The referee had already announced Bing Snow's victory. Andre had dismounted from his mecha and was preparing to offer his congratulations. But curiously, Tan Bingbing had yet to emerge from her cockpit. The tinted shielding offered no view inside, and none could guess what was truly happening within.
What no one knew was this: their beloved Ice Queen was locked in a kiss with a man.
It was Bingbing who recovered her senses first. She abruptly pushed Endymion away, her chest heaving, her expression torn between panic and fury.
"Get out." Her voice was as cold and sharp as ever, stripping away any warmth from mere moments ago.
"I'm sorry… but if I step out now…" Endymion's voice faltered. For some reason, guilt surged within him—guilt tied to the thought of Fang Yang. Whatever had just happened felt like betrayal.
"Just go!" Bingbing snapped, her eyes clouded with a storm of emotions, yet her tone admitted no refusal.
With a helpless smile, Endymion opened the cockpit and stepped out.
The arena instantly erupted.
"Huh? That's a guy!""What the hell? Where's my goddess?""Who the hell is that moron?"
"Wait! That's Endymion!" someone shouted. He was well-known after all, just not clearly visible earlier.
Even Andre looked stunned. Of all people, he hadn't expected a man to emerge from the mecha.
Bingbing followed moments later. The crowd went wild. Had they been inside the same cockpit the whole time? What was their relationship?
Speculation spread like wildfire, but not a soul imagined Bingbing had relied on Endymion's strategy to win the match. To the public, Endymion was still just a glorified failure.
He left in haste. His plan had been for Bingbing to drive the mecha away and release him somewhere private. But she, clearly furious, had left him no choice but to emerge in full view of tens of thousands.
That evening, Endymion returned to the Zitherwood Grove to continue his arcane training. Meanwhile, rumors of his "intimacy" with Bingbing flooded the academy.
Once again, tales of his so-called exploits circulated. Most of Bingbing's admirers refused to believe that such a nobody could ever win her heart. It had to be some kind of misunderstanding. They comforted themselves with the belief that, whatever his presence inside the mecha meant, it certainly didn't mean they were lovers.
But that was just self-deception. Deep down, they harbored doubts. And many were already thinking the same thing—Endymion needed to be taught a lesson. A harsh one.
Unaware of the storm he'd stirred, Endymion continued his routine: training combat qi by day, studying magic by night. But concern gnawed at him—final evaluations loomed, and his physical condition still wasn't strong enough for piloting a mecha.
Three days remained until exams, and Endymion hit his first bottleneck. His Level-1 combat qi had stalled; despite his efforts, he felt no further progress.
Though familiar with the theory of qi cultivation, he had never practiced it before, and now, unsure how to advance, he could only let nature take its course.
"Perhaps I've been pushing too hard. Some things take time." He decided to give himself a break and clear his mind.
The midday sun beat down relentlessly, waves of heat rippling through the streets. It was Endymion's first time venturing out at noon in nearly a month.
He left the academy and made his way straight to Old Jin's Mecha Relics, a shop run by a man everyone still called "Fat Uncle," though he was anything but young.
Despite its name, the "antique store" specialized not in trinkets or heirlooms—but in obsolete mechas. It had been running for over thirty years, and though time had aged the owner, the name remained unchanged.
From the earliest days of mecha warfare to now, countless models had come and gone. Though designs had evolved, Endymion knew one truth: old didn't always mean worse.
Modern mechas demanded high physical compatibility—a standard Endymion simply couldn't meet. So, he had turned his interest toward the past.
"Uncle Jin, got anything new in stock?" he called as he entered the musty shop.
It was quiet, as usual. No customers. Uncle Jin was dozing behind the counter, but stirred when he heard the familiar voice.
"Endy! Been a while," the old man greeted warmly.
"Yeah, been busy. How's business these days?"
"Same as ever—dead." Uncle Jin chuckled, then paused. "Actually… I did get something strange recently. Want to see it?"
"Strange?" Endymion frowned. "Isn't it just a mecha?"
"I think it is… but also, not quite. Come on, take a look. You'll see what I mean."
The moment Endymion saw the relic in the storage room, his heart skipped a beat.
The thing was in ruins, yet its frame still hinted at mecha design. What stunned him wasn't the structure—it was the faint pulse of arcane energy emanating from within.
He followed the magical resonance to its source—a massive, embedded mana crystal.
Closer inspection confirmed it: this wasn't a normal mecha.
It lacked the standard power system seen in every known design. But Endymion could tell—the crystal was the power core. Though depleted now, its former strength must have been immense.
Mana crystals were incredibly rare and valuable across the continent, capable of storing vast reserves of magical energy. Mages often used them to accelerate spellcasting or augment absorption.
Etched across the cracked armor were symbols—hundreds of them. To the untrained eye, they might seem decorative. But to Endymion, they were unmistakable:
Magic circles. Complex. Beautiful. Alchemical.
Whoever had crafted this mecha was no ordinary engineer—they were a master sorcerer and legendary artificer.
Even he couldn't immediately decipher the runes. It would take time. Study. Reverence.
Could it be that a mage had once crossed into this realm? Or had this realm once embraced magic?
"Uncle Jin, is this thing for sale?" Endymion finally asked, eyes still glued to the relic.
"What is it, Endy?" Jin looked puzzled.
"I'm not entirely sure… but I'd like to study it." Endymion wasn't ready to reveal anything about magic—not yet.
"If you want it, take it," Uncle Jin said with a shrug. "Didn't cost me much. Consider it a gift."
"Thank you, Uncle." Endymion accepted without pretense. But now a new problem presented itself: where would he keep it?
His dorm room, though private, was far too small. And to fully analyze it—perhaps even perform alchemical experiments—he would need a secluded space.
Somewhere secret. Somewhere safe.
Somewhere the Arcane Mech could awaken once more.
...