“No one has the right to take away this little bit of freedom and this little bit of pursuit of happiness!” Li Qianxia, ​​who had been silent all along, spoke up.

Bea Triss looked at her.

“Beya,” Li Qianxia smiled brightly, her voice cheerful and lively, “We’ll be fine, don’t worry! Explosions and flames are like books in the palm of my brother’s hand; he can turn the pages however he wants.”

"Don't spread rumors, the explosion is not my responsibility."

After Li Changzhou left, Aznavur's smile vanished, replaced by a single expression. His still fierce face now looked at least seven or eight years younger.

“Lord Aznavur.” The woman in the passenger seat looked at Aznavur.

“Oh, sorry, the atmosphere was just right, so I just put it there without thinking.” Aznavur withdrew his hand.

The woman has shed the frivolousness of a young model; clothes that accentuate her figure are worn by her with a composed and sophisticated air.

"Lord Az, what do you think his purpose is? To use the explosion to fake the princess's death?"

"How should I know? I was so scared when I bumped into him that I almost peed my pants. I didn't care what his purpose was at all."

"Lord Az, the reason you did not gain His Majesty's favor and become the pilot of {Burning} is because you are too cowardly."

"Can we not bring up the past? What's the next step? Should we pretend to be serious and just drive?"

"No, please use all your strength to try and win first place."

"Are you sure I just squeezed your chest and not your head? Those three reactors really are going to explode!"

“Rather than worrying about a possible power plant explosion—” The woman’s gaze fell on Aznavul’s profile.

Aznavur instinctively reached out and touched his fingertips, finding them covered in bright red blood.

A thin wound, so thin that the person who had it didn't even feel it, was oozing beads of blood.

when?

Having always piloted his mech and never taken his gun seriously, Aznavur, who hadn't cared much about it being taken from him, now felt a chill creep up his spine as he looked at his own blood.

"Aznavul, did the Wind Chaser coerce you with force or use any illegal means?" came the official message.

Aznavur looked at the blood in his hands and was transported back to that day.

Among tens of thousands of elite mecha pilots trained from childhood, he and his sister entered the final selection with the same first place score.

The two entered His Majesty's palace, where they met the previous generation's {Burning} pilot, Jenkins, who had always been his idol.

As the two men saluted, Jenkins suddenly opened fire on them.

He instinctively dodged the shot, drew the only weapon he had on him at the time from his waist—a sharp but purely decorative sword—and scraped his cheek with blood.

The older sister remained kneeling on one knee, a bullet breaking a few strands of her brown hair, leaving black bullet marks on the red pavement.

“You, Aznavur, are not qualified,” Jenkins told him.

"Wen Caroline." Her Majesty Margaret III's majestic voice echoed from the high throne.

"exist!"

"I, Margaret III, appoint you as the new pilot of {Burning}. The Empire stands with you."

"I stand with the Empire!"

Something was dripping down his face. He instinctively touched it and realized he was injured.

Aznavul was puzzled. He was preparing for the final trial with great confidence, so why did he lose?

Just because you can tell whether a bullet is meant to kill them or not?

After arguing, fighting, and feeling down, one day when he returned, his sister told him an even more absurd and unacceptable reason—the part of the mecha that wasn't enough needed to be filled by people, and {Burning} needed a calm and composed pilot to unleash its volcanic power.

What needs to be done to make up for the lack of mechs?

Oh.

Aznavur rubbed the blood from his fingertips: "He told me I had to go all out to win first place. Does that count as a threat?"

"Uh, this..."

Aznavur turned off the radio and gripped the joystick with both hands.

"Sister, I still don't understand, do mechs really need humanity?"

boom!

The SUV shook violently.

"What's going on?" The woman gripped the handrail tightly.

Aznavul was also startled. He turned his head and saw that after the Wind Chaser recklessly rammed into him, it went to ram into Tyrant β.

Tyrant β was so frightened that he quickly dodged away.

The wind chasers seized the opportunity, and the hum of the three power furnaces grew increasingly sharp until it gradually faded into silence.

With a bang, the Wind Chaser instantly distanced itself from the two mechs.

If Aznavul didn't know who the pilot of the Wind Chaser was, he would have assumed it was just a fearless pilot, but he did know.

Seated on the throne is Beatrice, a princess as elegant and beautiful as Lake Lank.

She actually bumped into me on her own?

The Wind Chaser, with its elegant, wind-like appearance, is equipped with a power unit named after the Imperial mech {Moonlight}, which is also known for its tranquility, speed, and elegance.

The Wind Chaser in front of us still has an elegant exterior, but the internal power unit has been replaced with the {Judgment}, {Extinction}, and {Crimson Lotus} series.

A Phanteks that could explode at any moment.

You either slow down, remain silent, and let others bully you; or you step on the power pedal, charge recklessly, and perish together with others.

When the competition had just begun, Aznavur was surprised to learn that Bea Triss had given up the Speedster that the Empire had arranged in advance and chosen this mech instead. For a moment, he felt that it made perfect sense, that the person and the machine were a good match.

At that moment on the track, he even mistook the mecha for Beatrice herself.

“So that’s how it is.” Aznavur laughed.

He remembered the purpose of his sister's sudden appearance and forced order for him to participate in this mission—the Duchy's guardian mech, once captured, would be converted into an Imperial mech, and the new Imperial mech would require a new pilot.

The woman in the passenger seat was stunned. The smile on Aznavur's face was the smile he had before losing the competition {Burning Out}.

"Sister, I'm catching up right away, wait for me!"

Aznavur stepped on the power pedal.

The SUV suddenly crashed into Tyrant β, which was preparing to unleash its power.

The two giant mechs collided with a deafening roar, sparks flying everywhere.

They went back and forth, competing fiercely, and almost went off the track several times. Finally, Tyrant β gave up, slowed down, and got rid of this madman.

“You are not qualified.” Aznavur grinned, pulled the lever, stepped on the power unit, and the off-road vehicle roared off.