Chapter 972: Nilo: A Mechanic Who Doesn't Like Melee Has No Soul

Chapter 972 Nilo: A Mechanic Who Dislikes Close Combat Has No Soul

Somewhere within the Luminous Dust Cluster, the forces commanded by Tenny came under a fresh wave of assault; exchanging volleys of raw psionic energy with the enemy on the move, they dispatched small assault skiffs to weave through the labyrinthine battlefield, steadily closing the distance to initiate boarding actions—the natural bane of the Kundu fleet, which lacked any espers.

In previous engagements, Tenny had conspicuously allowed the Black Star Legion to hold back, his protective intent far too obvious; to slightly placate the grievances of other factions under his command, he assigned the Black Star Legion the primary combat role for this encounter with a minor enemy detachment.

Amid the chaotic theater of war, a shuttle-shaped light warship executed a series of agile maneuvers, threading through the crisscrossing beams of energy cannons while deftly evading the ever-expanding spheres of raw psionic energy.

Within the hull, multiple armed boarding squads stood ready in their respective assault pods; Nilo’s unit was among those deployed aboard this very vessel.

The interior of the assault pod was washed in iron-gray tones, somewhat dim, save for a row of red indicator lights flickering overhead that cast a crimson hue across every face; along the metallic bulkheads, blue-glowing electromagnetic discs were neatly arrayed, and Nilo’s squadmates stood in two columns, their backs pressed against different discs, their combat suits magnetically locked in place to steady their bodies.

As the ship performed high-G evasive flight, the pod trembled faintly; outside the viewport, streaks of naval artillery fire repeatedly slashed through the periphery of vision, leaving Nilo pale-faced and gripped by a creeping dread.

“Easy, kid, no need to fear; our ship’s maneuverability far outstrips theirs, they will not land a hit on us.”

The squad leader, clad in heavy assault armor, let out a hearty laugh and clapped Nilo on the shoulder.

Anyone who says that is usually doomed in the next second… Nilo could not help but mutter inwardly.

The academy offered simulation courses for assault pod deployments, and Nilo knew every protocol by heart, yet faced with the visceral reality of combat, his nerves still ran taut.

“This is your first time fighting alongside us since joining the squad; let us see what you are really made of, and do not drag us down,” the leader said with a gritty chuckle.

“Understood.” Nilo exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers into a fist.

Waiting inside the assault pod was a torment that stretched time into an agonizing crawl; Nilo lost track of how long it had been before the cabin suddenly echoed with a dispatch alert.

“Target locked. Assault pod deployment in forty-five seconds. Prepare for combat! I repeat, prepare for combat!”

A countdown flashed across the pod’s door screen; at the sight, Nilo’s heart seized, and as he glanced around, every teammate’s face had hardened into grim resolve.

“Final equipment check!” the leader barked, his tone turning steel-serious.

Everyone had long been ready, yet they ran through the motions once more; Nilo, too, initiated another diagnostic cycle on his mecha.

He was currently outfitted in a specialized suit he had personally refined; backed by his privileged status, he could draw upon vast resources to forge it from rare materials, yielding performance that far surpassed the Black Star Legion’s standard-issue armor.

Though his standing could have easily secured him armor crafted by a master mechanic, he far preferred the quiet satisfaction of deciphering and drafting his own blueprints.

The suit’s original blueprint was based on the Mountain Ape once piloted by Han Xiao, but lacking such profound mechanical mastery, Nilo had engineered a streamlined, scaled-down variant of his own design, christening the model Steel Ape with a focus on close-quarters combat.

For a proper, frail mechanic, Nilo’s foremost consideration when building armor was inexplicably melee capability… steeped in the influence of Han Xiao and Mia, he too had developed an undeniable fondness for hand-to-hand brawling.

Nilo’s current rank sat at C+, but blessed with Perfect Mechanical Sense and a steady accumulation of standard mechanical proficiencies over the years, his actual engineering prowess rivaled that of a B-rank, allowing him to craft gear that vastly outclassed his peers.

“Stand by, ten seconds to drop!”

Hearing the leader’s shout, Nilo drew a deep breath, willed his visor shut, and fell into a combat-ready stance alongside his squadmates.

Rumble!

In the next instant, a colossal thrust slammed into them; the bulkheads shuddered violently as the assault pod was catapulted into the void.

The screen mapped the positions of both target and ally, the distance between them shrinking at a breakneck pace.

Bang!

The entire pod jolted with a deafening crash as it bit into the enemy hull; its integrated laser cutters swiftly carved a breach through the outer plating, plunging them straight into the enemy ship’s interior.

The doors hissed open to reveal a ravaged enemy corridor; without a moment’s hesitation, the squad surged out behind their leader, beginning the grim work of clearing the vessel.

Enemy reinforcements arrived with swift brutality, and the squad soon found itself swarmed.

Every Kundu warrior had undergone genetic conditioning; though they lacked esper abilities and their bizarre powers, they possessed formidable physical constitutions, their base attributes roughly equivalent to operatives between levels twenty-five and forty-five, spanning E to D rank, and when coupled with their combat armor, their fighting strength was far from negligible.

The squad found themselves pinned in the middle of a corridor segment as enemy reinforcements poured in from both ends, advancing step by step, firearms raised and unleashing a relentless crossfire toward the center.

Nilo had already tossed out a compression sphere, which unfolded into a miniature armed fortress to shelter the squad; its armored walls and expansive energy barrier absorbed the pincer fire from the Kundu soldiers, allowing the team to return fire from within the stronghold.

“Good work, kid.”

The leader offered a word of praise, then pointed to the deputy and commanded decisively, “We are pushing through. I will take the front, you cover the rear. Nilo, deploy turrets and mechanical soldiers in the back to provide covering fire.”

With that, the leader charged straight out of the fortress with a group of squadmates, braving the hail of fire; the advantage of being an esper lay in utterly overwhelming individual combat power, and once they crashed into the enemy ranks, it would be a one-man slaughter.

Nilo steadied his nerves and immediately hurled a cluster of compression spheres, which rapidly reconfigured into an array of automated turrets.

Rat-tat-tat—

The turrets opened fire on both flanks, laying down a protective barrage for the advancing team.

Amplified by his mechanical force, the ranged weapons unleashed devastating power, instantly shredding the Kundu formations on both sides, detonating shields and outer plating alike, and blowing soldiers into gory mist as splattered fluids painted the bulkheads and deck.

With a mass of enemies felled in an instant, streams of gray vapor flowed into the death mark on the back of Nilo’s hand—a small gift Hela had bestowed upon him long ago, designed to slowly temper his mental strength with every kill, and only now was he truly putting its power to use.

Bolstered by his firepower, his teammates effortlessly shattered the Kundu lines, cutting through them like dry weeds in a merciless massacre.

Several squadmates cast sidelong glances at Nilo’s performance, silently impressed.

“This rookie’s firepower is insane.”

“Is a standard C-rank mechanic really this deadly?”

“The kid has skill; no wonder he is connected to Lord Black Star.”

The squad pushed forward rapidly as enemy reinforcements multiplied, throwing themselves into the fray with reckless abandon; casualties mounted swiftly, painting the scene in grim brutality.

The martial artists, led by the captain, struck with crushing force; though their blows might not always shatter enemy armor, the surging martial aura alone was enough to rupture the organs of the Kundu soldiers trapped inside.

The floor littered with mangled corpses made Nilo slightly uneasy; even with his visor filtering the air, the acrid stench of blood still seeped through.

The Kundu’s fearless disregard for death left Nilo somewhat shaken, yet he and his teammates showed no mercy, treating every charging soldier as little more than fodder.

His tension stemmed merely from facing true slaughter for the first time; he harbored no pity for the enemy, as the Legion had drilled such sentiments out of him long ago.

Yet beneath that tension simmered a quiet thrill, and he had no desire to remain anchored in the rear, merely providing covering fire.

As a mechanic of the Black Star lineage, his brawling instincts were stirring restlessly; several times he nearly charged forward to showcase his melee skills, held back only by the fear of his teammates’ scorn.

Just then, a startled cry crackled over the squad’s comms channel.

Kundu soldiers had swarmed a Black Star Legionnaire in close quarters; one teammate’s shield collapsed under concentrated fire, his armor critically damaged and belching black smoke as the recoil sent him stumbling backward, dazed and disoriented.

A pack of Kundu soldiers drew high-frequency daggers from their belts and lunged as one, pinning him to the deck and stabbing wildly.

The trapped comrade was a C-rank martial artist with a formidable physique, his body wreathed in flaring aura; he fought back desperately, hurling enemies aside one after another, but the relentless tide of fearless attackers piled onto him, swarmed by burly foes in a tangle of limbs and steel that left his flesh pierced multiple times, teetering on the brink of death.

Nearby teammates were just turning to assist when a dark silhouette suddenly erupted from the rear, plowing through a wave of Kundu soldiers like a bowling ball scattering pins; it was Nilo, his hunger for close combat finally breaking its leash.

Several nearby Kundu turned to swarm him, but Nilo’s tactical display traced their attack vectors; following the prompts, he weaved and dropped with fluid grace, enemy daggers glancing harmlessly off his mecha’s shields in showers of energy sparks.

As he pivoted, wrist blades snapped out; riding the momentum of his evasions, he slashed and thrust with blinding speed, the cold steel parting armor and flesh as easily as tofu, drawing arcs of scalding blood that left every attacker dead in his wake.

Having freed his teammate, Nilo did not retreat to the rear to resume his gunnery; instead, he plunged deeper into the enemy ranks, cutting down foe after foe and throwing their formation into utter chaos.

Watching enemies fall beneath his wrist blades, a profound sense of satisfaction washed over Nilo.

—Indeed, a true mechanic belongs in the fray! This is the only way a mechanic should fight!

Witnessing the scene, a flicker of astonishment crossed the leader’s face.

Though he knew the temporarily assigned Nilo was likely the strongest among them, they had never fought side by side before today, leaving their understanding of each other’s capabilities rather shallow.

Now, watching Nilo carve a bloody path through the enemy like a scythe through wheat, the leader could not help but mutter inwardly:

“He is a perfectly fine mechanic, so why does he keep charging into melee? What kind of strange habit is that…”

Against a squad of espers, the Kundu soldiers aboard the ship stood little chance; the skirmish did not last long, and the enemy was swiftly annihilated.

Blue-green bloodstains smeared across the command room; every enemy crewman lay dead. The squad holstered their weapons, exhaling a collective, tentative sigh of relief.

Nilo recalled his compression sphere, his gaze drifting into a vacant stare as though still savoring the echoes of the skirmish.

Noticing this, the captain stepped over, draped an arm around Nilo’s shoulders, and chuckled, “Fine work out there. How are you holding up? Still not used to it?”

“I-I’m much better,” Nilo stammered, waving his hands hastily. The crucible of actual combat had already loosened the tight coil of his nerves.

Though tension had gripped him at first, he had soon found his rhythm, the strain melting away until the visceral thrill of close-quarters combat left him feeling strangely at ease.

He felt little of the usual revulsion that follows taking a life: first, the alien physiology blunted the psychological blow; second, espers possessed an innate mental fortitude that readily absorbed grotesque sights; and third, wielding transcendent power inevitably warped one’s mindset, breeding an instinct to unleash whatever gifts one held.

“First time’s always like this. A little blood on your hands and you’ll get used to it,” the captain said casually. “If anything sits wrong with you, come find me. I’ll give you some veteran’s advice, free of charge.”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

A smile touched Nilo’s lips, warmed by a faint swell of gratitude. Having fought side by side, the bonds of camaraderie had quietly taken root, drawing him closer to the squad.

……

Nilo’s first brush with life and death had gone smoothly, forging a solid core of self-assurance. The skirmish itself was brief, the Kunde fleet’s destruction a foregone conclusion, and the Imperial armada swiftly moved to sweep the battlefield.

Aboard the flagship, Teni watched the Black Star Legion’s deployed vessels return to formation largely unscathed, and gave a steady, approving nod.

The Legion’s minimal casualties pleased him greatly. As a commander, he possessed numerous means to shield them from harm, and he intended to offer this protection as a debt repaid to Han Xiao.

“Beep. Beep.”

Just then, the comm unit chimed abruptly.

Teni glanced at the display, his expression shifting slightly before he opened the channel, his tone tinged with deference:

“Lord Black Star, I had planned to visit you once the campaign concluded. I did not expect you to reach out first.”

“It’s been a while since we last spoke. I happen to have a favor to ask.” The voice on the line belonged to none other than Han Xiao.

“What do you need from me?” Teni, disinclined toward pleasantries, cut straight to the point.

“I hear you intend to shield the Black Star Legion’s forces?”

“I do,” Teni affirmed with a nod.

“Heh. That’s precisely what I’m asking of you. Don’t coddle my people too much. I sent them to war partly to answer the draft, and partly to temper them in fire,” Han Xiao replied, a brow arched in amusement.

“Understood.” Teni wasted no further words; with the principal himself giving the order, he would not refuse.

“There’s one more thing. I’d like you to keep a special eye on this individual…”

Han Xiao transmitted Nilo’s dossier to Teni, an inscrutable smile playing on his lips:

“The boy is my disciple. I want him hardened by experience. If circumstances allow, throw him into the fray as often as you can… And should he stumble into any ‘accidents,’ assume it’s merely my way of training him. Don’t be alarmed.”

He considered himself merciful enough, at least, to leave Nilo’s confidence-building maiden battle untouched.

But from here on, he would begin pulling the strings, hence the courtesy call to Teni beforehand.

Teni skimmed the file and gave a single nod. “I’ll see it arranged.”

“I appreciate it. Once the fighting ends, I’ll be waiting for you in the Gaulu Star Cluster. We’ll catch up properly then.”

“Agreed.”

The channel closed. Teni turned his gaze back to Nilo’s profile, murmuring in quiet contemplation:

“Black Star’s disciple, is he… Then he certainly deserves careful handling.”

……

Meanwhile, a mixed legion under another Imperial officer had just concluded its own skirmish in a distant sector, clearing the debris before resuming its march.

The commanding officer, fresh from directing the engagement, retired to rest. Duties temporarily fell to the deputy commander, granting Gao De, the commander’s adjutant, a brief respite of his own.

Exchanging brief greetings with his colleagues, Gao De retreated to his quarters, shed his officer’s uniform, and stepped into the washroom. Soon, the steady rush of water echoed within.

Emerging from the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stood bare-chested before the mirror, scrutinizing his own physique with meticulous care.

Pale skin, a tall and lean frame, unremarkable features…

Staring into the glass, Gao De raised a hand to trace the reflection’s cheek, a faint, ambiguous smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“A youthful body… Truly wonderful.”