"Listen up, everyone! I'm Cost—the head honcho of Hunter Academy, the big boss behind the Mecha Hunter program, and your overall commander-in-chief." A middle-aged Black man appeared before the crowd, pacing the stage like he owned the place, his gaze sharp as a tack as he swept over the candidates. "You’ve come from all corners of the world, survived the first round of selection, got the basic skills and the nerve-link chops, and you’re all dreaming big about piloting a Mecha Hunter. But let me tell you, it ain’t that easy. Not by a long shot."
He stopped, his dark face looking like it was carved out of stone—cold, hard, and totally no-nonsense. "There are 227 of you, but let’s be real, we don’t have a hundred mechas lying around. So, not everyone here is making it to the cockpit. Most of you? You’re not gonna see action inside a mecha. This is a brutal training and selection process."
Cost glanced at the mixed reactions below and snorted, "I see some of you rolling your eyes, some of you looking cocky. Well, here’s the truth: just because your spirit score’s through the roof doesn’t mean you’ll be a pilot. Pilots are fighters—they need the full package. Most importantly, you gotta have grit and the will to eat dirt and keep going. Willpower can be trained, skills can be leveled up. If you work hard, even if your spirit score sucks right now, you can catch up. And if you’re ahead, don’t get comfy—you might get smoked by the underdogs real soon."
"So, bust your butts! After a month of classes, training, and cutthroat selection, your fate gets decided." Cost gave a little nod, then waved his hand like a game show host: "Alright, training starts now!"
This old guy’s the big boss, but no way he’s doing everything himself. For each part of the program, there are pros to whip everyone into shape. Among the 227 pilot candidates, you’ve got hot-blooded teens, steady middle-agers, delicate girls, beanpole nerds, pure-hearted types, and folks with schemes brewing under their hats.
But no matter who you are or what your game is, everyone’s gunning for that Mecha Hunter pilot seat. It’s do-or-die.
Everyone’s itching to show off, ready to go all out. Jill Young swept her gaze across the crowd and spotted all kinds of wild ambition flashing in their eyes.
Training kicked off at lightning speed. First up—no surprise—physical fitness.
"Get this in your heads: to be a pilot, you gotta have stamina for days and a body that won’t quit." On the beach, a shirtless muscleman strutted back and forth, his arms looking more jacked than an NBA star’s. "Your body is the foundation. If you don’t have the energy, you won’t have the focus or the guts for a real monster fight. Battles with kaiju are intense and can drag on forever, so every one of you needs to be in beast mode!"
He pointed at the long stretch of sand. "Everyone, run along the beach. Every three kilometers, there’s a flag. Grab a flag at each checkpoint. Run your hearts out, and at the end, whoever’s got the most flags racks up the highest score."
Hearing this, a bunch of faces dropped—especially Li Yuncong and the rest of the beanpole otaku squad. Three kilometers for a flag? Some of them would be lucky to stumble a single kilometer, let alone snatch a flag! But others were grinning, totally confident in their stamina. The big guy—almost busting out in laughter—got a sneaky jab from Swallow right at the last second and managed to hold it in, but he still looked like he was ready to flex on everyone.
"Obviously, you’re not just running for fun. Everyone gets a weighted vest." The instructor waved his hand, and a crew rolled out a pile of vests, leg weights, and backpacks. "These have lead blocks inside—weights vary from five kilos up to fifty. We’ll tweak the loads later, but for today, I’m eyeballing it and calling the shots."
Everyone got their gear. Li Yuncong weighed his vest—ten kilos—and looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. Jasper Xiao slipped into his gear like a pro, bounced up and down, and grinned, "Mine’s thirty-five kilos. Not bad." Even the Gao Sisters suited up with iron determination. Seeing that, Jasper figured he’d better quit whining.
Even a nerd’s got dignity. If the little girls aren’t complaining, how could he be the first to bail?
Maybe it’s because it’s day one, but no one’s whining or picking fights yet. Everyone’s just getting used to the extra weight. Fifty kilos is like piggybacking a whole person—no joke. Running with that load for three kilometers, especially on sand, is a beast of a challenge.
Swallow was getting used to the weight, whispering, "Wolf, Big Guy—let’s not go all out yet. Blend in and scope things out, don’t draw too much attention. Especially you, Big Guy—keep it chill, save the showboating for later. We don’t even know who the chosen ones from Tokyo or Sydney are, so if we stick out, we’ll be target practice. Got it?"
The other two nodded. Turns out that young guy was Wolf. With the captain MIA, Swallow seemed to be calling the shots for now.
But things were totally different on Jill Young’s side. The Gao Sisters, Jasper Xiao, Li Yuncong, and a few other familiar faces all clustered around her. Even though it hadn’t been long, Jill was already attracting a squad of her own.
"I’ve only got one rule for you—give it everything you’ve got! Even if you’re dead tired and faceplant, crawl if you have to, but don’t wimp out. Doesn’t matter how impossible it looks—if you quit without trying, you’re a loser. So get out there and crush it! Got it?"
"Heck yeah!"
Jill Young's speech was short, but she radiated such confidence that everyone turned to look.
"Three, two, one—go!" The instructor shouted, kicking off the long-distance run. Over two hundred people started sprinting down the beach. At first, things were fine, but after barely six hundred meters, people started dropping out. Li Yuncong was the first to run out of breath, legs aching, feet numb, and drenched in cold sweat. Hardcore otaku life never prepared him for this kind of torture. Soon, his mouth tasted bitter and salty, and even swinging his arms was a struggle.
(This chapter isn’t over yet ^.^ Click next page to keep reading!)
But then, he heard a voice next to his ear: "Kid, those two Gao Sisters are still going strong, and you—a grown man—are already giving up?" He turned around. It was Jill Young, her voice low and eyes narrowed: "If those girls are still running and you dare to stop, I swear I'll deal with you. Believe it or not?"
"Huh?!" At that moment, Li Yuncong believed her—really believed her—and suddenly found the strength to sprint forward like his life depended on it.
Jasper Xiao sidled up, teasing, "People always find hidden reserves when they're running for their lives—isn’t that how it works?"
"Quit with the snark. He’s sticking with the Gao Sisters, so you’re with me. If you can’t keep up, I’ll deal with you too!" Jill Young ignored Jasper Xiao’s dumbstruck face and kept running, calling out to her crew, "Move it, move it! Don’t drag your feet!"
While most people were gasping for air or pacing themselves to save energy, Jill Young’s booming voice cut through the crowd. Lots of people glanced at her, some sneered, thinking she’d burn out soon. Plus, the instructor hadn’t set a time limit, so slow and steady seemed smarter—maybe they could cover more ground and snag an extra flag. Plenty of smart folks slowed down, forming a sluggish herd, and dragging others down with them.
But some heard her and picked up the pace, running a little faster. These stubborn fools, eyes red and teeth clenched, had one thing on their minds: If even that skinny girl—and her wooden-faced pretty boy—can keep up, how can I, a grown man, lag behind?
And just like that, the running pack split into two groups. The front group weren’t necessarily the fittest, but they were willing to push themselves. The rear group kept a steady, slow pace, and honestly, they’d probably end up running farther overall.
The burly instructor watched all this quietly. No pushing, no encouragement—just observing.
In the end, half the runners didn’t make it to the three-kilometer mark. Three kilometers will kill you even on a track, let alone with a heavy pack on sand. But after three thousand meters, things changed—someone was way out in front. Jill Young.
She wasn’t running especially fast, but her pace never changed from the start. Even loaded down, she looked relaxed, almost light on her feet. Her platinum-blonde hair swayed with every step—oddly mesmerizing.
"Ha! Show-off much?" Wolf scoffed. "The tall poppy gets cut down—she won’t last."
"Tall poppy?" Swallow paused, then suddenly whispered, "Wait, that’s not right—she’s playing a much smarter game than I realized!"
"What do you mean?"
"This isn’t China—this is basically a Hollywood hero movie, Pacific Rim style. The whole 'tall poppy' thing doesn’t really apply here. For Westerners, showing off is how you get noticed. This is a crisis movie; if you’re a dumb bird, sure, you get shot, but if you’re a golden bird? Don’t forget, she scored a hundred on her spirit test!"
Swallow’s mind raced. "No way, this is like a high-level job interview. She just tricked a bunch of people into burning energy, probably to show off her leadership and organizing skills. That’s one cunning woman—I almost misjudged her. We can’t let her hog all the glory. King Kong, go!"
"Hahaha, watch me!" King Kong, unchained like a wild beast, let out a roar and charged ahead. He was like a tank rolling through, sending people flying and curses flying. Suddenly, a few others gunned it too, as if they’d just figured out the trick.
Jill Young, still leading the pack, didn’t care about any of that. She wasn’t scheming—she just did whatever felt good. For her, this run was basically a light jog. No need to show off superhuman strength, but no way was she going to hold herself back, either.