While it felt good giving Floyd a ntal smack, Ves knew he provoked an angry bear. If the stakes weren’t so high, he’d rather take a step back. Now, his pressure increased. He was not content to take second place this ti. He had to dazzle the audience and srize at least one of the masters present.
"The road ahead has just begun. If I take Floyd as a standard, then I will only encounter tougher opponents."
Plenty of contestants wanted to dispute the results. Most of them mainly blad the AI pilots for failing to unearth their ch’s potential. Most of the complaints ca from the fliers.
"You cheated! There’s no way a nobody like you can beat my aweso ch!"
Sadly for Floyd, no one cared about his accusations. While a student supervisor arrived to address his results, he had no leeway in giving the alumni from Leemar a helping hand.
"According to the logs, both chs are designed within acceptable boundaries. chanically, there’s nothing fishy there, even if both of you made so unconventional choices."
"What about my crappy AI pilot? I obviously got a retard for a pilot!"
The supervisor shook his head. "Every ch in every simulation started with the sa AI pilot. They all have the sa capacity for learning and adaptation. According to the logs, the AI pilot for your centaur ch peaked midway. It couldn’t figure out new strategies. As for your opponent’s dium ch, its AI pilot constantly unearthed new things to try."
In other words, one ch provided slightly more options than the other ch. There was a limit how diverse a pilot could utilize the tools at hand. The main factor that limited the centaur was its crippling slow speed. The lack of speed narrowed its options to purely offensive and defensive stances.
As for the design submitted by Ves, the AI pilot was able to take the initiative in most battles due to its freedom of movent. It could charge straight ahead or it could take it slow by flanking its opponent. This was actually the main reason why heavy chs never achieved dominance. Without sufficient mobility, a ch was nothing different than a sitting duck.
After verifying the validity of the results, the supervisor took the devastated Floyd away. Sadly, so of the losers kept making a fuss, though they were easily taken care off with a few stun bolts. Ves couldn’t believe how many designers broke down and acted like babies.
"I always thought it took discipline and constant study to beco a ch designer. I have no idea how these rich kids managed to graduate with a degree in ch design."
"Pff. It’s genetics man." A fellow walker supplied. "Everyone knows their parents constantly injected their kids with genetic boosts. They take 1 hour to learn a theory that regular people like us take a day to understand. There’s different injections available that can strengthen your muscles, make you smarter or even remove the need for sleep."
That was fairly new to Ves. "I thought those kinds of things are illegal or don’t even exist."
"To commoners, they might as well be fairy tales. It’s a conspiracy the upper echelon is happy to keep under wraps. They even banded together in order to suppress any credible ntion about these boosts. If you don’t believe , then try and uploading a post. I can guarantee you’ll be arrested quicker than you can take a leak."
Ves almost didn’t believe it if not for one thing. Had he already taken so ’injections’ himself? When he recalled the few tis he ingested the System’s attribute candies, he asurably grew stronger in a couple of areas. Was the System ssing with his genes each ti he ate a candy?
The news shook his view of how the galaxy worked. He always treated those rumors about genetic tampering as air, but perhaps he underestimated the progress humanity made over the years in terms of human genetics.
"Do you have any proof?"
"Pff! Of course not! I’d be dead if I had anything. I’ve only been able to learn a bit because I have a moneybags for a friend."
As today’s program ca to an end, everyone slowly left the parade ground. As Ves tried to keep an eye out on Dietrich and his cat, he reconsidered the matter of upgrading his attributes. Now that he developed so decent skills, perhaps it was ti to upgrade his intelligence.
"If I had another windfall of DP, I can afford to splurge on a couple of intelligence candies."
The price of a candy corresponded with the height of his current attributes.
Any attribute between 1.0 and 2.0 could be upgraded by buying a candy worth 1,000 tis the desired height. For example, with his current intelligence of 1.2, if he wanted to raise it to 1.3, he’d have to spend 1,200 DP.
If he wanted to raise his intelligence to 2.0, he’d have to spend a cumulative amount of 13200 DP in total.
After reaching the threshold of 2.0, the price of the attribute candies multiplied by 10,000, aning that he’d have to spend 21,000 DP to upgrade his intelligence to 2.1.
The price of upgrading an attribute grew to stupendous heights the more it growed. At his current level, Ves had no way of earning enough DP to upgrade his intelligence to a aningful level where it could make a difference.
That was why up to now, he always emphasized the acquisition of skills. They provided concrete benefits at reasonable costs. Ves always planned to upgrade his intelligence and perhaps so other attributes in the long term. Despite his envy, he maintained his current stance. At most, he’d upgrade his intelligence by a couple of points so that he wouldn’t co across as stupid when faced with a master.
Ves sighed when he thought about his empty DP reserve. All of his plans ant nothing if he didn’t gain another source of DP. With both his virtual and real universe sales stalling, he had no way of buying anything anything from the System to help him out in the competition. He had to rely on himself to reach the top.
He only beca a little disappointed when the ch Designer System beca less unique. The rich and powerful had their own ways of getting ahead even without a supposed reality-altering software program.
Ves finally found Dietrich near the exit. The pilot yawned as he greeted his friend.
"Man, this is the most boring competition I’ve ever watched. There’s nothing exciting about watching thousands of nerds geeking out over a couple of stupid exams. The only part that interested was the duels, but it finished way too quickly for to enjoy."
"Haha, it might not be very exciting for you, but for ch designers like , it’s been a thrill."
"Are you sure you ch designers are still human? I’m not surprised if you’ve all been replaced by aliens."
Without a technical background, pilots like Dietrich could never appreciate these kinds of events. Ves enjoyed the opportunity to cash against his peers. Watching his skills grow better from a boring Status was much less tangible than winning an actual match against a living person. It made all of his improvents look real.
Different from before, the LIT erected temporary housing for the remaining visitors. Each modular apartnt ca with all of the basic necessities, and were fairly secure as well. The temporary housing area beca more crowded with the heavy security presence. In order to prevent improper actions such as bribery or sabotage, the entire place turned stiflingly safe.
Dietrich whistled in appreciation when he saw how many chs patrolled the periter. "Leemar sure takes a lot of effort to secure a simple housing area."
"I’m glad they take our security seriously. I’ve already offended one bastard from the Coalition. There’s no telling what he’ll do behind my back."
As Dietrich lacked any understanding of ch design, he wasn’t really able to follow the ch duel in the second round. When Ves explained how he triumphed over his opponent, he snorted.
"Bah, what a git. This guy refuses to admit his loss because he’s not as good as you. That should be the end of the matter."
Ves truly hoped he had no more encounters with Floyd, but he vaguely suspected he might not be so forgiving.
After an uneventful night, the contestants returned to the fields. Out of the fifty thousand participants, only five thousand remained. The final round of the qualifiers aid to cut down their numbers to a asly five hundred. The attrition was horrible but necessary in order to make the main event presentable.
Just like last ti, Professor Marshall addressed the crowd. "Today is the day where we will decide the final 500. Who among you will be lucky enough to perform in front of a crowd of the most eminent figures in the ch industry? Who among you will be projected in the hos of every household in the Komodo Star Sector? The chance to gain fa and make your na known to trillions of people is in your grasp. Are you not excited?"
Every ch designer cheered. They all fought hard to make themselves more prominent. Even if they failed to catch the interest of a master, the trip was still worth it if they beca a household na. Fa was a precious resource that accelerated any ch designer’s career.
"Now, let begin with the third round. This ti, the format revolves around teamwork. As you all know, ch designers often work together with other designers when involved in a major project. The best and most widely used designs are always a collection of each designer’s best results. No ch designer in existence claims to be the best at everything, though the Polymath cos awfully close."
Everyone laughed a little. Clair Gramza was an absolute genius with a terrifying level of intelligence. The amount of fields she specialized in could fill a whole data chip. Ves secretly wondered if the Star Designer bathed in intelligence gene boosts since birth.
"This ti, we wish to see so cooperation among you. Everyone will be grouped into teams of ten. Your task is to collectively design a single ch, which will be matched against every ch your rival groups have co up with once. This ti the AI pilots will not rember their previous results, so all the matches are absolutely consistent. The top fifty groups with the most wins will collectively qualify for the main competition tomorrow!"
Everyone gaped at the competition format. Working together wasn’t unheard of. Usually, small groups of ch designers often ca together to produce designs intended for mass production.
The problem was that when the number of people surpassed five, these groups often beca unwieldy. There were too many cooks in the kitchen. Everyone had their own ideas. If so people shared the sa specialties, they could easily clash. It was a nightmare trying to corral everybody even if their thoughts aligned.
"Now you may be wondering how you can control so many designers in a single group. Well, that’s for you to solve. You can have one designer do the work while the other nine do nothing. You can have each designer spend one hour with the design interface before letting another take over when their ti is up. You can partner with soone strong and beat up those you disagree with. As long as no one requires dical attention, we will not intervene."
"That’s barbaric!"
"Hah! I’m the captain of the boxing club! If you don’t want a bruise, you better acknowledge who’s boss!"
Ves had never heard of such an absurd ruleset for a group contest. Even physical intimidation wasn’t ruled out.
"Rember! The only design our simulations will accept is the one submitted by the group’s designated terminal. We won’t care if others block you from accessing the terminal, or if your entire group has argued so much that your design is incomplete. What’s on the terminal will be the only thing that’s approved. Now, find your group mates and make so new friends!"
A complex series of projections guided everyone together in groups of ten. Ves quickly t an eclectic group of designers. Seven of them were fliers, indicating their deep backgrounds. Four of them even wore the LIT’s alumni uniform. Ves was only one of three who ca from a less affluent background. He quickly stared at the young man and woman who remained on the ground.
"Hi. I’m Ves Larkinson, from the Bright Republic."
The woman glowered at him. "Missy Phillips. Vesia Kingdom."
His smile dropped a little when he heard that. Of all the possible teammates, the organizers grouped him with a girl from an enemy state.
Sensing the tension between the two, the remaining guy tried to break the tension. "Hello everyone. The na’s Clark McCullum, and I’m born and raised in the Coalition."
Both of them shook their hands with Clark. Neither Ves nor Missy wanted to ss up their chances by having a fruitless argunt over their national pride.
"If you plebs could kindly shut up, us real designers are about to work." A bossy woman called from above.
Neither of the three walkers appreciated her tone, though they dared not raise their voices. The woman was one of the graduates from Leemar. She also sported the most symbols on her uniform, which ant she earned plenty of achievents during her ti as a student.
Still, Ves did not want to be crowded out by the elites. He sumd up his courage and asked, "Who are you?"
"You have the pleasure of addressing Cynthia Barakovski. Perhaps you have heard of B&F Integrated?"
B&F Integrated was one of the Coalition’s heavy industry manufacturers. They also dipped their toes into ch production. The sales from their ch division easily surpassed a trillion cols.
After a few seconds, Missy’s eyes widened. She recognized her na. "You’re that Cynthia Barakovski who reached the top hundred in the last iteration of the Junior Rimward Gas!"
While Ves still didn’t recognize her na, the re ntion of the Junior Rimward Gas was sufficient to overawe everyone present. The Junior Rimward Gas was the most prestigious sports competition in the galaxy for everyone under twenty-five. They expanded into non-physical sports such as ch design a long ti ago.
Cynthia soaked up the attention with a smile. "You can rest that we will easily qualify with my presence. As long as you don’t disturb , I can easily design a killer ch."
Both Clark and Missy practically had stars in their eyes. Ves bewilderingly stared at their worshipping gazes. He never really paid much attention to the massive Rimward Gas, let alone the smaller Junior edition. He could only stand in place and witness Cynthia bewitching everyone into giving her space to design their group’s ch.
While Ves did not doubt Cynthia’s accomplishnts, it did not change that they were supposed to work as a group. Those that survived so far all had their strengths. As soone aiming to reach the finals, Ves believed even his own input should be valuable. He was not content to risk his chances by leaving it up to a stranger.
User Comments
0 comments from readers