Chapter 624: The Unfortunate Miscalculation
An honest miscalculation.
Registering the new biomecha before handing it over to Duke Leander had actually been the suggestion of his wife, Duchess Amelia.
And while it was certainly a questionable move, it actually came from a sincere understanding of the man’s personality.
She knew her husband.
The moment he laid hands on that mecha, there would be no prying it from his grasp.
Therefore, how could he possibly tolerate seeing and touching it, then being told he would be unable to use it officially until after registration?
Wouldn’t the Duke pass out in anger?
Wouldn’t he throw a fit like a toddler teased too long?
He absolutely would.
So, everyone who heard Amelia’s suggestion agreed it was wiser to take care of the paperwork first. That way, when the Duke finally received his most-awaited gift, he could use it immediately without delay.
Or so they thought.
Because little did they know that even the "heavily" staggered mecha registrations they had been trying to slip through had already attracted far too much attention.
In fairness to the people of the duchy, they had gone to extreme lengths to hide it.
Some even dueled each other just to earn the right to register first—or at least earlier than the next poor soul.
They staggered their visits, sneaking into the office at odd hours, or even filing registrations at satellite branches on other planets just to avoid drawing suspicion at military headquarters.
But honestly, how often did anyone see a person walk into the registration office with a custom S-grade mecha?
S-grade pilots, yes. There were several across the Empire. And most of them were current prominent people or those whom the most influential families had already scouted and prepared for greatness. But S-grade mechas?
That was another story entirely.
First, they were ruinously expensive.
Second, even with money, there was no guarantee a master mechanic would accept a commission.
And third? The process could take years, and even then, the final result might not reach S-grade at all. More often than not, someone’s dream project wound up a still-impressive, but disappointing, A-grade.
Because of this difficulty, most children of the elite came into the world with such preparation already in mind. Upon greeting the world, newborns were assessed for their spiritual aptitude. And if the child luckily tested into the S-rank category, most families would rejoice... before immediately diving into the grueling search for a master mechanic willing to accept their mecha commissions.
Deals would be struck before the child could even walk.
Luca had been completely floored by this revelation. Shocked, wide-eyed, utterly bewildered.
It was Master Quinn who had explained it to him, saying that the only reason the House of Kyros hadn’t needed to resort to such desperate measures was because his parents went to absurd lengths to ensure their son would never be without a mecha.
How absurd?
They went as far as to secure someone like him as a vassal.
Not merely employed. Not casually contracted. But a vassal of the duchy.
That was how far Duke Leander and Duchess Amelia had been willing to go for their child. Of course, they hadn’t expected to be blindsided by something even more unexpected, such as the young lord succumbing to an unknown affliction.
But even after it had been solved, they still wouldn’t have needed him to make a mecha for Luca. Because even Master Quinn, a famed veteran mechanic, now had to admit the truth: when it came to building mechas, he could no longer match the returning young lord.
Yes, his pride was initially hurt. But as a mechanic, he’d also learned far more than he could ever have imagined from the generous young lord. And while he couldn’t match him, he was sure that when pitted against the other masters of his generation, he would come out on top.
Now that was definite!
But obviously, other families weren’t going to have this kind of solution to such a dilemma. After all, how many pilots would be born with the capacity to also excel as a genius mechanic who would solve the issue just by making their own mechas in such a short time?
So most would still start preparing years in advance. And if not through early commissions, families would still hire entire teams to tackle the monumental task. And if nothing worked, they would just let their children inherit an S-grade mecha passed down through the family.
And yet here they were.
What, then, were Luca’s so-called "basic" biomechas?
While technically able to be piloted by both A and S-rank pilots, the biomecha—considering its materials, structure, and methods of construction—was undeniably an S-grade. In fact, calling it merely S-grade felt like an insult, an underestimation of the highest order.
Which was why only the first registrations slipped by without much fuss.
Second Lieutenant Anya Merren, being the first recipient of a biomecha, had an easier time. Nobody questioned her too deeply, aside from receiving gracious praise. The Duchess Amelia, too, had been expected to wield an extraordinary mecha, so her registration barely raised eyebrows and instead just garnered nods of approval and understanding.
They were congratulated, admired, even whispered about, but their machines were inspected with the usual diligence and then waved through.
That is, until more began to appear.
One. Two. Five. Eight.
Suddenly, sixteen biomechas had been registered under the same Mechanic ID.
And the forums exploded.
Mecha fanatics who usually smelled new elite registrations like sharks scenting blood could hardly contain themselves. They were practically vibrating out of their chairs.
Who was behind this flood?
And worse—why were all the profiles hidden?!
Such elite machines, each one a marvel, and they didn’t even want to be entered into the popularity contests? Not even a little flex? Not even a chance at glory on the leaderboards?
The audacity!
The despair!
Every day, posts multiplied. Threads stacked into chaos. Fans were distressed, but not nearly as distressed as the employees at the registration centers.
Because once the data was entered into the system, it was locked. Sealed. Even the staff had no access unless an official summons was made. And it wasn’t like they could interrogate the soldiers. Every time they tried, the soldiers would only smile politely and wait.
Wait! They would just wait with their unreadable faces and terrifying patience!
The staff wanted to know, too, alright?! They were curious! They were practically dying of curiosity!
Where were these coming from? Who was producing them? Why couldn’t the universe just hand them an answer?
But maybe—just maybe—if they had been equally curious about cadet mechas, they would have noticed another oddity. A certain mecha registered months ago. A cadet’s machine. Public as can be.
And yet, its results couldn’t even be read.
But no one looked.
Such was the fate of cadet registrations, filed away as mere formalities, overlooked and ignored. Then again, there was the guardian mecha whose registration was kept as an imperial secret.
But had they been able to check those, then maybe, just maybe, Duke Leander’s mecha would not have been sequestered for an intense evaluation.
And maybe he wouldn’t have been found wanting to storm the capital to claim what was rightfully his.
Though thank goodness Luca didn’t send over the weapon he had just created. Because then, what would happen if they decided to return the mecha next year?