Chapter 555: The Prototype Problem
Destroy.
Destroy...
DESTROY...
It practically echoed across the arena.
At one point, one could definitely hear a pin drop. Not metaphorically. Literally.
Marshal Julian was almost certain he could hear his own blood circulating. Every beat felt like a drumline out of sync, and when that boy—that boy—called out to him so casually, his heart skipped like a scratched record.
He was sure he wasn’t the only one.
Even the master with the worst hearing among them probably heard it crystal clear.
Then—
GASP.
The air snapped. Time unpaused. And chaos exploded.
Tables screeched. Stools tilted. Wrinkled limbs launched into motion.
Even Master Allan was halfway through crawling over the panel table with murder in his eyes and spit flying from his mouth.
"WHAT KIND OF NONSENSE WAS THAT?!"
"UGH! MY HEART!"
"QUINN, YOU PRICK! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"
"WAIT, WHY ME?!"
Several of the older masters were engaged in an ungraceful shoving match, scrambling to determine who would be the first to throw themselves across the tables and reach Luca. They looked ready to expend their final slivers of life energy just to throttle the child and rescue the mecha from his obviously unworthy hands.
The noble cause? Saving the mecha.
If they died in the process, so be it.
Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately for Luca—the attempted stampede was halted.
Because Luca was no longer within reach.
He had been gently swept into the protective arms of a tall, calm figure who had not been derailed by the chaos, nor by an unfortunate seating choice earlier.
Face met chest.
Luca blinked.
"...Xavier?"
"Mn. I’m here," came the low reply, spoken as Xavier positioned a steady hand behind Luca’s head. "Do you have something you want to tell them?"
Honestly, he almost froze the moment Luca said that. But it was his little honest chipmunk. And considering that, Luca was likely planning something else entirely.
Surely there was more to it.
At least, he hoped there was more to it.
Because that sounded a lot like his spouse had just asked the highest-ranking military officer to destroy what was already promised imperial property. Which explained why Xavier had crossed the auditorium like a man on a mission.
Luca, still confused, tilted his head. "Why? What’s wrong? Weren’t you sitting over there?"
"Just a possible misunderstanding. Let’s try to clear it up," Xavier said gently, standing firm like a wall between Luca and the dozens of people losing their collective minds.
Marshal Julian, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to vanish from the planet. If not that, then maybe request an assignment in deep space.
He wanted to close his eyes.
He wanted to stop existing.
At the very least, he needed earplugs.
Because what was he supposed to do if his sister—the Empress of Solaris—heard about this?
He couldn’t even fake an illness. That excuse had already been used twice this quarter.
And frankly, even a lifelong bachelor like him could tell what this was.
Now, would it be too late to look the other way?!
The moment Xavier had ignored custom and crossed the floor without being called—what could anyone even say?
Julian counted to three in his head, slapped a neutral expression on his face, and said in the calmest voice he could manage:
"Cadet Kyros, would you like to explain further?"
Xavier slowly relaxed his hold, and Luca, now blinking wide-eyed like a student just realizing there was a pop quiz, turned to look at the audience.
Dozens of eyes stared back.
So did his parents.
And his friends.
Oh no.
He had definitely said something bad.
Luca realized this with the weight of dawning horror and made a mental note never to shout things like that again in public.
He bowed politely and said, "Marshal, I would like to deeply apologize. I realize that in my excitement, I have failed to string the correct words..."
The entire auditorium sighed like a hurricane being deflated.
And then Luca continued.
"Actually, this mecha was built to properly demonstrate the usefulness of the mecha I was really planning on making for the exam."
"...?"
"...What?"
"...WHAT?!"
The uproar returned like a tidal wave, louder than ever.
Marshal Julian pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered with infinite restraint, "Cadet, explain what you mean by this."
Luca was aware he had made a grave mistake, and really, even D-29 considered packing clothes after a very long time...
"Sir, I thought of doing it like this to maintain the legitimacy of the exam."
"I actually need damaged mechas to test out the capabilities of the mecha I was planning on building. But then I realized it wouldn’t be fair to use mechas I didn’t build in front of the committee... so I decided to create the demo unit first so that there would still be time to calibrate before use tomorrow..." He trailed.
Silence.
Complete, cosmic-level silence.
Luca’s words drifted through the air like some kind of alien transmission.
Most people blinked.
Master Allan twitched.
Because taken apart, those words sounded simple.
But when placed in order and spoken out loud, they became a weapon of mass confusion.
That mecha—that towering, legendary, horrifyingly expensive-looking mecha—was not the actual exam piece.
It wasn’t.
That meant, by some cruel twist of the universe, Luca had planned to build a second mecha all along.
Tomorrow.
As in, in less than twenty-four hours.
And this first mecha, the one built over nearly twelve traumatic hours of spiritual and emotional whiplash, was just the warm-up act?
Master Allan felt like fainting. Or screaming. Possibly both.
So the mecha he had nearly clutched his chest over... the one that made several masters reach for their nebulizers... was intended to be destroyed?
Why?
Why on Solaris would Luca hand it over to the Marshal?
The whole thing was baffling.
But to Luca, the answer came just as casually as everything else.
Luca genuinely thought they would have to seriously try their hand at destroying it in order to damage it. That way, they could test how the real exam mecha would perform in recovery and repair.
It sounded insane.
It sounded like the ravings of a boy too deep in his own genius.
But it also... sort of made sense?
Especially once Luca had discovered, firsthand, why gravemaw chitin was such a prized material.
He had tried to cut it with his regular power tools.
Nothing.
He had tried saws. Plasma edges. Manual reinforcement.
Still nothing.
So he turned to his spiritual ability.
That worked. Barely.
So no, he wasn’t joking when he said that building this mecha had taught him something new. If it couldn’t be cut normally, it probably wouldn’t break normally either.
Maybe he should’ve picked something else.
Maybe.
But he didn’t really have more suitable options.
Haaay...
However, Master Allan wasn’t alone in thinking this, because even Master Colton, who had previously tried to protect Luca with the valiant strength of a tired uncle, now stepped forward with a pinched look on his face.
"Then Cadet Kyros," he asked carefully, "pray tell, why would you offer it if you intended to destroy it in the first place?"
Luca, eyes bright with the shine of good intentions, answered, "Master, that’s because I intend to fully repair it."
Somewhere, a faint choking noise echoed from the back of the hall.
Because of course.
Of course, that was the reason.
Because Luca thought the military might benefit from a different kind of mecha.
Also, who, other than the people of his house, would volunteer their mechas for destruction?
No one.
Naturally.
So wouldn’t he have had to make one?
Especially when all the biomechas around him were self-healing?
"..."
It seemed like he really had a lot more to learn.
Sigh.