This was, of course, a paid event. The fee was small, but it kept the game company in business. Battles at the General level often attracted millions of viewers, though players of that rank rarely clashed lightly. When they did, they could choose to block spectators—a privilege reserved for the elite.
Li Feng's hands flew across the controls with uncanny speed. Today felt different. The usual lag and stiffness in his movements had vanished, replaced by a seamless flow. Is this an illusion? he wondered, caught off guard by the sensation.
Boom. The fight began. His opponent's Kanuo III, light and agile, sliced through the desert terrain effortlessly. The BS001, by contrast, was a lumbering beast, ill-suited to this environment. Blood Asura, the enemy pilot, wasted no time charging in, wielding an alpha alloy blade that glinted menacingly under the sun. It was clear he intended to take out his frustrations on Li Feng—the so-called "celebrity" known for being an easy target.
Spectators could see Blood Asura was no novice. His Kanuo III had been modified for speed, optimized for desert combat. His movements were fluid and professional, a stark contrast to Li Feng's clunky BS001. To the onlookers, it seemed like the fight would end in a single round, and some were already losing interest.
The BS001 stood motionless, half-buried in the sand. Li Feng rarely fought in deserts—his mech was too heavy, too slow. Most challengers gave him a fair handicap to keep things interesting, but not this time. He hadn't noticed until it was too late: the terrain was a trap, and the modified Kanuo III was perfectly suited to exploit it. Blood Asura had likely crushed plenty of others with this exact strategy.
The enemy closed in fast—faster than any standard Kanuo III. The alpha alloy blade thrust toward the BS001's waist, a well-known weak point in the outdated model. It was a ruthless move. Some viewers turned away in disgust. Shameless, they thought. No honor in that.
Despite his countless losses, Li Feng had earned respect. He never raged or gave up, always fighting with dignity, even against the odds. Opponents and fans alike admired that. But today, even he couldn't ignore the unfairness. Anger surged within him. His hands moved faster than ever, leaving faint afterimages on the controls.
The blade was moments from striking when the impossible unfolded. The sluggish BS001 sprang to life. Its titanium knife flashed as the mech launched into a triple spin, tilting at a precise angle of over 30 degrees. In one fluid motion, it parried the alpha blade, jammed the enemy's laser rifle, and delivered a crushing kick to the Kanuo III's leg. With the force of the BS001's weight behind it, the leg snapped instantly. Before anyone could blink, the titanium knife slashed through the Kanuo III's neck.
Whoosh.
The severed metal head soared into the air, sparks bursting from the jagged stump. Then came the explosion.
The fewer than one hundred spectators still watching were stunned. They'd stayed out of reluctance to waste their one-credit fee, but what they'd just seen defied belief.
Thomas Spin Kill.
Players rubbed their eyes and rewound the footage. A perfect Thomas Spin Kill. Even military pros rarely pulled it off in basic mechs. Yet here was Li Feng—Blade Warrior, the hundred-loss legend—executing it flawlessly in an ancient BS001.
Logging off, Li Feng's heart raced. He'd won—his first victory. But instead of elation, confusion gripped him. That move had been pure instinct, a reflex he hadn't planned. With a standard mech, he'd give himself a 70% chance of success. In real combat? Less. In a BS001? It was unthinkable.
He rushed to the body scanner, mind spinning. Did that meteor strike change me somehow?
(Note: The Thomas Spin Kill was devised by Thomas, an ace pilot from the Evantian NUP. It's a notoriously difficult maneuver in basic mechs, but in elite models, it's a devastating blend of offense and defense.)
Meanwhile, the Cosmic War forums erupted. A bold headline blazed across the site: BS001's Perfect Thomas Spin Kill, complete with the replay video.
The post skyrocketed to hundreds of thousands of views in moments, hitting ten million within ten minutes. Veterans, soldiers, casual players—everyone clicked. And everyone shared the same reaction: Unbelievable.
Blade Warrior, the Hundred-Loss Soldier, was suddenly a name buzzing alongside the Generals.
Those who'd watched the match live were over the moon. One credit for a front-row seat to a historic moment—performed in a clunky BS001, no less? A steal.
But the high-ranking players weren't celebrating. They studied the replay with furrowed brows, slowing it down frame by frame. It was impeccable—textbook perfection. No one in the NUP or USE would risk attempting it in a BS001. Yes, the game wasn't real combat, but the physics aligned. If it worked here, it could work in reality. And Li Feng had made it look effortless.
Who is Blade Warrior, really?