Conquering the Stars and My Haters’ Hearts - Chapter 2

“Autumn Waters” was a military academy student. He only played this game because his school required it. While his mental strength and skills were quite respectable, he had been plagued by a string of “pig teammates” in ranked matches lately, leaving him simmering with frustration.

Hiding behind a rock face, Autumn Waters spotted the silhouette of an enemy mecha. He chose to ignore it.

He had run out of patience for coaching a novice like Xie Anning. He figured it was better for the rookie to die quickly; he’d have a better chance fighting alone than being dragged down by a liability.

Meanwhile, Anning—still busy testing the limits of his mental perception—suddenly sensed a massive surge of energy locked onto his position. Acting on instinct, he forced the mecha to dodge. Because he was still unfamiliar with the controls, the movement was awkward and strained, but it was more than enough to evade the incoming laser bolt.

Though holographic gaming was a world away from the “keyboard and mouse” era, Anning’s adaptation speed was frightening. Within minutes, his movements had smoothed out significantly, though to a casual observer, the improvement was subtle.

To the spectators, it looked like the rookie had just stumbled into a stroke of “dog-shit luck”—a random lurch to the side that miraculously, and impossibly, saved him from a direct hit.

Autumn Waters cursed that same luck under his breath. But when he looked up and saw the IDs of the approaching enemies, his face went pale. “Ferdinand? Why is he here?”

The stream chat exploded. Seeing that name, viewers immediately started pinging friends. Within seconds, the audience count surged past a thousand.

Ferdinand was a rising star in the gaming world. Rumor had it he was the direct heir of a high noble house with A or even A+ rank mental strength. He was notoriously arrogant, even using his real name as his handle.

Despite his vanity, his strength was undeniable. He was known for crushing opponents within ten minutes, never leaving them a shred of dignity. No one who crossed his path had ever successfully mounted a counterattack.

He’s a famous high-tier player. How did a bottom-tier rookie like this streamer get matched against him?

The thought crossed the minds of both the viewers and Autumn Waters. But the confusion quickly turned to excitement. Ferdinand never streamed; the only way to see him play was through recorded replays. This was a rare chance to see him live.

The viewer count continued to climb, though they were all there to watch Ferdinand’s “heroic” performance.

Inside his cockpit, Ferdinand looked at his two opponents, a look of pure disappointment crossing his handsome face. “Not a single one worth looking at. How boring. I need to rank up faster.”

Ferdinand didn’t usually play in Sector 53; he was only here to carry someone at his mother’s request. To him, the outcome was already decided. The only question was how many minutes it would take to wipe them out.

Specifically, that one in the starter mecha—a visible amateur. He felt insulted just sharing a map with such a scrub.

Ferdinand’s expression turned cold. With a single thought, his mecha’s weapons locked onto Xie Anning, calculated to box him in from every possible escape route. This time, there would be no room for luck.

“Trouble.” Anning muttered. He could feel the overwhelming sense of crisis closing in from all directions. Even without knowing who the opponent was, he knew he was facing a predator.

The chat went wild. They knew Anning’s digital career was about to be cut short. An attack this ruthless could cause mental feedback in the real world, potentially leaving a player unable to log in for days.

But to them, he was just a comedy streamer. Being “graced” by Ferdinand’s ultimate attack was the highest honor he could hope for. The screen was flooded with Ferdinand’s name, as if it were his own fan club.

“Then again, is this an opportunity?”

Anning whispered to himself. Following the path of least resistance sensed by his mental intuition, he threw his mecha forward into a desperate lunge.

Seeing the sheer power of the opponent, Autumn Waters instinctively wanted to retreat but facing such an expert was a rare training opportunity, even if defeat was certain.

A competitive fire ignited in him. For the first time, he opened the team channel to coordinate with Anning, only to see Ferdinand’s barrage erupt and Anning’s mecha “stupidly” diving right into the heart of the blast.

“Is this guy suicidal?” Autumn Waters wanted to scream. He figured the rookie had been scared senseless and decided to end the match quickly to stop the embarrassment.

The viewers had the same reaction. They began flaming Anning for “feeding.” They wanted to see Ferdinand showcase high-level technique, not a point-blank execution of a target that wasn’t even trying!

Autumn Waters gritted his teeth and boosted forward. He hoped to use the split-second distraction of Anning’s “death” to land a hit on Ferdinand, at least to make the loss less humiliating.

But in the next second, he froze in shock.

The starter mecha, which should have been vaporized by the laser cannons, was still standing. With a sliver of health remaining, it scrambled up from the ground and, using the momentum of the blast, lunged directly at Ferdinand’s throat.

The livestream chat lost its collective mind.

[GamerX]: What happened? Another fluke?!

[TechPie]: Suriving that with a sliver of HP? His luck is god-tier!

[LuckIsSkill]: Forget comedy, he should stream gacha pulls. He’d have a better future in gambling than mecha piloting.

Ferdinand, however, frowned. He had underestimated his opponent, but his attack had been designed to cover almost every escape. To identify the single “weak point” with the lowest damage output in that chaos required the instincts of a master. But this guy is a scrub, isn’t he?

Before he could think further, Anning was in his face.

[Viewer99]: Say what you want about his skill, the streamer has balls.

[Hater101]: You mean the courage to die? Please. I want to see him get dismantled.

[ProPlayer]: If it were me, I’d have self-destructed rather than face this humiliation.

Everyone expected a quick end. After all, this was a rookie who couldn’t even walk straight minutes ago. How could he hurt Ferdinand?

Yet, a few eagle-eyed viewers noticed something: Anning’s movements were no longer clunky. They were becoming fluid, almost graceful—a complete departure from his earlier bumbling.

Inside the cockpit, Anning’s world had narrowed down to his opponent. He wasn’t thinking about the mission or the popularity points anymore. His chest felt hot.

He simply wanted to win. He could feel that this high-intensity combat was acting as a catalyst, slowly awakening the S-rank mental strength dormant in his mind.

Under the gaze of thousands, the two mechas clashed. The starter model was fragile and lacked weapons, yet it managed to weave through Ferdinand’s strikes time and time again.

Autumn Waters watched, dumbfounded. This “rookie” was defying every expectation. He felt a pang of shame for his earlier behavior. This teammate might have been clumsy, but his focus was terrifying. He possessed a brand of raw courage that even Autumn Waters, a military student, lacked.

Nearby, Autumn Waters and the other opponent began their own skirmish, but both were distracted, their eyes constantly drifting toward the impossible duel unfolding between the master and the “trash.”

But a starter mecha is still a starter mecha, and Ferdinand was no amateur. Within a dozen seconds, the tide turned. Xie Anning fell into a defensive slump, struggling to parry the relentless assault. A direct hit to his mecha’s leg joint sent a jar of feedback through the neural link, causing his movements to stutter.

Yet, he didn’t back down.

In the streaming room, donations began to pop up. Though the majority of the audience had come for Ferdinand, they were blindsided by Anning’s tenacity. His sheer grit was starting to set their blood on fire.

[SteelSoul]: The streamer is giving it his all, but this is a guaranteed loss.

[NovaWatcher]: Exactly. Lord Ferdinand haven’t even touched his Mental Strength attacks yet. That’s where the real damage is.

[MechaSage]: At the end of the day, piloting is all about Mental Strength. It’s impressive enough that a rookie has held out this long.

The sentiment was unanimous. It was common knowledge that the higher your Mental Strength, the more seamless the synchronization; the mecha essentially becomes an extension of your own body. But the true terror of high-rank Mental Strength lay in the ability to launch direct psychic strikes. If the gap between two players was too wide, the weaker party could suffer genuine neurological damage.

Ferdinand, with his A-rank potential, was virtually untouchable in this tier—especially by a nameless newcomer.

Defeat was only a matter of time.

In the team channel, Autumn Waters couldn’t help but chime in. “Look, I know you’ve worked hard, but there’s a limit to what you can do. You can’t contend with Ferdinand, if he switches to a Mental Strike, your mind might actually snap.”

“Hm?” Anning’s voice came through the comms. It was flat, eerily calm. “Using Mental Strength to pilot the mecha? That’s a thing?”

He sounded like he’d just had a lightbulb moment.

Autumn Waters: “…”

What?! This guy doesn’t even know what Mental Synchronization is?! Is he seriously a primary schooler?!

Then, Autumn Waters watched in pure disbelief as the battered starter mecha—which looked like it was on its last legs suddenly surged with life. It was as if the previous struggle had been an act.

Autumn Waters felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. Is this guy even human? Doing this well on his first try without even using Mental Strength, is he some genius heir sneaking online behind his family’s back?

Ferdinand, meanwhile, was losing his patience. To him, being held up by a rookie was an insult. He wanted this over with. He didn’t have any more time to waste on a “persistent pest.”

“You’ve done your best,” Ferdinand’s voice rang out coldly over the public match channel. “But the weak are the weak. Blame your own pathetic Mental Strength for this loss.”

With that cold dismissal, Ferdinand unleashed his Mental Strength, a psychic wave surging toward the starter mecha like an invisible tide.