Arc 3: Interstellar Tyrant.
Imperial Central Military Academy, Mecha Training Class.
On the broad, circular platform, most third-year students had already finished their matches, recorded their results, and gathered in small groups to watch the last two mechas still locked in battle.
“What did Edwin do to provoke that madman?”
“I heard he accidentally touched the madman’s violin during music class.”
“What?”
A companion shrugged. “Yep. Our great, noble son of a duke, the Empire’s last of the Sun’s bloodline, can’t stand that an A-grade military student, a commoner, touched his belongings.”
A soldier’s nature is to be a weapon, a blade born to protect the Empire. And yet here, the “masters” were scorning those who weren’t born noble. It was unthinkable that this outdated idea of noble blood superiority could still exist in the interstellar year 9865.
“Shit.” A woman with fiery red hair folded her arms, cursing, “The thought of him becoming our future king, with us forced to serve him, feels like swallowing dog shit.”
…
In an instant, the battle’s dynamic changed.
The silver mecha stumbled and tilted heavily to the right, its mechanical hand flailing awkwardly like a child just learning to control a mecha.
The black mecha seized the opportunity, raised its lightsaber, and charged in for a powerful strike. Just as the blade was about to pierce its opponent’s cockpit, the silver mecha sprang up, dodging gracefully like a swan, and condescendingly flicked the other mecha on the forehead.
The bulky mechanical fingers moved under the young man’s control with a pianist’s grace.
The third-year students watching erupted into astonished chatter, which quickly turned to anger. In military training, winning or losing was expected, and no one minded losing if outmatched. But the silver mecha, using overwhelming power, was deliberately mocking the weaker opponent, trampling on his dignity, which was disgusting to witness.
Time after time, the black mecha was knocked down, struggled up, and was beaten down again. Its scars accumulated, and it moved slower and slower until all efforts seemed pitiful in the face of absolute strength.
At last, the silver mecha seemed to lose interest and kicked it off the platform.
“Beep! Third-year Class A, Mecha Training Course, Group Nineteen, winner—Xia Yan Gardner,” announced the intelligent system.
The silver mecha’s hatch opened, and a tall young man emerged.
Black military boots hugged his ankles, white uniform pants tucked neatly inside, a school uniform sharply outlining his slender waist. On his right chest, a golden Sun and Phoenix badge gleamed coldly—a symbol of his top-of-class rank.
That strikingly handsome face radiated arrogance, with imperial golden eyes unique to the royal bloodline shining under the lights.
No matter the previous whispers, everyone in Class A fell silent when facing Xia Yan directly. Well—except for the two lackeys from the House of Xia Yan.
“Our young master is the strongest!”
“A mere commoner dares to touch the young master’s belongings.” A boy with delicate features sneered, looking disdainfully at the man who struggled out of the battered black mecha.
The man’s white military uniform was stained with dirt, his hair in disarray, and his face bore two distinct scratches. He glared at Xia Yan, his red eyes blazing with humiliation.
Had he known it was Xia Yan’s violin, he wouldn’t have dared to touch it!
The boy scoffed, “Who allowed you to look at the young master like that? Planning a rebellion?”
“…”
Even within the same academy, class distinctions remained. As a commoner, Edwin was clearly no match for a noble like Xia Yan.
And Xia Yan wasn’t merely a noble.
After 128 years of marriage, the current Emperor and Empress had no heir. A few generations back, the Duke’s family had married a princess, and Xia Yan had inherited the royal “Gardner” family’s unique golden eyes.
Golden eyes were considered a symbol of kingship.
After Xia Yan’s birth, countless nobles had rallied around him, hoping he’d be the next king. And just a month ago, at the Duke’s 100th birthday celebration, the Emperor himself bestowed upon Xia Yan the Gardner surname.
Barring any surprises, he was the Empire’s next ruler.
Who could oppose him? To do so was sheer arrogance.
…
Everyone was watching him.
Inside, Xia Yan was panicking, screaming for help. He’d been thrown into this world, abruptly finding himself piloting a mecha mid-battle, utterly confused.
He had no idea how to operate this thing!
System 999 transmitted the original owner’s memories to him in the nick of time. Overwhelmed by the sudden flood of information, he could only act on instinct.
Thankfully, the original owner’s muscle memory remained, allowing him to pull through.
Xia Yan understood that this was an interstellar romance novel from the system’s brief narrative.
The protagonist shou was a morally gray space pirate with exceptional mecha piloting talent, but he’d been deceived by a scumbag who, under the guise of love, stole his mecha designs.
The protagonist gong was the long-lost son of the current Emperor and Empress. Despite his humble background on a backward planet, he’d studied hard, excelled, and entered the Imperial Central Military Academy, where he was treated as a servant by his noble dorm mates because of his lowly origins.
In the end, the two protagonists—united by shared grievances—join forces to destroy the scumbag who wronged them.
And yes, that scumbag was Xia Yan.
Xia Yan: “…”
As the next Duke and heir apparent, Xia Yan supposedly had everything. So why would he use deceit to obtain the protagonist shou’s mecha designs?
Because the original Xia Yan’s S-grade mental strength was a lie.
In the interstellar era, mental strength was classified into six levels: S, A, B, C, D, and E, with S as the strongest and E as the weakest. The stronger the mental strength, the more powerful the mecha they could pilot, and the stronger their skills.
Most people had fixed mental grades for life. The original Xia Yan, at age 12, was only rated at A.
Unwilling to be less than perfect, he secretly bought dangerous black-market drugs to forcibly upgrade his mental strength to S.
An A-grade mental strength could never ascend to the throne.
Yet the artificially boosted S-grade was still inferior to a naturally gifted S-grade, so the original Xia Yan had tricked the protagonist shou into giving him superior mecha designs to win in battle.
Xia Yan: […] Typical scumbag behavior, fittingly despicable.
System 999 boasted: [This time, you and the protagonist shou only have an online relationship. There’s no way he’ll dominate you.]
Inspired, Xia Yan was ready to face the challenge. No matter the cost, he was determined to complete all his main tasks and earn the extra points.
First, he opened the task panel.
He’d already completed Task One.
[Task One: Humiliate and defeat Edwin six times (Completed).
Task Two: Accept a challenge from Huo Ruihe (Incomplete).
Task Three: Deceive the space pirate Ian Hyde to obtain mecha design blueprints (Incomplete).]
Thankfully, he’d immediately activated the tasks upon arrival, so he didn’t miss Task One. As for Task Two… Xia Yan quickly scanned his memory and zeroed in on a certain person in the crowd.
Huo Ruihe is the novel’s second gong. He is around six feet two inches tall, with black hair and eyes, handsome features, and a somewhat gentle look but with an underlying sharpness, giving him a refined aura.
The man looked up and locked eyes with Xia Yan, his gaze filled with resentment over Xia Yan’s bullying.
Xia Yan nodded inwardly, pleased. Yes, this is the kind of reaction a scumbag should get. Perfect—keep glaring, hating, and scorning me.
Though all this internal thought seemed slow, it actually happened in a flash. Barely a minute had passed in real time, and Xia Yan’s lackey Bernie was still berating the defeated man in the black mecha.
“Bernie, watch your language.”
Huo Ruihe’s words were directed at Bernie, but his gaze fixed on Xia Yan as he spoke, carefully enunciating, “We are military students, reserve soldiers for the Empire. Our loyalty lies with our king. What does showing respect to Xia Yan have to do with ‘rebellion’?”
Until Xia Yan was formally announced as the crown prince, he wasn’t the person they were sworn to serve.
The room went silent as everyone held their breath, nerves tight. Was Xia Yan going to lose it? Would he take revenge? Who could match his power with the Duke and the Emperor behind him?
Under their collective gaze, Xia Yan didn’t get angry; he laughed instead.
“I will become king.”
“…”
“Huo Ruihe, you will kneel before me.”
The young man lifted his head arrogantly, his gaze filled with disdain. The aura of a born ruler radiated from him, drawing in a few who admired power above all else.
But most people still felt uncomfortable.
As reserve soldiers, they hoped to serve a king who was kind and just and worked for the people’s benefit, not someone like Xia Yan, who only cared about nobility and looked down on commoners.
Huo Ruihe was silent for a moment. “I believe His Majesty would never choose an unreasonable noble as an heir.”
“Unreasonable?”
The young man repeated the words, looking up in confusion.
Everyone: “???” Didn’t you just beat Edwin so badly he’s covered in bruises? And now you’ve forgotten?
Huo Ruihe stood in front of Edwin, shielding him protectively, and said firmly, “Edwin only accidentally touched your violin, yet you used the battle to get personal revenge and humiliate him.”
“Accidentally?” Xia Yan laughed. “After attending biweekly music classes for three years, a third-year student still can’t distinguish between the school’s instruments and a privately-owned violin?”
The Imperial Central Military Academy had a five-year system. Three years were more than enough for everyone to become familiar with the equipment.
Huo Ruihe was taken aback.
Edwin stepped forward, his gaze somewhat evasive, but he finally maintained his military loyalty and offered an apology. “I’m sorry, the violin looked beautiful, and I couldn’t resist trying it.”
“Your violin playing sounded like sawing wood.” Xia Yan frowned in disgust. “It was an insult to my violin. Now every time I see it, I remember your horrid playing.”
Xia Yan wasn’t lying; this was indeed how the original owner felt.
Huo Ruihe interrupted him. “But that doesn’t give you a reason to exact personal revenge.”
Xia Yan raised an eyebrow. “Watch your language, Classmate Huo. I simply defeated him in our group match.”
