Chapter 461: Chapter 449: Iron Knight Martial Arts Tournament

Allen had just returned from Hub City when he sensed something was amiss.

The peak information flow on the Spirit Communication Network was a full twelve times higher than normal.

It wasn’t a Beast Tide warning. Instead, it was... a kind of frenzied exchange of emotions and information. It was like a festival, yet more intense and feverish than any holiday.

Countless images, sounds, and transaction records surged through the Spirit Communication Network, all pointing to a single term.

"The First Aiselan Steel Knight Martial Arts Tournament."

’Interesting...’

’So there’s something new happening that I don’t know about.’

He deployed the Allen Network and quickly pieced together the events of the past month.

It turned out that while he had been buried in his research on artificial soul technology and matters concerning Hub City, King William of Aiselan had pulled off a maneuver that could only be described as a work of art.

Previously, after the Aiselans’ Steel Knights had participated in killing the King of Heart-eaters, the entire nation had been greatly inspired.

As a result, the industrial machine of the Aiselan Kingdom began operating at an unprecedented, full-throttle pace.

Countless artisans, engineers, and Spirit Mages threw themselves into the work with unparalleled enthusiasm.

King William had forcibly consolidated over seventy percent of the nation’s Alchemy Workshops and mineral resources. Building upon the foundation of the technical Crystal Stones Allen had left behind and the expertise accumulated through the "Wesley Refining Gold Award," they quickly mastered the "Zaku" technology.

In just a few months, twelve domestically produced "Zaku" mechs had rolled off the production line.

However, the latest statistics on King William’s desk were keeping him up at night.

The national treasury was empty.

To build these twelve "Zaku" mechs and three Mecha bases, Aiselan had depleted nearly a decade’s worth of financial reserves.

What was more critical was that the thousand-plus newly recruited reserve pilots could only conduct basic training in simulators.

A vast chasm known as "combat experience" separated the rookies trained in simulators from the blooded veterans.

And real combat meant casualties and battle damage to their precious Mecha.

But this kingdom, which had just tasted the sweet fruits of industrialization only to find its coffers drained by the construction of three major bases and twelve Mecha, could not afford a second wave of massive losses.

After much deliberation, William finally devised a solution that satisfied everyone.

He moved the training grounds into the national spotlight.

"The First Aiselan Steel Knight Martial Arts Tournament."

The rules were as follows: twelve standard-issue, domestically produced "Zaku" mechs provided by the government. They would carry no lethal weapons or ammunition, but would retain their Thermic Axes (set to a safe power level) and shields.

Contestants would pilot the Mecha, with winners advancing until the twelve strongest Knights were determined.

The entire event would be broadcast live to the entire nation via the Spirit Communication Network.

Led by the royal family, official betting pools were opened, allowing citizens to wager on their favorite contestants or teams. Thirty percent of all betting revenue would go directly into the national treasury.

When the news broke, all of Aiselan erupted.

The era of fearing the Heart Eaters had not yet faded into memory, but a new, more scorching emotion had already swept across the land, following in the footsteps of the Steel Giants.

It wasn’t blind worship of the strong, but a fanaticism born from a power that was "the Aiselans’ very own."

Miners on their breaks underground argued over whether the powerhouse from their district would advance. Impoverished nobles sold off family heirlooms just to place a bet, dreaming of a sudden reversal of fortune.

Retired veterans caressed their long-nicked swords, a light rekindling in their eyes. Their physical strength may have declined, but they understood combat—they could try piloting a Mecha.

The Spirit Communication Network became a public square for the celebration. Every training clip, every test collision, and every crude but authentic interview with the contestants was replayed and fervently discussed.

The twelve standard-issue "Zaku" mechs were even given their own resounding nicknames—"Berserker," "Mine Hammer," "Raging Tide," "Broken Horn"...

The betting funds flowed like a burst dam, pouring endlessly from every corner of the kingdom into the treasury’s accounts through Spirit Communication Terminals of all sizes.

Jarvis intercepted and reviewed the kingdom’s recent financial reports from the Ministry of Finance, discovering that the numbers were skyrocketing.

Allen looked at the steep curve on the report, then at the boiling data stream of public opinion on the network.

He had to admit, William had played this move beautifully, killing three birds with one stone.

He had packaged a brutal military selection process as a top-tier entertainment spectacle with nationwide participation.

He trained his soldiers, raised funds, and most importantly, forged an unparalleled sense of national unity.

Just as Allen was secretly observing all this, Jarvis pushed a high-priority message to him.

Sender: William Alexander.

"Lord Wesley:

The semifinals of the First Aiselan Steel Knight Martial Arts Tournament are underway, and the final four are about to be decided.

The finals are scheduled for three days from now at the martial arena of the ’Azure Sky Wings’ base, west of the Royal Capital.

This is not just a battle for a Knight’s honor, but a review and demonstration of Aiselan’s strength on its path to self-reliance.

The bones you gave us are now growing our own flesh, blood, and will.

You are the starting point of it all.

We sincerely invite you to attend in person to witness the ultimate showdown of steel and courage.

Respectfully, William Alexander."

Allen’s first instinct was to refuse.

He never participated in any meaningless social events. Compared to watching a mortal gladiatorial contest, he had more important research topics to attend to.

But the words "Zaku" and "Martial Arts Tournament" were like a key, unlocking a corner of his memories from a past life.

’Humans are always repeating the same mistakes.’

He was suddenly curious. Once these mortals truly grasped the violence that was "Mecha," what path would they choose to walk?

’Perhaps I can give them... a grander stage.’

The idea he had before was now becoming more refined in his mind.

"Jarvis."

"Reply to King William. Tell him I’ll be there."

...

The martial arena at the Azure Sky Wings base had been converted into a gigantic coliseum.

The circular stands rose tier after tier, and there was hardly an empty seat to be found.

Nobles from the Royal Capital, commoners, military officers, artisans... countless people had crammed their way in by purchasing tickets or using contribution points.

An even larger crowd was gathered in front of public Spirit Communication screens in towns and cities throughout the kingdom.

The atmosphere was frenetic and restless, a mix of the crowd’s clamor and a raw, undisguised craving for power.

The brutality of the semifinals far exceeded anyone’s imagination.

Every one of the four semifinalists had fought their way out of a pool of nearly ten thousand applicants.

Among them were a former captain of a border patrol, a Forging Master who came from a blacksmith shop, and even an old veteran with only the aptitude of a level-one Spirit Mage who had survived the last Beast Tide.

Their fights had no flashy moves, only the most simple and unadorned slashes, blocks, and rams, as well as the resilience to grit their teeth and get back up after every heavy blow.

In one match, two contestants piloting their "Zaku" mechs had each other’s joints locked. Just as the referee was about to declare a draw, one of them actually maneuvered their Mecha to ram its head viciously into the opponent’s cockpit!

A dull THUD resounded through the arena’s speakers.

The pilot of the opposing Mecha was knocked unconscious by the impact.

The victorious Mecha’s mono-eye was also covered in cracks and looked ready to fall off, but its pilot forced the Steel Giant to take the final few steps and raise its Thermic Axe, declaring victory.

The entire arena immediately erupted into a deafening roar.

The resonance of that ruthless, mutually-destructive spirit let them see the fearless soul of the Aiselan people, the sheer determination to treat steel as an extension of their own bodies.

Allen’s projected consciousness was hidden at the highest point of the VIP viewing platform, looking down on it all.

William sat on the throne not far below him, his face somewhat weary, but his eyes as sharp as an eagle’s.

He too was observing—observing the contestants’ potential, the public’s reaction, and the fluctuations in the betting numbers.

The semifinals finally concluded, and the final four were decided.

The championship match would take place in three days.

William rose to his feet and faced the broadcast cameras, his voice steady and full of power:

"In three days, the finals will begin! It will be a clash of tactics, the ultimate trial of iron will!"

"The final victor will receive the ’Knight’s Certificate,’ personally bestowed by the royal family, and their name will be inscribed in the national Hall of Heroes! But more importantly—"

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the arena and seemingly through the screens to look at all his people. "They will earn the right to pilot the ’Unicorn’! To become true Sky Knights!"

The word "Unicorn" was like a torch thrown into boiling oil, instantly setting everyone’s blood ablaze.

It was a symbol of something more advanced, more powerful—something that could soar through the heavens!

The cheers were like a tsunami, nearly blowing the roof off the base’s dome.

Allen’s projection gradually faded. He would take a seat in the stands to watch the finals in person.

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