Chapter 81

　　"Winner, Merit of Caledon!" The announcer shouted, and the crowd cheered. A small, distinct portion booed and jeered, their selected champion having fallen to the Baron of Caledon.

　　Merit lowered his lasgun, the barrel still glowing a bright orange-red as the heat from its discharge slowly dissipated. His opponent`s mech slowly disappeared into motes of light, the arena floor gradually emptying, and the damage done in the conflict to the environment leisurely repaired itself.

　　Looking around the crowd for the first time since he entered the tournament, Merit was shocked by the amount of support he was getting. There were banners with his name and likeness, fans wearing clothing with his white symbol emblazoned on the front.

　　Tan and Miranda work fast.` Merit thought, waving to the crowd before returning to his waiting area.

　　The tournament was different than other events he had participated in. Rather than suddenly appearing in the arena, dropping from a pod or shooting up from the ground, the Pilots would enter from their allocated storage areas, walk to the edge of their designated battlefield and wait for the match to begin.

　　Once they were in position, their Mechs would not respond to commands until the battle started.

　　Merit`s battlefield had been a flat plain strewn with large boulders and trees for cover. The distance between him and his opponent was quite large, giving snipers or long-range weapons an advantage.

　　Unfortunately for the other Pilot, they were Piloting a Blade, casting aside the Laspistol for duel-wielding melee weapons.

　　Once the match began, the Blade charged toward Merit`s scout, who responded by carefully aiming his Heavy Lasgun. A shot to the torso was deflected off the Blade`s armour, so Merit adjusted for the Blade`s weak point, the knee.

　　One strike had been enough to cripple the Mech, and his next two shots penetrated the cockpit, eliminating it. It had been a remarkable display of marksmanship on Merit`s part but easily done as time slowed to a crawl for him.

　　Ever since he had Piloted Atlas, it seemed the Neural Link was stronger than ever, resulting in a state of hyper-thought and intense concentration that most Pilots only experienced under extreme duress. The fights appeared to be in slow motion to Merit. His opponent`s intent and actions were obvious.

　　Returning to the waiting area, Merit watched the other battles on the HUD display, looking for anyone who could present a serious challenge. His excitement and bloodlust, dormant for so long, began to stir at the thought of serious opposition.

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　　Mare watched the matches from the stands with fading interest. It had started exciting enough, but she quickly realized that the skill levels on display were below her own. After watching the competitors rotate out of the arena, only to be replaced with others as they cycled through all five hundred and twelve, she only found a handful that caught her eye.

　　The seeded Pilots from the clans were incredible, but that was to be expected. Even more, they were Piloting experimental variants from famous Manufacturers, highlighting their upcoming product lines to the watching consumers.

　　There were Scout variants with more agility than average, heavily armoured Blades, missile-launching Goblins, and even a new Mech, a light class variant of the Seraph named the Angel.`

　　If the latest variants and their skilled Pilots held an advantage, it wasn`t too unbalanced, as the top five hundred still held their own against them. Sim, Osiris and John all won their matches, moving on to the next bracket. But it was Merit that caught the crowd`s attention and the clans.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

　　Entering the Arena in a plain, unmodified Scout that any player in the Light Class could easily afford, he crushed his opponent without effort. Before the modified Blade could cross half the distance, Merit had crippled it and dispatched its Pilot, his shot so accurate that Mare wasn`t sure she could replicate the feat.

　　"Amazing!" Cid shouted from beside her, standing up from her seat and cheering Merit as he slowly returned to the waiting area. Micah was staring at the Scout with admiration, stunned at the display of skill.

　　"I didn`t know he was so good. He was above average on Beluth, but this is an entirely new level." Ty stated, confused at the difference. Merit had said he was injured shortly after the world event, meaning he had no time to train. If that were so, how did his skill improve so much over a few years? Was he lying about his injury?

　　"I don`t know," Mare replied, shaking her head at the comment. It was strange, and she was determined to follow up with her grandmother. If there was a secret to his improvement, could she replicate it somehow?

　　"What a show! That`s the end of the first round, and what a stunning spectacle it was! Two hundred and fifty-six Pilots remain, and for the next bracket, we`re going to shake things up a bit! We`ve added a flag to the center of each arena. In addition to eliminating your opponent, if a Pilot retrieves the flag and returns it to their side of the ring, that will count for their victory!" The announcer revealed, and in the center of the five rings, a large flag with MechTech Battlewarrior` was raised.

　　The terrain in each ring shifted, the boundaries widening as the rings reduced from five to four. The landscape became more complex, with shifting sands, artificial rivers and lakes, and forests with trees that reached the sky.

　　"Let round two begin!"

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　　Merit ran toward the center of the ring toward the flag while explosions sent gouts of fire and debris into the air. The forest around him was on fire, the red flames reflecting off his Mech`s black armour. Next to him, a burning tree cracked and groaned as it slowly tumbled to block his path.

　　Leaping into the air, he had barely left the ground when a warning rang out from his Mech. Instinctively, he engaged the Mech`s thrusters, spinning to the side as he did so. He careened to the left, rolling across the ground as a streak of red energy left a trail of destruction on the ground next to him.

　　Stopping his roll, Merit was back on his feet, his Lasgun sending lines of bluish-white energy into the burning forest in response. The air cracked with the gun`s discharge.

　　Not slowing down, he was already running, firing blindly behind him as he raced toward the flag.

　　This match was more challenging than he expected. As soon as it was announced that he would face one of the seeded players using a variant Mech, Merit knew it could be difficult. But the fact that his opponent`s Mech seemed custom-made for forest combat exacerbated things.

　　Nero of Clan Scarlett used a Scout Mech with a camouflage modification, allowing him to blend into his surroundings. It wouldn`t have been a problem without the dense foliage of the trees, but Nero held the advantage in this arena.

　　After hunting for him, Merit decided it would be easier to simply grab the flag and return since he had given up trying to track Nero`s movements. The enemy Scout had a few tells that gave away its location, but once the forest began to burn, it was too chaotic to spot it.

　　Casting aside his Lasgun, Merit pushed the Scout to move faster, weaving around the trees and jumping over obstacles. Counting the seconds in his head, he estimated that the recharge on the PPC would need another ten seconds before it could attack again, giving him time to get the flag and find cover.

　　The flag waved in the smoky air from an elevated pedestal in the center of the arena. Knowing that Nero would be targeting the Flag, Merit didn`t slow down as he sped forward, his hand clasping the flagpole just as the thermal warning notification rang out again.

　　Too fast!` Merit thought, spinning around and trying to get out of the way of the approaching streak of red energy. Even with his enhanced reflexes, he wasn`t fast enough to altogether avoid the attack. Making a snap decision, he spun slightly, sacrificing his left arm and shoulder as he crashed to the ground and began to roll.

　　"Warning, severe damage sustained. Left arm: Inoperable." The mechanical voice stated as Merit climbed to his feet. Racing back the way he came, he imagined the ticking clock in his mind, counting down the time to the next attack.

　　Bursting from the burning treeline, another stream of energy shot out from behind him. Leaping into the air again, he let his momentum carry him across the arena line just as the PPC burned through his Scout`s lower body.

　　Crashing onto the ground outside the arena with the flag still clutched in his hand, Merit heard the announcement.

　　"Winner, Merit of Caledon!"