CHAPTER 532: SELECTION

Who knows? But as if the heavens liked playing favorites, suddenly scrutiny wasn’t just a problem for one young husband.

"You’re saying there are ten spots? As in one-zero?"

"Yes! Are you deaf?! Ten! Literal! Spots!"

"Wow!"

"I know! Whoever gets picked will probably go down in history!"

Excited voices rose and fell around him, echoing through the massive hall.

Yet, Luca stood there with a confused expression because he hadn’t expected the turnout for today’s selection.

If anything, it really seemed like he was the only one who thought this whole thing had been blown way out of proportion.

Steward Han reserved the largest hall they had in the dungeon-linked space, and even the staff assigned to the bakery had been kind enough to prepare snacks and refreshments, as if they expected the entire ordeal to take ages.

Because it would, and everyone knew, maybe save for their Young Lord, who didn’t think it would be such a big deal.

However, he’d been made aware that the soldiers had begun clamoring to duel each other, wanting to figure out a way to rightfully deserve the position.

And they were all agreeing because everyone wanted to be undisputed. Wanting to really deserve what they kept calling "their young lord’s grace."

"..."

Now, how they could call it that was something that was beyond Luca’s comprehension. However, he understood the desire for fairness and respect.

No one wanted to earn a spot they couldn’t be proud of.

So, Luca had a dilemma.

How exactly was he supposed to test the pilots?

He couldn’t just make them fight like they did during the last tournament. That wouldn’t help much here.

And just considering their ranks alone wouldn’t be enough. Because it was one thing to be born with a higher rating, but another to be able to use it efficiently.

So the conflicted mechanic asked the elders for help.

They had once provided him with knowledge about the testing stone; maybe they would also know of a way to test endurance and efficiency.

And, sure enough, they did.

While the elders couldn’t give a name for a particular device, they did mention looking at things with suppression. In this concept, a person would be required to maintain a consistent level of spiritual energy while taking fatigue into account.

And that was how Luca ended up installing a plug-in called the "Spiritual Resilience Testing Module: Suppression Series for 50,000 CP."

He bought it with just a twitch of ONE eye this time, installed it, and planned to test it privately before showing it to everyone.

That was the plan.

But as usual, his plans got derailed.

Because he underestimated how long it would take D-29 to adjust the settings to match the Empire’s spiritual energy conventions.

And the moment it finished, Cece happened to walk by.

She saw the machine.

Her eyes sparkled like she’d just discovered a new mineral.

And obviously, she immediately told everyone about it.

And now here they were.

Hundreds of spectators. Packed into the largest hall. Eager. Noisy. Hungry for glory and mostly hungry for bread.

Luca rubbed the side of his face, trying not to sigh too loudly.

Master Quinn strolled up beside him, smirking like he’d been waiting for this moment.

"Don’t look so stiff, Young Lord," Quinn said. His voice was low, amused. "If you’re not careful, they’ll eat you alive before the test even starts."

Luca gave him a helpless look.

But Master Quinn just clapped him on the shoulder and started.

The moment the master mechanic stepped forward, the noise vanished.

One second, the hall was full of chatter and excitement. The next, it was as if someone flipped a switch. Every pilot straightened up. Shoulders squared. Eyes forward.

You’d think they were waiting for an Imperial inspection.

Quinn’s deep voice cut through the air.

"As of now," he barked, "we have eighty-four pilots. All with a rating of A or higher. All of you here have volunteered. You’ve recovered enough to return to piloting, and you want to earn your place back in a cockpit."

"Yes, sir!"

The response was so loud it nearly startled Luca and Ollie, who had been standing behind unceremoniously.

Quinn’s eyes narrowed, and he jabbed a finger at the crowd.

"Then listen. And listen well. You’d better take this seriously. Because our Young Lord," he gestured dramatically toward Luca, "is letting you pilot the mechas he is personally building with his own two hands."

Luca flinched. Quinn’s voice carried like a cannon shot, making even the ceiling shiver.

"Not everyone gets that honor. So you better earn it!" Quinn practically roared, and for a split second, his envy peeked through. After all, he wasn’t a pilot. He could only stand here and admire them.

That made it all the more important to him that the best of the best be chosen.

What if they ended up with someone who wouldn’t be able to make the mecha move?!

The embarrassment! His blood pressure!

Meanwhile, Luca stood there, trying not to wilt.

Everyone was staring at him now. Their eyes were practically twinkling with determination.

Why did it feel like they expected him to sprout wings and fly around giving blessings?

He cleared his throat softly, trying to look less shy than he felt.

If he backed down now, he’d just embarrass himself. But what could he do? No one has tried the simulation!

So he stepped forward and began speaking.

"Hello, everyone! I’m here to explain why we’re going to such lengths."

"It’s because biomechas," Luca started, his voice quiet at first but gaining strength, "are very different from the combination mechas you’re used to."

He glanced at D-29, who was already standing off to the center, striking cool poses like some kind of model.

"..."

Cough.

Luca continued anyway.

"They’re fully operated using spiritual energy. Every single command, every movement, is powered directly by the pilot’s spiritual energy. Even though they have a backup reactor, the mecha will not function without your energy."

There were small murmurs among the pilots, but no one looked away.

"That’s why this test is important. We’ll be checking your ability to maintain spiritual energy continuously. How efficient you are. And how long you can sustain it."

His golden eyes swept across the hall, meeting their determined gazes.

"But please keep this in mind," he added firmly. "We cannot afford pilots who drain themselves to the point of collapse. If you pass out before you can tap out, you will fail. You’ll have to try again next time."

That seemed to surprise them. A few even looked puzzled.

Luca’s voice softened.

"Because we cannot operate these mechas without self-awareness. Pushing past your limits recklessly doesn’t help anyone. Not only would corruption prey on you in that state, but in the worst case, you may end up not coming back alive. And I refuse to risk that, so I hope you all understand."

The hall went quiet again, but this time it wasn’t out of sheer excitement.

It was respect.

Many of them exchanged glances, clearly impressed that their Young Lord didn’t wish for sacrifices in the name of victory.

Luca relaxed slightly at their reaction.

"D-29," he said, nodding toward the little assistant.

D-29 perked up and started playing the instructional video on the large display.

The crowd watched as a clear procedure unfolded.

Fifty pilots at a time would enter the chamber.

Once activated, the chamber would increase localized suppression force. At first, it would feel like twice normal gravity. Then three. Then five.

On top of that, a disruptive spiritual current would buffet their senses, forcing them to focus and maintain their flow of energy despite the chaos.

The rules were simple.

Remain standing, or sitting upright, for as long as possible.

The moment a participant fell prone or fainted, the time was logged, and the test ended.

Then the next group would take their turn.

It all sounded... straightforward.

On paper.

But they weren’t on paper.