No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

Titanfall Mk.VII had been a heavy machine built like a bunker. This was its opposite.

Zhao Xuan's unit shimmered with high-frequency plating and sleek design. 6th generation experimental unit. Whisper-quiet, light-frame, designed for maximum acceleration and precision.

Its codename blinked in silver text: Aetherblade-X7

Grumpy Bear couldn't stop talking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, behold the bleeding edge of light-mecha warfare! Aetherblade-X7! Plasma sabers. Layered quantum boosters. Phase-shift stabilizers. And it's piloted by Zhao Xuan, a once-in-a-millennium genius who was ranked number one at War God College's First Years before he even registered!"

"His dueling record is flawless," Sleepy Smile murmured. "Eighty-nine victories. Zero losses. Even in training, no one's ever landed a clean hit on him."

Back in the VIP box, the generals weren't laughing anymore.

General Hong Fei lowered his tea. "This… this could be trouble."

"That plasma blade can't be parried by a titanium weapon," General Maru muttered grimly. "It'll melt through the edge in half a second."

"And if it lands even one proper cut…" General Riki trailed off.

The air in the arena shifted.

Tension rose.

Even Sleepy Smile's usual boredom vanished.

Back in the staging area, Damien sat quietly in the preparation zone, sipping from a bottle of water like he hadn't just dismantled one of the most expensive mechas in the tournament.

A technician approached cautiously. "Um… sir. We can offer you an upgraded build for the best-of-three rounds. Advanced weapon mods, tactical overlays, mana shield enhancements…"

"No need," Damien replied without looking up. "Just give me the same loadout."

The technician blinked. "B-but sir… the others will—"

"Same blade. Same frame. No enhancements."

The technician nodded quickly and ran off before Damien could say anything else.

On the broadcast screen, Damien's mecha stepped forward. No flair. No glow. Just matte black plating and a titanium blade in hand.

Grumpy Bear laughed triumphantly.

"Oh, now this is gonna be good. That poor bastard's bringing a knife to a nuclear lightsaber fight. Call it now, folks. This one's over before it begins."

The countdown echoed through the arena like the beat of a war drum.

Three…

Two…

One…

BOOM.

Aetherblade-X7 shot forward like a bolt of silver lightning.

The acceleration was staggering. In less than a heartbeat, Zhao Xuan's mecha had crossed a third of the arena, plasma saber igniting with a flash of violet-blue energy that hissed and shimmered with deadly heat.

"Movement registered at 3.2 Mach!" the announcer blurted. "This is faster than any previous round!"

"He truly deserves his crown as the best first year to ever enter War God College." Sleepy Smile murmured, eyes narrowing. "It's like he's teleporting."

Grumpy Bear practically howled, voice ragged with glee. "And the maniac Hungry Monster brought a tin can and a butter knife! What's he gonna do, intimidate the plasma out of him?"

In the cockpit, Zhao Xuan grinned with supreme confidence.

"Let's see you dance, monster-boy."

But as usual, Damien didn't move.

Not until the blade was close enough to singe the air around his mecha's chest.

Then…

First move.

He leaned. Just barely.

The plasma saber swept through empty space where his neck had been, a lethal arc that should've taken off his head.

Zhao Xuan's grin faltered. "Tch. Lucky."

The crowd gasped.

Sleepy Smile sipped his tea. "Parry's not the answer. This is a dodging game for the Battle God."

Second move.

Damien's mecha flowed under the next slash, knees bending as if the entire machine were bowing, and twisted to the side, bringing the titanium blade upward in a single, sharp flick.

Aetherblade-X7's shoulder armor sparked.

"HE HIT HIM! HE HIT HIM!" Grumpy Bear screamed. "I THOUGHT NOBODY EVER HIT HIM!"

In the War God College section, several students shot to their feet in disbelief.

"Who the hell is that Battle God? He actually hit Big Brother Zhao Xuan?!"

"Holy shit. Zhao Xuan must be pissed!"

"Bastard!" Zhao Xuan roared in anger. But he recovered instantly.

His plasma blade blurred in a diagonal slice designed to corner and cleave.

Third move.

Damien spun into the strike. Yes, into it, and let the blade pass a hair's breadth from his torso. The mecha's outer plating steamed from the heat, but Damien was already inside the danger zone.

His elbow crashed into the Aetherblade's chin with brutal momentum.

Sleepy Smile leaned closer to the mic. "Close-range counters against a plasma edge… that's suicide unless you've got timing sharper than the blade."

Fourth move.

Zhao Xuan disengaged with a burst from his quantum boosters, flipping back thirty meters and landing in a crouch. His plasma saber re-ignited, longer now, overcharged. He slashed out, sending an arc of searing energy across the field like a crescent moon of death.

The crowd ducked as the mana barrier rippled.

Damien didn't duck.

He ran straight through the arc.

Zhao Xuan snarled. "What the hell? Who is this guy? The founder of the Plasma Sword? How the hell did he manage to perfectly time his movements?!"

"This is god-like timing!" Sleepy Smile shouted. "He moved between the first phase of ignition and the crest of the arc. That window's about… 0.23 seconds!!"

Fifth move.

Now they were close again.

Zhao Xuan thrust the plasma blade forward. A feint, followed by a horizontal sweep.

But Damien didn't fall for it.

He caught the hilt with his left hand, blade and all, letting the plasma sear through the outer shell of his forearm guard.

Zhao Xuan screamed into the comm. "Are you insane?! That's plasma!"

And with his right hand Damien drove his titanium blade into Aetherblade-X7's knee actuator.

Sixth move.

Zhao Xuan's balance faltered at Damien's vicious strike.

But even stumbling, Zhao Xuan wasn't finished.

"Die with me, bastard," Zhao Xuan snarled, and the plasma blade flared again. It carved a blazing vertical arc through the air, bright enough to leave afterimages, hot enough to ignite the very space around it.

Damien didn't duck. He didn't retreat.

He turned.

A subtle, precise movement. Just enough to let the plasma blade pass by his shoulder, close enough to feel the heat. In the same motion, he lifted his leg and delivered a low, measured kick.

There was nothing dramatic about it. No flourish. No speed.

Just control.

He placed his foot against the inner thigh of Aetherblade-X7, right at the joint, an overlooked armor seam exposed only for a moment.

A faint click echoed in the silence.

"Did he just... step on him?" a student whispered in disbelief.

"Is that a valid move?" another asked, popcorn paused halfway to their mouth.

The seventh move.

Damien lowered his foot and pivoted.

One last rotation. One last breath.

And then he drove his blade forward. It pierced beneath the rear chassis, sliding into the exposed vent at the base of Aetherblade-X7's spine.

The sound was clean. Final.

The mecha froze.

The plasma blade sputtered, then dimmed. A mechanical tremor rolled through its limbs as emergency systems failed to restart the core.

Steam escaped from its vents. Lights blinked and faded.

And then, stillness.

The arena fell quiet. A long, drawn breath from thousands of lungs.

Then the silence broke, all at once.

A wave of cheers and cries exploded across the stadium like thunder.

Grumpy Bear slammed his fists on the desk. "That's NOT how this is supposed to work! Plasma beats steel! Science beats instinct! This is unfaaairrr!!"

Sleepy Smile just stared at the screen and whispered, "If the pilot is a woman… I think I'm in love."

In the VIP box, General Hong Fei had tears in his eyes. "I want that boy to marry my granddaughter."

"You don't have a granddaughter!" General Maru snapped.

"Then I'll adopt one!"

General Riki was halfway into a handstand. "I AM A DRAGON AND THAT BOY RIDES ME INTO WAR!"

Below, Damien turned and walked away from the smoking wreck of Zhao Xuan's prized Aetherblade, his blade once again sheathed without flair.

The announcer finally found his voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen… Hungry Monster wins the first round in this best-of-three series!"

Zhao Xuan didn't move.

Inside his cockpit, he was still staring at the sky in stunned silence.

He had never lost.

He had never even been touched.

And now, in seven surgical moves, he'd been completely dismantled.

The second match was scheduled in five minutes.

And every soul in the stadium now understood one thing.

A new star has been born.

A brand new, fucking superstar.