Getting a Technology System in Modern Day
chapter-771

“So, those were for replacement parts,” Aron observed, nodding as he assessed the now fully repaired mecha, which regarded him with an air of confidence, as if to say his previous efforts were futile. While he was slightly taken aback by the swift recovery, he had anticipated some form of countermeasure, knowing that, per the regulations, high-altitude drone attacks were prohibited. Thus, the components that had scattered at the start of the fight were likely either for surveillance or spare parts—though he considered the latter to be a low probability.

“Nova, I need your help or I’ll have to completely dismantle it to win this fight,” Aron called out, keeping his eyes locked on the mecha that had just glowed ominously before it slowly started hovering.

{Whenever you are ready, sir,} Nova responded eagerly, her excitement palpable.

“Okay, time for you to get to work.” He shifted into a spear-throwing stance, facing the mecha as it began to gain altitude rapidly. With a powerful motion, he hurled the sword toward the mecha, applying a flying rune to enhance its speed and to be able to control the trajectory.

Given the vast size difference, the mecha could only make a slight adjustment to evade the incoming projectile. The sword, however, found its mark, embedding itself deep within the mecha's chest.

.

The mecha pilot quickly initiated diagnostic tests to assess the impact of the sword embedded in the chest of her machine. Although she noted a few critical damages, they were manageable; rerouting those tasks to other systems would allow the mecha to share the burden effectively. Within moments, the mecha was back to full operational capacity.

Once stabilized, the massive machine ascended rapidly, gaining altitude until it reached a height of several kilometers. After hovering for a few seconds, it finally stopped, turning its gaze back down at Aron, who was now firmly planted on the ground, surveying the colossal figure above him.

“That was a foolish move. What are you going to do now that you don’t have a sword or any mana weapon?” the mecha pilot mused to herself as she scrutinized the zoomed-in image of Aron, who regarded her with a serious expression.

AAfter analyzing all of his previous fights, they discovered a pattern: Aron either relied on a magic weapon or needed a long preparation time before launching an attack with his sword. Although he had briefly flown during some battles, it was only for short periods, and he never repeated that feat consecutively. This led them to conclude that the ability was likely embedded in his armor. Just as energy weapons required time to cool down or recharge their capacitors, which rendered them temporarily unusable, it seemed Aron could not employ that ability in rapid succession.

After skiing herself and not finding any answer she decided to continue with the fight.

Shortly after, the mecha raised its right hand, now gripping the fully repaired great sword, and pointed it menacingly at Aron on the ground. However, it remained still, recharging its energy. Meanwhile, the mecha's left palm began unleashing a barrage of smaller energy projectiles, and the soles of its legs joined in, creating a relentless rain of energy weapons cascading toward Aron. He had no time to think, forced into a desperate dance of evasion to avoid being transformed into a honeycomb of craters.

For the next few minutes, Aron was caught in a relentless rhythm, dodging the barrage of small energy bullets without a moment's rest. Just as he began to find his footing in this chaotic dance, he lamost cursed at the sight of a massive shot fired from the cannon embedded in the great sword, clearly aimed at creating another devastating crater.

Yet, as if he was already anticipating this move he reacted to it swiftly. With swift actions, he propelled himself out of the blast radius just in time, narrowly avoiding the explosion that erupted on the ground behind him, sending debris and shockwaves into the air.

The mecha paused momentarily after unleashing its barrage, but it was clear that this lull wouldn’t last. Its right hand released the great sword, letting it fall to the ground, while two new swords flew toward it coming from the hovering machines. As both hands grasped the new weapons, they were aimed directly at Aron.

Just before Aron could regain his footing, one of the swords was fired, while the other was poised to strike at the location he was escaping toward. It was evident the mecha intended to capitalize on his reliance on his armor's short hovering ability, ready to unleash another attack the moment he landed and the ability enters a cooldown.

The Conclave viewers watched in anticipation as Aron found himself cornered, many of them murmuring that his time was up. They felt a wave of satisfaction, convinced that this was the moment their doubts about their own strength would be laid to rest.

Cheers began to ripple through the crowd as they noted the second great sword glowing ominously, its energy building as Aron finally halted a few kilometers away from the site of the previous explosion. The tension was palpable, with the audience brimming with excitement at the thought of witnessing Aron’s downfall and reaffirming their belief in their strength.

But just as the crowd was about to erupt in triumph over Aron’s impending defeat, an unexpected announcement echoed through the devices they were watching in: {Match over. Winner: Terran Empire, Aron Michael.}

Silence fell over the viewers, stunned by the revelation. The Conclave viewers, initially jubilant, now stood frozen in disbelief, their devices gripped tightly in their hands. A collective realization dawned upon them, and chaos ensued as they either leaped to their feet in outrage or nearly crushed their screens in frustration.

Thoughts raced through their minds: the fight had to be rigged. How could Aron, who seemed moments away from annihilation, now be declared the victor? To them, it was unfathomable that he could win while he was only evading attacks like a frightened animal fleeing from a pack of dogs.