Ten minutes earlier…
Shortly after the live broadcast cut off, the audience descended into murmurs and complaints. Yet most remained seated—a testament to the pre-screening of attendees. They were rule-abiding, unlikely to act recklessly. This made crowd control straightforward, requiring only a handful of security personnel to maintain order.
"What's going on?" an audience member grumbled. "Losing the broadcast is one thing, but no starnet either?"
"There's a technical issue with nearby signal towers," an arena official replied vaguely. "Please stay calm. Signals are being urgently repaired and will resume shortly."
"How long is 'shortly'?" another demanded. "The match is still going! By the time you fix this, it might be over. The barren star broadcast was stable—this is an indoor arena! How irresponsible can you be?"
No matter the complaints, the staff repeated their scripted response, as mechanical as drones.
"…Honestly, ending the match when the signal returns wouldn't be bad," a teenage boy in the stands sighed quietly. Flanked by peers, he muttered, "We're doomed to lose anyway."
"You're Federal too—how can you say that? The match isn't over!" a nearby young man frowned, ready to lecture, but his companion tugged his sleeve, whispering, "Shut it. Look at their badges—Federal Central Military Academy students."
The young man skeptically eyed the boy, spotting the badge, and awkwardly looked away.
When it came to understanding the situation, civilians couldn't compete with Central Military Academy students.
As for ties to the competitors… Rumor had it most Federal team members hailed from the academy. They might even know each other personally.
If academy students were pessimistic about their peers, what could an outsider say?
The young man fell silent, though his gaze lingered on the teenagers' backs.
The boys noticed but stayed quiet, pretending not to care.
The "doomsayer" was named Mo Li.
At school, he was a strong contender, selected for the Federal team but falling just short of the main roster. Initially, he'd been bitter—but after two broadcasted exercises, he realized how laughable his arrogance was.
Deep down, he was almost relieved he wasn't facing the Imperials in the arena today.
He genuinely hoped the signal blackout would last until the match ended, for Zhou Ye's sake. Everyone knew the Federals were near defeat; what followed would be their team's crushing defeat—not a moment worth recording. Letting Zhou Ye and the others lose quietly, out of sight, was a mercy, easing the public pressure they'd face.
"But this situation feels off," Mo Li's companion said. "A newly built signal tower failing so easily?"
Before he finished, a deafening boom erupted overhead.
Thick black smoke billowed, and a massive hole tore through the dome!
Screams—high and low—erupted from the stands.
Seconds later, countless machines, like silver meteors, plummeted through the breach, swarming toward the stands like locusts!
"Attackers!"
"…Robots?!"
A shrill, piercing alarm blared across the stands.
Mo Li, stunned briefly, reacted fast, reaching for his light-brain to contact the arena's security grid—Federal military had planted agents in the stands for emergencies—but he froze. Even military comms were jammed; the system was down!
Mo Li gritted his teeth.
He had no weapons.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle sounded nearby—a machine landed in a straight drop before them. It turned its head, raised a hand, and a blue laser began to charge in its palm.
Mo Li instinctively vaulted over a railing, snatching an electro-baton from a stunned staff member's waist. Cranking it to max, he hurled it at the machine's chest.
Bang! The baton struck, sparks flying as a white electric web enveloped the machine.
Its arm drooped, trembling in the flickering net.
"Run!"
Mo Li grabbed the arm of a girl closest to the machine, yanking her toward open ground.
As she turned, Mo Li caught her sweet, delicate features and wide, startled eyes.
He froze—just for a split second. No time to think, he bit down, pulled her into his arms, and rolled toward the stairs.
Zzt—zzzt!
The machine, regaining motion, fired a blinding laser, scorching a long burn across the ground.
Mo Li shielded the girl as they tumbled down the steps, his back and side bruising against the edges. Painful, but bearable.
After two levels, he spun to his feet, pushing her into a shadowed corner. "Quick, hide!"
The girl, seeming to snap out of shock, flushed faintly—perhaps from fear—but her eyes were strikingly clear, like a fawn's. "Thank you—what's your name?"
Mo Li blinked, knowing this wasn't the time to chat, but whispered, "…Mo Li."
"I'm Rosaline," she said, a dimple blooming on her right cheek as she smiled.
"I—I've got to go," Mo Li said. "I need to help secure the arena."
"You don't have a weapon," Rosaline frowned, her delicate brows knitting. "How'll you protect anyone?"
Mo Li thought, I know where the security room is—can grab guns there. Before he could speak, Rosaline leaned over the stands, rolled up her sleeve, gripped a metal railing, and twisted—
Crunch.
She handed him the torn metal pipe, patting his shoulder. "Use this for now."
Mo Li's eye twitched. He lifted the pipe: the silver metal's jagged edge was sharp, but the break was clean. It took skill—and immense strength.
Mo Li fumbled for words. "You—"
"Oh, I'm a student at the Imperial Tianquan Military Academy, part of the exercise team," Rosaline said, scratching her cheek shyly. "Didn't make the main roster, though… Are you a military student? I heard the Federation has nine academies…"
Before she finished, mechanical joints whirred behind them.
Another machine!
It locked onto them, crouched, and sprang like a coil.
Mo Li's pupils shrank.
A faint, translucent ripple appeared behind Rosaline—massive, nearly her height. From it, a giant gorilla emerged!
The ground quaked as the gorilla leaped, smashing a fist into the machine's chest.
Bang!
Sparks and parts rained down.
Mo Li: "…"
He stared numbly at the gorilla looming behind Rosaline.
"You go—I can protect myself," Rosaline said, waving bashfully. Her gorilla mimicked the gesture. "Thanks!"
Mo Li: "…"
The metal pipe in his hand felt ice-cold, biting.
Soon, more machines flooded the arena.
But the audience wasn't helpless—many Imperials unleashed their spirits, battling fiercely; Federals showed grit, with scrappy youths outwitting machines at every stand. Lacking weapons, most were at a disadvantage.
Mo Li and Rosaline teamed up, heading for the security room.
They downed a few machines en route, sprinting toward their goal. Using her spirit drained Rosaline's mental energy fast—they were on a clock.
Then, some machines surged skyward, their steel forms assembling a chilling mechanical eye—
Rosaline and Mo Li froze.
Rosaline: "What's that?"
Mo Li: "It's… the Silver Eye…"
The totem of the Silver Age!
The eye whispered, its voice swelling like a tide.
Simultaneously, the arena's screens flickered, signal restored—not showing competitors, but the mechanical eye.
[Abandoners of wisdom.]
[No need for fear or doubt.]
[The exiled miracle returns.]
[The Silver Age—Hic!]
The eye's chant was silenced by electromagnetic shells.
Rosaline cheered at the screen, "Nice one, Your Highness!"
Mo Li didn't know why Rosaline was so thrilled, but seeing Bai Sha taunt the Silver Eye, he silently worried for her.
The eye's core spun like a pupil, gears clanking.
Click, clack.
Its "gaze" fixed on Bai Sha.
The machines around it went berserk, thousands of white meteors streaking toward her mech!
Her silver mech gripped its spear, light flaring behind it like six massive wings, propelling it skyward.
The duel began!
Machines poured like a galaxy unleashed.
Bai Sha's mech dove in.
Soft explosions rang—her spear piercing machine heads.
As she plunged into the swarm, the machines shifted formations—hourglass, then sphere, like fish in a shimmering sea, glinting with their rapid spins.
All eyes locked on the moment—
Boom, boom, boom!
Explosions rocked the sky. Machines caught fire, spreading fast, the sphere becoming a blazing fireball.
On the holo-screen, a spear stirred the swarm, thunderous light sparking red flames.
Machine wreckage fell—arms, legs, torsos, heads—like moths burned to ash.
A silver gleam broke free, Bai Sha's mech bursting from the encirclement, streaking another way.
…Fleeing?
The crowd followed her path, gasping: a vast black marsh had spread across the arena!
Bai Sha's mech soared above it, then—her engines stalled, plunging downward, machines in pursuit—
Then, her mech flipped gracefully, light-wings unfurling elegantly, drifting back like a leaf.
Two mechs rose from the ground, guns blazing at the machines.
Machines crashed, some into the marsh.
The marsh swallowed many. Some machines struggled, trying to fly, but tentacles from the marsh yanked them down.
Bai Sha raised her spear, firing at the writhing machines.
The result: countless machines detonated in the marsh's depths.
The marsh boiled, black matter blasted apart!
Bai Sha's gaze locked on the marsh, spotting a pale gray crystal vein in a blasted patch—
There!
She took a deep breath.
Time seemed to stretch, everything slowing.
A bird's wings fluttered before her.
"A thousand days of care for one moment's use," Bai Sha said softly to Little White Chirp. "Let's do this—full energy afterward."
"Chirp!"
Little White Chirp, as if understanding, ignited. Its snow-white feathers burned in warm blue flames, its tiny form fading, the fire's shadow stretching—
Boom!
A silent, forceful wingbeat split the fire, vanishing quietly.
A blue-feathered, silver-winged giant bird rose, its wings blotting the sky like clouds.
…
Every Imperial's gaze fixed on the screens.
"Blackbird," someone murmured, voice dreamy, then wild joy surged. "—It's the Blackbird!"
"The Blackbird!"
"Blackbird!"
"Not His Majesty—another Blackbird in the Empire!"
The Blackbird's appearance electrified the Imperials.
Some Federals, puzzled by the frenzy, saw it as more than joy—shock and reverence dominated.
"Your Highness… Your Highness!"
A single shout, easily drowned, sparked like wildfire, spreading through the stands.
Imperials chanted in rhythm:
"Your Highness!"
"Your Highness—"
The crowd's roar shook the arena.
…
Bai Sha's focus was on her spirit.
The silver-blue Blackbird dove at the marsh, its wing-wind slicing the black sea, exposing a gray, pulsing crystal.
Bai Sha thrust her spear, its force shattering clouds.
The crystal flashed, purple barriers rising—filthy bubbles, blue-green shadows writhing, tainting her mental energy.
Her Blackbird screeched, its wing-glow dimming under the corruption, flickering like a candle.
Bai Sha gritted her teeth.
She had an ace unplayed—her devouring ability—but exposing it publicly, in a camera-filled arena, was risky…
Then, faintly, she heard chants.
The shouts grew fervent.
They didn't call her name.
But she knew she was their call.
Closing her eyes, her vision shifted to the Blackbird. It soared, circling, surveying.
The Imperials were ecstatic, their spirits released, all eyes on the Blackbird.
Gradually, Bai Sha felt her—or the Blackbird's—heartbeat quicken, her body lightening. Her thoughts slipped free, like a dewdrop sliding off a leaf, merging into the sea.
Countless mental energies wove a net.
Bai Sha was within it.
She heard heartbeats, felt emotions, thoughts—like dewdrops rolling on the net, freely mingling, drawn by fate, fusing…
The Blackbird danced, singing.
The mech on-screen moved like a god.
Her spear swept, all filth turning to ash!
…
Meanwhile, in the Ares Empire, Youdu Star.
The Emperor's study was deathly silent.
Wei Li stared at the screen for two seconds before glancing at the Emperor.
Cecil Roning sat on his throne, expressionless, unmoving for three minutes—a signal in itself, Wei Li knew.
"Your Majesty?" Wei Li ventured.
Cecil Roning ignored him.
Wei Li stepped closer, peering at the Emperor's eyes: deep blue, brighter than any gem.
"…Your Majesty," Wei Li repeated.
Cecil turned, his calm gaze piercing.
Wei Li: "Her Highness's spirit is indeed the Blackbird, no mistake."
Cecil Roning: "…"
"And her Blackbird clearly bears the royal lineage's unique ability," Wei Li said, adjusting his glasses with a smile. "A magnificent 'resonance.'"
The Emperor's lips curved, a soft hum conveying clear pleasure.
The Blackbird was the Empire's symbol. Every Emperor's spirit was a Blackbird—not just a totem, but tied to the royal ability: resonance.
The first Roning won the people's loyalty through resonance.
"Notify Han Xi. Convene the cabinet," Cecil Roning said decisively. "I'm activating the 'Succession Act.'"
Wei Li: "."
Cecil Roning: "And start preparing the heir's coronation ceremony. We don't want a rush job."
Wei Li hesitated. "Aren't you moving too fast—"
"I promised her freedom because her spirit wasn't a Blackbird," Cecil interrupted. "A weak-spirited Emperor, even crowned, faces a lifetime of peril. The Roning legacy couldn't protect her—it might've dragged her down, harmed her. So I held back. But now, those concerns are gone."
"What… could stop her from claiming the 'promised throne'?"