Counterfeit Hero

The main hall of the Seg Convention and Exhibition Center is a square shape. On all four sides, there are grandstands. At the top of the grandstands, near the fighting arena, are box seats connected by dozens of channels and retractable mechanical arms.

When Fatty leaped down from the box seat, at least a hundred thousand spectators watched him clearly.

He jumped from the box seat to the stand, and then from the stand to the competition field. The ten-meter drop seemed like nothing to him; the audience was left with mouths agape, stunned.

Is this fatty made of flesh or rubber?!

In the eyes of everyone, Fatty’s figure flashed like lightning or a meteoroid, rushing into the massive waiting area. Amidst that supersonic sprint completely at odds with his aerodynamically unfriendly physique, the entire main hall heard a voice.

Fatty bounced around with exuberance: ”Catch them alive, catch them alive!”

”Catch them alive?!” Upon hearing the voice, Anmon’s pupils sharply contracted. His gaze was like a needle, sharp and fierce.....

Two years ago, Utherred Anmon was a sergeant in the Royal Army of the Binart Empire. A Mechanical Hand with a hand speed exceeding thirty-eight moves per second, a promising armored platoon leader.

Anmon never attended Military Academy, nor did he have prestigious family connections. In the small town he was born in, his parents and ancestors led uneventful lives—tending to automated farms, personally checking soil crops, raising livestock, having drinks, playing cards, and idly chatting about household topics. Their lives were uneventful.

In this interstellar era, not everyone leads a life of unhindered strides through the stars. Not everyone lives in a city or in sky-high Space City, driving the latest Flying Cars and Mecha, frequenting high-end restaurants, nightclubs, going hunting, racing, or traveling interstellar.

Anmon had always aspired to the stars and mecha since childhood. He believed that was the dream he should pursue.

Although there were agricultural mechs on the farm, compared to those beautiful mechs on the album, the old, rusty, slow-moving agricultural mech painted green in the warehouse was downright trash. It could only work, unable to perform a 270-degree swinging leg or engage in three-stage acceleration.

Anmon did not want to spend his life in that stagnant small town like his parents. Not only did he not want that, but almost every child from the town didn’t want that.

Yet, few truly manage to leave the town and live that dream life.

The residents of the town are Akse people. In the Binart Empire, the Akse Clan, although of higher status than Kentai People, are still only a step higher. In the eyes of the Vibo Clan, a superior race, Kentai People should stay in rundown ghettos, and Akse people should stay in their rural farm towns, living as commoners.

Children educated in the Akse School, apart from a few geniuses, rarely cross the racial hierarchy pressure line and stand out. The Binart Empire has a stringent racial policy that will not allow an inferior person to enter mainstream society or the Akse Clan to join the upper echelons.

The only way for an Akse person to be exceptionally allowed into the upper society is to join the military, rise to a field-grade officer, and climb step by step!

Anmon was undoubtedly lucky. His exceptional talent in Mechanical Control allowed him to become a junior officer within his first year of service. Six months later, he was promoted from squad leader to platoon leader.

Within the Binart military system, Anmon’s promotion speed was simply astonishing.

This stemmed from his talent; when the Military Department learned of this Akse recruit, whose hand speed exceeded thirty-five moves per second in just one year of contact with mecha, becoming a Sixth-level Mecha Warrior, the Special Training Department reached out to him. His training program was added to the Special Training Department’s agenda. Being singled out by the Special Training Department was practically a ticket to success! In Anmon’s unit, he was the darling in the eyes of superiors and a genius to his peers.

Originally, everything was so good, but when January 5, 2063, arrived, everything was ruined. During a training incident that day, Anmon lost three fingers on his right hand.

For a Mech Knight, this was a fatal blow! And for an Akse person who had seen the beautiful, clear vision of the future, it was like the world collapsed. While Anmon lay in the hospital bed, he received a cold discharge notice from the Special Training Department and felt despair over his life.

If not for a stern-looking Colonel from Sobel, a secret research institute with powers more terrifying than the Royal Family’s direct guards, who handed Anmon a blank form, he might have spent his life in that remote small town, enduring a long, difficult existence.

Anmon did not waste the opportunity.

He firmly believed that God had opened a window for him after closing a bright door. He would not miss such an opportunity, and regardless of how many times he was faced with the choice, he would make the same decision without hesitation.