Chapter 111: PvP Match

Neville felt like punching someone.

Who approved of entering names on voice command? What if there’s an accent? Could they be completely sure of the spelling? Even he couldn’t spell Irish names right!

The waiting area morphed into existence around him. Neville blinked as his eyes adjusted to the metallic gray space with several seats and a big screen like those in the cinema.

Other players stood scattered across the room, all wearing identical helmets that obscured their faces. Their avatars looked generic, but their gamer tags floated above their heads in various colors and shimmered with their titles. Honestly, they look slightly like Power Rangers.

They were all staring at him.

More specifically, they were staring at his gamer tag, which glowed green.

One of them couldn’t help but snort. It was the one with a bulky avatar with the tag [IronFistforYou] hovering in aggressive red letters. The sound echoed in the virtual space with perfect clarity.

The player beside [IronFistforYou], tagged as [SamuraiEXtream], pointed at Neville and laughed with open disdain.

"Fresh meat? Seriously?"

Another player, this one shorter with a purple tag reading [MechWarrior99], asked the others in genuine confusion. "We still have noobs at this time of year? I thought registration closed months ago?"

"Guess the school’s getting desperate," [IronFistforYou] muttered, loud enough for everyone near him to hear.

[IronFistforYou] approached Neville from behind, his heavy footsteps were deliberate and theatrical. Then he reached out and patted Neville condescendingly on the shoulder. The contact was registered by the game as a slight pressure through the haptic feedback.

"Try not to die in the first thirty seconds, fresh meat. It’s embarrassing for everyone involved." [IronFistforYou] advised.

Neville bristled away from the pat in silence, his jaw tightening. He had dealt with workplace rumors and trash talks in PC Bangs before. These ’gaming bullies’ were amateurs compared to those people.

Neville walked past [IronFistforYou] to the farthest seat from the crowd and settled in to wait. The helmet’s audio feed carried their voices; he could still hear them talking about him.

"Ten-star coins says he quits after the first match," [MechWarrior99] said.

"Raise to 100," [SamuraiEXtream] replied. "I say he won’t even finish the first match. Ragequits halfway through."

"You’re both wrong," a female voice chimed in—[StarGunner07], her tag a brilliant orange. "He’ll finish the match, lose spectacularly, then come back tomorrow to lose again. Pride’s a hell of a drug."

Laughter rippled through the group.

Neville kept his gaze fixed on the wall, his fingers drumming against his thigh. The system had recommended mecha combat training to improve his stress levels during this period of time. But he hadn’t expected this place to be quite...toxic. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Honestly, he didn’t mind. But he had to admit that listening to these people was a little annoying and draining.

MATCH FOUND

MODE: PvP

OPPONENT: [StormRaider] - RANK: SILVER III

ARENA: ASTEROID FIELD DELTA

Neville was instantly transported. The waiting area dissolved into a cold vacuum of space. His basic mecha cockpit materialized around him. It was the standard-issue practice model with plain gray plating and minimal armaments.

The cockpit interface lit up, displaying shields at 100%, energy at full, and his three available weapons: a standard light saber sword, a light pulse gun, and a triple-shot projectile laser missile mounted on both of his shoulders.

Across the battlefield, roughly three hundred meters away, his opponent’s mecha gleamed with custom paint. It had electric blue with lightning bolt decals running down both arms.

Even from this distance, Neville could read [StormRaider]’s body language in how the mecha stood. Weight shifted to one hip, arms crossed, radiating annoyance. [StormRaider] must have been furious.

The matchmaking system forced higher-ranked players to occasionally fight lower-ranked ones to prevent queue times from getting too long, but it was considered a waste of time for the skilled players.

There’s no glory in crushing a noob, after all.

A countdown appeared: 3... 2... 1... FIGHT!

[StormRaider] didn’t move.

[StormRaider]’s mecha just stood there, arms still crossed, clearly expecting Neville to charge forward in a panic like most new players did.

It was a calculated insult. To say that the other wouldn’t even bother to take a fighting stance because the opponent wasn’t worth the effort.

Neville was also annoyed, but he channeled it into focus. While [StormRaider] just stood there, he took the time to analyze the battlefield.

They were surrounded by asteroids of varying sizes, from small boulders to massive chunks of rock. There were a few that were large enough to hide the entire body of his mecha behind. The asteroids drifted in lazy orbits, their movements predictable enough to track but complex enough to provide dynamic cover.

He noted sight lines and choke points where the number of asteroids increased. The potential ambush locations where he could use the terrain to his advantage.

His gaming experience might be completely different from the Interstellar era’s standards, but tactical thinking was universal. Cover was cover, whether it was a stone wall in a medieval fantasy game or an asteroid in a mecha combat simulator.

[Host, enemy mecha approaching from three o’clock!]

Shelly’s warning came with the helpful red arrow in his HUD1.

[StormRaider] had apparently gotten bored with waiting and was boosting toward him at high speed. He drew his plasma sword, and it was glowing in an ominous blue hue. The classic rushing tactic—close the distance, overwhelm with superior skill, end the fight quickly.

Instead of panicking or trying to meet the charge head-on, Neville smoothly pivoted his mecha to the left and boosted behind a nearby asteroid. He used the massive rock to break the line of sight.

The motion felt natural, almost instinctive, as his muscle memory translated into his mecha’s motion in real time. He heard the frustrated growl through the open combat channel.

[StormRaider] adjusted its trajectory, sweeping wide around the asteroid to reacquire its target. But Neville was already moving, circling around the opposite side of the asteroid. He kept his thrusters at minimal output to reduce noise and his heat signature as he positioned himself at a sharp angle where the asteroid’s bulk would mask his approach.

Heads-Up Display, which refers to the graphical interface elements on the screen that display crucial information directly to the player without them having to look away from the main view.