Half price?
I stared at the two words Jinx had sent to my screen, a cold sneer tugging at the corner of my mouth.
This woman had instincts sharper than the greediest vultures on Planet 7.
I had just proved my "commodity value" with a victory, and she couldn't wait to turn me into her long-term investment.
"Deal."
I typed out the reply, then transferred half of the prize money I'd just received without a moment's hesitation.
Money could always be earned again, but the lack of intel on the battlefield was fatal.
Jinx's efficiency was frighteningly high; almost the instant the transfer was complete, two detailed mecha spec sheets were sent over.
Preliminary Round 2: Opponent codename "Venom," Mecha "Viper," High-mobility skirmisher.
Round 3: Opponent codename "Hammerhead," Mecha "Skullcrusher," Heavy-armored brawler.
I glanced at the data, and instantly, countless ways to strip them for parts flashed through my mind.
But a more immediate problem lay before me.
Inside the cockpit, that red warning light was still flashing stubbornly, like a ticking time bomb.
[WARNING: Cooling system efficiency below 30%. Unable to support high-intensity combat.]
I slammed my fist onto the console in frustration.
The "Harvest-7" was a beast of an engine, but it ran too hot. Another overload charge like the last one, and it would melt into a pile of scrap metal.
I needed a new cooling pump.
One powerful enough to suppress the rage of this steel beast.
***
The second round began quickly.
The virtual arena environment was set to "Acid Swamp."
The air was thick with the pungent smell of sulfur; everywhere I looked, there were mud pits bubbling with green foam and withered trees. This terrain was an absolute nightmare for high-mobility mechas.
My opponent, "Venom," clearly understood this as well.
His "Viper" mecha was just like its name—pitch black with sleek lines. At this moment, it was perched cautiously on a relatively solid black rock, harassing me from a distance with an energy rifle.
He had obviously studied the footage of my last match.
"Junkman, your charge won't work on me!" His voice came over the public channel, carrying a hint of nervous bravado. "This swamp is your grave!"
He wanted to kite me.
He wanted to use his mecha's agility to bleed me dry in this mess.
What a naive thought.
I had no intention of charging at all.
I just watched him silently, my "Engineer's Eye" piercing through the surface of the swamp.I could see the varying acid concentrations beneath every patch of sludge, see where the most corrosive zones pooled, and even see inside the black rock beneath his feet—the stress fractures caused by geothermal heat.
Jinx's intel mentioned that "Viper," in pursuit of ultimate mobility, had sacrificed a significant amount of lower chassis armor. Its power conduits were practically bare.
A fatal weakness.
I moved.
The *Wrench*'s heavy steps sank into the sludge, splashing up plumes of acid that sizzled against my armor.
"Haha! You idiot! You're never gonna reach me!" Seeing my clumsy movements, "Viper" let out a mocking laugh.
I tuned him out. I simply followed the safe route mapped out in my mind, approaching him step by step, slow and steady.
He just stood there on the rock, firing at me like a fool, watching me struggle through the sludge.
He thought he was in control.
He didn't realize that I was the spider weaving the web.
I deliberately baited him in the direction I chose, forcing him to constantly adjust his position on that small rock to maintain his optimal firing angle.
One step, two steps...
Right there!
When his left foot landed exactly where I predicted, I stopped.
"What's wrong, Scrapper? Out of power?" he jeered.
I looked at him coldly and counted down in my head.
Three.
Two.
One.
*Crack—*
A crisp sound of fracturing rang out!
The black rock beneath "Viper"—specifically, that stress fracture I had calculated countless times—finally snapped under the heavy weight of his mech!
"What?!"
The "Viper" mech instantly lost its balance, one leg plunging unexpectedly into the acid pool below—the most corrosive one I had marked long ago!
*Sizzle—!!!*
The terrifying sound of corrosion filled the air as the green acid churned like boiling water, instantly devouring his fragile leg plating!
"Ah! My leg! My power systems!"
"Viper" let out a terrified scream.
Alarms blared wildly inside his cockpit. His exposed power conduits were instantly melted by the strong acid; short-circuiting sparks exploded along his leg, and the entire mech convulsed before collapsing into the sludge, paralyzed.
Match over.
I hadn't even fired a single shot.
***
Round three: The Asteroid Belt.
A zero-gravity environment where countless massive rocks floated slowly through the darkness of space.
My opponent, "Hammerhead," piloting his heavily armored "Skullcrusher," charged at me like a steel rhinoceros.
He was heavier than me, with thicker armor, and the power hammer in his hand looked like it could flatten a small mountain.He wanted to go head-to-head.
Another smartass.
I didn't take the bait. Instead, I immediately fired up my thrusters and hid behind a massive meteorite that looked like a small mountain.
"Coward! Is hiding all you can do?" Hammerhead roared over the public channel, brandishing his massive hammer as he gave chase.
I calmly calculated his speed, his angle of approach, and the mass and inertia of the giant meteorite between us.
My "Engineer's Eye" told me that the meteorite's center of gravity was exactly three meters in front of me.
Now!
The instant Hammerhead rounded the meteorite and was about to appear before me—
I anchored the *Wrench*'s feet firmly onto the surface of the meteorite, then redlined the engine output instantly!
*BOOM!*
I wasn't attacking him. I was... pushing the meteorite!
Like a tiny ant, the *Wrench* used every ounce of its strength to shove that mountain of a meteorite violently toward Hammerhead!
"What the hell?!"
In Hammerhead's field of vision, the entire world was filled by that suddenly accelerating slab of rock that blotted out the stars!
He wanted to dodge, but the poor maneuverability of a heavy-armor mech was his undoing!
*BOOM—!!!*
The *Skullcrusher* was hit head-on by this moving asteroid. Like a fly being swatted, his power hammer flew from his grip, and the entire mech was embedded deep into the meteorite's surface by the sheer kinetic energy, its armor shattering inch by inch!
It wasn't over yet!
Using the recoil from pushing the meteorite, I shot out like a cannonball, instantly circling behind him.
In the moment his system froze from the massive impact, I raised the giant industrial wrench on my right arm.
Aimed at the fragile cockpit interface exposed at the back of his neck—
And brought it down hard!
*Bang!*
A fatal strike!
Another victory without any suspense.
***
Three consecutive wins. All instant kills.
I had finally gone from being a "lucky scavenger" to a new, harsher label in the eyes of the crowd.
"The Junkyard Mad Dog."
That was what Jinx told me—the new nickname the underground bookies had given me.
They said my fighting style was pure chaos, like a rabid dog that bit to kill the moment it caught someone.
I didn't care.
I only cared about the rising balance of my winnings, and the increasingly strained groans of the *Wrench*.
Back in my shipping container workshop, I paced irritably around the *Wrench*.
The engine cover was open. The "Harvest-7" heart was still bleeding an insane amount of heat, and the crude cooling lines were glowing red, ready to burst at any moment.
I rapped the oil-slicked chassis with that old wrench stamped with the letter "G." The cold touch of the tool helped calm me down a little.
Beneath the grease, the letter "G" seemed to glint faintly in the dim light, but I wasn't in the mood to pay it any mind.
Those junk cooling pumps on the black market were useless. I needed something better—a monster of a part that was compatible with this old relic but could still withstand extreme overloads.
Money wasn't the problem. The problem was... you couldn't buy something like that even if you had the money.
My gaze drifted involuntarily toward the corner of the workshop.
There sat a locked, rusted metal chest.
It was... the only thing my parents left behind.
I hadn't opened it since I was old enough to remember. I always felt that until I could truly control my own destiny, I had no right to touch their past.
But now...
I stared hard at the chest, my heart hammering against my ribs, betraying my nerves.
I vaguely remembered people saying my father had been a brilliant mining mechanic.
Mining machinery... those massive pieces of equipment all required incredibly powerful cooling systems.
Perhaps... just perhaps, the thing I needed was inside that chest.
I took a deep breath; the scent of motor oil in the air seemed to thicken.
I needed to keep winning.
For that, I'd do whatever it takes.
I walked over to the dust-caked chest, crouched down, and reached out a slightly trembling hand.
It was time.
I used my prize money to buy data from Jinx on all potential opponents for the next round, and then focused all my attention on the metal chest before me—the chest that carried the weight of my entire past.