Three days later, in the Ruhr region of Germany, helicopters landed one after another on the tarmac. Out stepped a parade of people—some in sharp suits, others in crisp military uniforms—all clearly top-tier professionals from high-end fields. They made their way into a factory with a rugged, industrial vibe: the main European production base for Mecha Hunters.
But calling this a factory is almost an insult—it’s nothing like your average assembly line. This place is straight out of a sci-fi movie: a semi-underground facility with a futuristic flair. Parts are manufactured all over Europe, then shipped to the Ruhr industrial zone for final assembly. Germany, a country with a legacy in heavy military industry since World War II, is playing to its strengths here. The Ruhr Mecha Factory is one of the world’s top-tier, most reliable mecha production plants.
Today’s the big day: the rollout ceremony for the sixth-generation mecha, with a guest list packed with so-called VIPs and industry bigshots. At eleven in the morning, the last large helicopter touched down. The doors swung open—Jill Young strode out in the lead, with Kost right behind her. The two most important people had arrived.
The top manager of the Ruhr Factory personally came out to greet them, leading Jill Young straight into the heart of the facility.
"Honored Vice Chairman and Commander Kost, gentlemen—please direct your attention to the right. That’s our main assembly hall here at the Ruhr Factory." Riding the automatic escalator, the manager introduced the site in heavily accented English: "As you can see, there are three mechas on the production line still being assembled. These are all sixth-generation models. Judging by their frames, the sixth-gen mecha aren’t much bigger than the fifth-gen, but performance-wise, they’re a whole new ballgame."
Everyone looked over at the workshop to the right of the escalator—a massive pit, dozens of meters deep, where countless robotic arms and workers bustled about. Sparks from welding rained down like a waterfall.
"The sixth-generation mecha has made huge leaps in detection, mental synchronization, and material strength, but the biggest breakthrough is in the power system. Thanks to the most advanced reactor design, the sixth-gen mecha uses a Single Power Core."
"Single Power Core?" someone in the back asked, puzzled. "Didn’t we ditch single cores after the second generation? Why bring it back for Gen Six?"
The manager replied confidently, "Honestly, when it comes to combat stability and safety, a Single Power Core beats a multi-core setup hands down. The only reason we switched to multiple cores was that a single core couldn’t power the whole mecha. The fifth-gen mecha had five power cores, but all the extra shielding, cooling, stabilizers, support, and stress structures ate up a ton of space and left the mecha underpowered. In battle, if any of those secondary cores got hit, you could lose a limb—or worse, blow up. If you ask me, that’s just bad design."
Someone in the crowd looked awkward—probably one of the fifth-gen design engineers.
The manager, after stirring up a bit of rivalry, continued, "With the sixth-gen mecha, we’ve completely solved the power and transmission issues. The single power core at the chest easily supplies all the energy the mecha needs. With more space freed up, the limbs are way more flexible, stronger, and powerful than Gen Five. The sixth-gen mecha can handle Level 4 Kaiju, no sweat."
The manager then elaborated on the forward-thinking design and superiority of their mecha. People in the back whispered and nodded, clearly impressed by the sixth-gen’s excellence.
"Alright, enough with the speeches." Jill Young raised her hand, quieting the room. "Did you meet my two requirements or not?"
The manager immediately bowed slightly, smiling with confidence. "We’ve met both your requirements, ma’am."
"Good!" Jill grinned, saying no more. The others were clueless about her two demands, but Kost rolled his eyes and sighed—he knew one of them, and it was enough to make his forehead twitch.
Patting the manager’s shoulder, Jill was all smiles. "I’ll be testing it myself in a bit. If it doesn’t meet the mark…"
"Don’t worry, it’ll definitely pass!" The manager pounded his chest in assurance—he wouldn’t dare mess with this little firecracker.
Soon, the escalator brought everyone to a viewing platform, half-suspended in midair above the workshop—dozens of meters deep. Anyone with a fear of heights stayed far from the edge. Only a select few made it up here; the rest packed the tiered stands below, packed to the rafters with a sea of people.
Directly ahead, a giant cloth draped over something massive—obviously the first sixth-gen mecha.
With all the leaders assembled, the rollout ceremony kicked off. Hosts, audience, photographers, and reporters took their places, rousing music blared, translators in eight languages started up, and the ceremony officially began!
The rollout ceremony was both grand and no-nonsense—this was wartime, after all, not some drawn-out government conference. Kost, representing the top brass of the Hunter Organization, spoke briefly but with real punch. His words, though simple, fired up the crowd.
"He’s got a real knack for politics," Jill nodded. Since arriving in this world, Kost had been a master of PR and hype, always backing the Hunter Program. Even Jill’s own popularity as ‘The Queen’ owed plenty to Kost’s behind-the-scenes work. If not for his push to make her a hero in tough times, she’d never be this famous. This big guy was no movie buffoon—he had serious chops.
"Now, please welcome the Vice Chairman of the Global United Front, first pilot of the sixth-gen mecha, and famed battle hero—to unveil the very first mecha!" The host’s words sent the crowd into a frenzy. Jill stepped to the front, waved to the audience, and the cheers ramped up even higher. Even from this distance, shouts of “Queen!” in every language echoed, leaving the VIPs stunned by her wild popularity.
Of course, they wouldn’t make the leaders haul a hundred-meter-long cloth by hand. There was a fancy rope at the front—just pull it, and the machinery would do the rest.
Jill raised her hand, and the cameras zoomed in. She looked regal—her platinum hair practically glowing. But instead of grabbing the rope, she hesitated, then lowered her hand. “A mecha is a war machine. Unveiling it with a silly rope? Lame!”
As everyone reeled from the twist, Jill suddenly whipped out a pair of pistols! She aimed at the front, grinning. “This is my mecha, and I’ll unveil it my way!”
Bang bang bang—the sound of Volcano Dual Pistols echoed. Eight bullets shot through the air, snapping the cloth’s steel cables one by one. Sparks flew, and the massive curtain drifted down.
“Whoa!” The crowd’s jaws dropped as the curtain fell, revealing the mecha. Officially, the sixth-gen was supposed to be about the same size as the fifth, but this one looked a hundred meters tall. Its black steel body, streaked with platinum, radiated raw power.
If the Berserker was a fearless warrior, this one was a battle-hardened emperor leading the charge. Both were fierce, but this was something else. Everyone was floored—no previous mecha looked this good, and the camera flashes went wild.
Jill couldn’t help but laugh—after all, she’d personally (well, technically Jack had done the drawing) designed this mecha.
When it comes to looks, the Berserker wasn’t much to write home about—most of its fame came from Jill’s fighting style. Sure, war machines aren’t supposed to be pretty… but my ride has to be top-notch!
So Jill gathered all the sixth-gen design sketches. Using the closest model as a base, she and the team hashed out tweaks until the new mecha was born. Jill thought she was decent at drawing, but Jack—who’d inherited their dad’s artistic chops—produced hand-drawn designs that stunned even the pros.
For five whole minutes, gasps and applause filled the air—even the bigwigs on the viewing platform stood up to clap. The host seized the moment: “Ladies and gentlemen, the Vice Chairman personally designed this mecha’s appearance. Pretty impressive, right?”
“Yes!” the crowd roared in perfect unison.
“Now, let’s invite the Vice Chairman to cut the ribbon and name the mecha!”
“Woo!”
The manager handed Jill a bottle of champagne. Western tradition says you tie a bottle to a rope for a ship’s launch—just let it swing and smash, and you’re good. The mecha ceremony kept the tradition alive.
But Jill held the bottle without hanging it up right away. She stared at the mecha—its head level with the platform, almost as if they were making eye contact. The crowd hushed, waiting for Jill to speak, waiting for the mecha’s name.
Jill spoke.
When I pilot a mecha, I become one with it. I see with my own eyes, hear with my own ears, but I truly feel like a giant—standing tall and proud. The world is vast, and we need a vast spirit to stand in it. Nature is powerful, and we must be even stronger to never bow before it.
Fighting monsters in a mecha is a strange feeling. Everything else seems tiny—just me and my enemy, side by side. Seeing the world through a mecha’s eyes is nothing like seeing it as a human. Every battle with a Kaiju stirs something deep inside me. Maybe that’s where my martial inspiration hides.
This mecha will be with me on the next leg of my journey.
I hope this mecha goes even further—and gives me more insight into the way of the fist.
This mecha will bear witness to humanity’s counterattack.
I hope one day I’ll reach the summit, leap from the peak, and see a whole new world.
This mecha will march toward victory.
I hope I’ll finally find my way—the true meaning of my fist.
So—
I hereby name this mecha—Fist King!