Chapter 33
Chapter 33
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Culprits Captured
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The culprit who released the gold-devouring bugs had been caught—and unexpectedly, they turned out to be members of the Royal Military Academy's forestry patrol.
Gavin was a bit surprised when he learned the details. He'd originally thought it was some self-directed drama staged by Heinrich. But in reality, he shouldn't have assumed the worst of the emperor. The assassins' target had actually been assassination. As for why the students got caught in the crossfire, it was purely due to sloppy handling of the gold-devouring bugs' containment cage, which broke by accident. Chaos and Xuanbing just happened to pass through the bugs' flight path at that exact moment.
It was all such a perfect storm of coincidences—who could've predicted they'd take that route right then? No matter how meticulously Heinrich planned, he couldn't have foreseen when they'd finish their match.
Gavin was cautious by nature. He quietly tagged along to observe the interrogation without drawing attention.
The assassins' leader was an old man. Whatever methods the Imperial Guard had used to extract his confession had left him in a manic, deranged state. He thrashed and roared nonstop in the interrogation room:
"You hell-spawned devil! Heinrich—! You're the Alliance's sinner! Heaven won't forgive you! Won't forgive you!..."
"It's the Exiles," the Guard captain said nervously.
"They'd prepared the gold-devouring bugs for the assassination attempt, but we couldn't get anything more out of them. We'll need Military Intelligence's investigation for the specifics. We'll report to Your Majesty the moment we hear anything."
"The Exiles." Heinrich gave a faint, cold smile, showing no anger on his face. After a pause, he asked leisurely:
"—What do you think?"
The captain blinked, noticing Gavin leaning against the interrogation room door with his arms crossed. Backlit as he was, his expression was unreadable. He simply gazed at the screen showing the wildly struggling assassin, a faint flicker of pity in his eyes.
After a moment, he shook his head and turned to leave without a word, completely ignoring the emperor's question.
"Uh..." The captain shifted awkwardly and quickly changed the subject.
"Your Majesty, we were able to track down the ringleaders so quickly thanks to Major General Isaac's guidance. If he hadn't pinpointed the bugs' flight path in time..."
"I know," Heinrich said flatly.
"He has his own sources. You don't need to concern yourselves."
The captain was full of doubts, his curiosity practically bursting at the seams, but he could only bow out grudgingly.
Why had Major General Isaac zeroed in on the culprits so precisely and immediately?
Because Major General Isaac had known all along that there were moles in the forestry patrol.
Heinrich was lenient with his subordinates and strict with himself—sometimes he hardly seemed like an emperor at all. But even if he didn't act the part, one precept of any ruler was unavoidable: fear of assassination.
The Military Intelligence agents' top priority was secretly protecting the emperor's safety. No conspiracy or assassination plot in his vicinity escaped the eyes of these espionage elites. Caroline might not have known the forestry patrol had been infiltrated by Exiles, but Heinrich had been aware of it for ages.
The founding generals had long chafed at the Royal Military Academy—it wasn't just a minor grudge. That day, Aaron, Isaac, and the others had wanted to handle the assassins personally, wipe them out, and humiliate the academy in the process. But before they could act, the emperor suddenly intervened, telling them to stand down. He said to leave the assassins be; they'd prove useful someday.
Useful how?
Like an old cat toying with a mouse, the emperor had waited over half a year—and today, they'd served their purpose.
Heinrich had played this hand cleanly and efficiently. But if the Cabinet found out, they might storm the palace with blood oaths, decrying the emperor for indulging assassins and playing with fire. Best to keep it quiet.
News of the assassins' capture spread, and the entire competition committee breathed a collective sigh of relief. At last, they could proceed with the semifinals.
Heinrich summoned the Royal Military Academy's entire leadership for a blistering dressing-down. He tore into the officers responsible for security and patrols, then—following precedent in a move that played perfectly to the crowd—singled out Caroline for pointed criticism.
Not that he'd fault her competence. She was a founding elder, after all; he still had to save her some face.
The emperor's real beef was with Edna, and the entire military loved seeing it.
Caroline was used to it. She stood silently, waiting for the tirade to end. The committee chairman stole cautious glances at the emperor's face and asked timidly:
"Your Majesty, about the Royal Military Academy's semifinalists..."
After the preliminaries ended, rumors swirled about why the emperor had stormed off with one contestant in a rage. No one guessed Gavin was an omega— a mech pilot omega was simply too outlandish. They figured he was a strikingly handsome beta, maybe even the emperor's lover, which made those two alpha students look like romantic rivals in His Majesty's eyes.
If that was the case, whether the emperor would let the beta boy compete was anyone's guess.
"Is there a problem? Do you expect me to show favoritism?!"
Heinrich's voice rose, and every head snapped down.
"Selections based on preliminary scores! No one gets special treatment!"
The emperor swept out. The chairman murmured assent and immediately turned to organize the semifinals.
But Caroline stood stunned, slow to process it.
Neither she nor Edna had expected the emperor to let Gavin compete after marking him. She'd prepared pleas, excuses, even threats. Yet Heinrich had agreed so casually.
—He truly hadn't discovered Gavin's real identity, had he?
Amid her worries, Caroline felt a sliver of relief.
Compared to the four-day preliminaries, the semifinals were simpler.
The preliminaries tested mech skills; the semifinals tested the pilots' personal abilities. The arena was an abandoned base in the Vast Wasteland. Pilots and technicians would be airlifted separately to different entrances, enter in isolation, search for teammates while eliminating opponents from other teams as much as possible. Only upon reuniting could they access their mechs.
If one teammate was eliminated, the other lost eligibility too.
Mech pilots were elites among elites— one in tens of thousands. The weak link was usually the technicians, who relied on tech rather than physical prowess.
In this battle royale setup, pilots typically took the offensive to hunt enemy technicians, while technicians focused on evasion and self-preservation until their pilot found them.
A massive armed helicopter perched on the competition committee building's roof. Pilots and technicians lined up separately in the roaring wind, boarding in sequence.
Gavin's team had placed low in the preliminaries, so they were at the back of the technician queue. He stared silently at the backs of the heads ahead. As the line inched forward and his turn neared, Dean suddenly sprinted over from the pilots' group.
"Why are you still here?!"
He grabbed Gavin's shoulder, shouting over the howling wind.
"..."
Gavin replied calmly:
"Because we haven't been eliminated!"
Nearby technicians turned to stare. The gale whipped Dean's hair across his face, hiding his expression. After a moment, he asked coldly:
"—Is it him?"
The question came out of nowhere, but Gavin understood.
"Fight well!"
He clapped Dean's shoulder.
"Victory is yours alone!"
With that, he strode onto the chopper. Dean watched his figure, lips pressed into a sharp line.
After hours of flight, the helicopter reached the Vast Wasteland's southeast—a barren plain where the abandoned base lay buried in endless dunes.
It first dropped the pilots at the base's rear, then looped around for half an hour to deposit the technicians at various front entrances.
Drop order mattered: High-scoring preliminary technicians entered first, minimizing enemy encounters. They could pick prime hiding spots or set ambushes. Low scorers like Gavin went last, straight into danger.
The Interstellar Military Academy's technician was a lollipop-chomping slacker type who clearly backed up his vibe with real skill. Despite their team's bad prelim luck, everyone knew he was no pushover. Fellow technicians gave him a wide berth while queuing to rappel, terrified of drawing his ire and becoming the first elimination.
Accustomed to the avoidance, the lollipop tech packed his bag, clipped on his safety line at the hatch, and scanned around as he prepped to jump.
Nearby technicians whispered and edged back. Someone asked:
"How'd Interstellar Military Academy score so low?"
"Who knows? Royal didn't exactly crush it either."
"Rumor is they brawled on the last prelim day—mutual destruction!"
A well-informed one spun the tale vividly:
"One from Interstellar against two from Royal—impressive stuff. This year's champs might be..."
Murmurs of admiration rose, someone about to chime in with more gossip—when suddenly, the lollipop tech's gaze locked:
"—Hey!"
Gavin was fiddling with his arc blade, not even looking up.
"—Hey! Yo! Gavin!"
The whispers cut off. Gavin glanced over, eyebrow raised, to see the lollipop tech waving vigorously:
"I'm heading down!"
Gavin: "..."
"See you in the finals! Catch you later!"
Gavin's temple twitched. Under everyone's eyes, the lollipop tech leaped cleanly away.
Seconds of silence followed. Then, with varied expressions, all eyes turned to Gavin.