[“System loading normally”]
[“Armament preparation complete”]
[“All checks normal. Ready to begin at any time”]
On the competition field, Ye Xu — considered the “weakest” of the three — piloted Nightfall and stepped onto the trial grounds first.
Opposite him, more than fifty classmates in training machines that were over a head shorter than Nightfall lined up nervously, staring shakily at the oppressively imposing night-purple frame.
“Good!”
Seeing this, Teacher Hera — seated on the high platform with a magic hat borrowed from some student perched on her head as a sunshade — turned to exchange glances with the other three teachers. She stood and moved to the edge of the platform overlooking the field.
“Let me repeat the rules one more time.”
“Group confrontation match.”
“Four classes, total of one hundred sixty-seven people.”
“Randomly divided into three groups of over fifty each.”
“Each group will face one of the three students piloting personal machines: ‘Ye Laixi · Nal,’ ‘Isxila · Selan,’ and ‘Lol · Nat.'”
“Victory conditions: force the three students out of bounds or deplete their mana.”
“Final ranking will be based on time taken!”
Since the overall outcome was already decided, there was no point in a direct competition. Today, they’d focus on properly training the students.
Thus, after some discussion, the three teachers led by Hess came up with this format.
Shuffle all four classes’ students into three roughly equal-sized groups, distributing the nine other personal-machine owners evenly — three per group.
Then pit them in group battles against the three heavyweights from Hera’s class.
Victory for the groups was defined solely as pushing the target out of the training field or draining their mana.
— After all, no one expected those ancient training machines to so much as scratch the armor of the latest models.
As for the possibility of Ye Xu’s trio wiping out their fifty-person groups?
They had considered it, but realistically, it was unlikely.
It was like an adult fighting kindergarteners — sure, one punch per kid.
But no adult could take on fifty at once. They’d be exhausted from sheer numbers.
Especially since the match-specific system altered combat logic.
In simple terms, once pilots activated the duel system, the Magitech Knights linked up and shared data.
Spells and weapons wouldn’t cause real damage.
For example, casting a fireball would consume the pilot’s mana but produce only a visual effect — full appearance, zero actual harm.
Armaments worked the same way: the system generated ornamental magic mimicking their look without firing real rounds. Ammo displays would reset once the system shut down.
The targeted knight, using shared data from the attacker, would simulate impact effects and damage taken.
If “hit” hard enough to fly back, the machine would generate thrust to send itself airborne.
If a limb was “severed” or “disabled,” the system automatically cut power to that part.
Upon accumulating enough “damage,” the unit would shut down.
This seemed fair on the surface, but it was actually disadvantageous to Ye Xu’s side.
They could normally one-shot anyone with a well-placed hit, but under the system, they had to deal cumulative damage to force a shutdown.
In other words, even with massive power gaps, the teachers didn’t believe the trio could 1v50.
After all, these were Magitech Knights — iron bones and thick health bars— not fragile humans that died in one hit.
[“Teacher, ready!”]
[“I’m good too.”]
[“We’re all set.”]
As every student in the groups raised a hand to signal readiness, Teacher Hera nodded.
“Alright, everyone get ready.”
“On my mark…”
With those words, she raised her small wand. A large fireball spell began condensing above her head.
Then, at her command:
“Match start!”
Boom — the fireball shot skyward, and the duel officially began!
…
It was still an incredibly fresh experience.
Ye Xu truly hadn’t encountered anything like this before.
The system apparently required a certain number of Magitech Knights on the field, linked together, to function.
And obviously, in his early days, he hadn’t had that luxury.
Every bit of his combat experience had been forged in real, life-or-death battlefield carnage.
If he’d had access to something like this back then, he wouldn’t have suffered so much.
— Of course, it wasn’t too late now.
Seeing every opponent’s status displayed in colors from red to blue, low to high — just needing to fill their “health” to red to eliminate them — felt exactly like playing an online game.
He could go all out without worry, no fear of actually hurting anyone.
“Match start!!!”
Hummm!!!
At the teacher’s command, Nightfall’s magitech core roared to life.
Glancing at the mana reserves capped below fourth-circle by the teachers’ settings, Ye Xu began planning tactics.
First, anything above third-circle was off-limits. And per the persona he’d built, the only third-circle spell he could “use” was defensive.
Since he couldn’t widen the basic power gap, full annihilation wasn’t realistic anyway.
He’d settle for eliminating as many as possible and earning a solid score.
In that moment of thought, his gaze landed on three distinctly different personal machines among the fifty classmates rushing from the front to encircle him.
(Neutralize high-threat targets first!)
Ye Xu’s honed battle instincts kicked in.
The next instant, night-purple mana pulsed through the conduits beneath Nightfall’s armor.
Nightfall blurred into a night-purple phantom, breaking straight through the forming encirclement.
[“So fast!!!”]
[“That’s a Radiant Sun Type-14?!”]
[“That’s broken!”]
Clearly, the students hadn’t expected a machine over a meter taller than their training units to possess such terrifying mobility.
But it wasn’t solely due to raw performance.
More than that, their inexperience with piloting and lack of combat sense meant they never anticipated Nightfall’s moves.
Otherwise…
They wouldn’t have let Nightfall reach its target so easily.
[“Arghhh!”]
[“What are you spacing out for? Help!!!”]
Strained shouts instantly flooded the comms channel.
The classmates looked over in shock and saw one of their trump cards — one of the three personal machines meant to counter Nightfall’s overwhelming advantage — inexplicably lagging behind.
Nightfall, meanwhile, wielded a massive sword coated in a mana-cutting field and slashed viciously at the machine’s waist.
As a noble with a personal unit, the pilot wasn’t like the ordinary students. With basic combat experience, he reacted to Nightfall’s approach and raised his shield to block.
Even so, the sheer force drove him steadily backward through relentless strikes, farther from the group — on the verge of being knocked out of bounds.
— Being forced out of the field meant elimination, and that rule applied to both sides!
Since the ambush hadn’t secured an instant kill, Ye Xu would exploit the system mechanics to remove the threat.
[“Infernal Prison!”]
Watching the fire-red machine struggle bitterly under Nightfall’s assault, shield raised high, the classmates finally snapped out of it and rushed to support.
The pilot of the machine dubbed “Infernal Prison” was utterly speechless.
They’d agreed beforehand: as one of the three personal units capable of dealing significant damage to Nightfall, the group would center their assault around them.
Yet these combat-inexperienced idiots had charged forward screaming the moment the match started, leaving him — in his heavy-armor build — stranded in the rear.
(Infernal Prison, huh?)
Observing the fire-red frame through his monitors — its paint scheme and markings — Ye Xu formed a hypothesis.
The next moment, the pilot’s activated armament confirmed it.
[“Flame Demon’s Roar!!!”]
On the brink of elimination, the Infernal Prison pilot threw caution to the wind and unleashed his trump card magitech armament.
As vast mana surged into the knight, its shoulders unfolded.
Two colossal dragons formed entirely of scorching flames erupted roaring from within, lunging to tear Nightfall apart.
At the sight, Ye Xu couldn’t help chuckling. He activated Nightfall’s flight module, gliding briefly through the air to evade the spectacular assault.
(Heh, so you’re one of that guy’s fanboys, huh?)
A smile spread across Ye Xu’s face.
The Night Princess was now idolized across the entire Empire — even the human world. As her guardian knights, the Eternal Night Knight Order — especially the Nine Riders of Eternal Night — were naturally idols to knights and aspiring knights everywhere.
Given the striking visual similarity, this kid must have personally witnessed Rawi piloting “Flame Demon” in battle somewhere, then customized his own machine in imitation.
Even the habit of shouting attack names and his personality suggested deliberate mimicry.
In the two years Ye Xu had spent focused on his escape plan, it seemed his subordinates had been doing well in the Empire — well enough for admirers to appear even in border regions this far from the capital.
— That once-brooding, down-on-his-luck knight now had fans of his own. Ye Xu could rest easy.
With the classmates closing in, Ye Xu stopped prioritizing high-threat elimination. He shifted to using superior mobility to weave through the battlefield, picking off the unlucky stragglers whose inexperience left them isolated.