Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 37: Practice Makes Perfect

Chapter 37: Practice Makes Perfect

Mandy landed on a soft mat, so the fall didn’t hurt too much. Still, she felt a bit dazed; Lyra moved so quickly that Mandy couldn’t react as their instructor had shown them.

"Are you okay?" Lyra reached out a hand, thinking she hadn’t hit too hard, and why Mandy wasn’t getting up.

Lyra had always been strong, even as a kid. Her mom would tell stories of how, at just two years old, she could punch her dad’s nose hard enough to make it bleed. Even wooden toys didn’t stand a chance and would break quickly; she had to stick with metal ones.

Although the Soul Spikes had weakened Lyra’s body to almost normal human levels, her superpower still gave her bursts of intense energy. She hadn’t sparred with a beginner like Mandy before and worried she might have overdone it.

"I’m... fine." Mandy grabbed her hand and stood up, hesitating as she glanced at Lyra. "Have you trained before?"

"Yes."

Mandy fumbled for words after that short response, then stammered, "I see. I heard Voidstar is pretty chaotic. You’d probably get bullied if you hadn’t trained."

"It’s okay," Lyra said, taking a step back. "Let’s continue."

Mandy nodded and tried to throw Lyra by grabbing her arm, but it was like trying to move a mountain. She thought Lyra couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.

Mandy herself could easily lift a hover bike.

Lyra sighed, swept Mandy’s heel, and gently put her on her back again.

Webber, watching the students practice, walked over and asked, "Do you want to switch partners?"

The skill level between the two was too different; Lyra wasn’t getting any practice.

Mandy, always attuned to others’ feelings, immediately felt nervous. She was sure she was doing something wrong and that Webber was unhappy with her.

"No need. She’s doing fine."

Lyra preferred keeping things simple; fewer words meant fewer complications. Webber didn’t push the issue and looked at the blonde girl, who seemed touched. "Then teach her more."

"Okay."

Helping a classmate is basic kindness; it helps everyone get along better. To Mandy, this meant her roommate was nice despite her cold exterior. "You’re so nice, Lyra. I thought everyone from Voidstar would be hard to get along with."

Lyra gave her a puzzled look. ’Girl, you’re generalizing a lot, but fair enough.’

"You have to believe, there are no good people on Voidstar," said Lyra.

Not far away, Jorath had been eavesdropping.

Suddenly, he felt inspired. ’That’s right, this woman from Voidstar No.2 might have some secrets.’ He decided to dig into her background.

Mecha piloting is a big part of military school grades, with strict requirements even in pre-training.

For a bunch of beginners, the school wasn’t about to let them use real mechas, but they had plenty of mecha simulation rooms set up for practice.

When the group entered the simulation room, it was like stepping into a real mecha cockpit. Everything—from the control panels to the seats—was an exact replica.

"The cockpit in front of you is a one-to-one replica of the D-class humanoid mecha, the most commonly used type in the military. Once you get the hang of it, you can try other types of mechas..."

In the Alliance, there are tons of mecha simulation games, almost all of these young recruits had tried them.

The cubicles soon filled with excited chatter.

Webber chuckled a bit. The students were so pumped just by being in the simulation cockpits; they’d probably faint if they got to pilot a real mecha. However, when it came time for the actual mecha exams, they might not be so eager to see these machines again.

"Alright, get familiar with the buttons... Hey, who said you could mess with the buttons in cockpit number five?!" Webber’s voice blasted through the speaker, startling everyone.

Lyra quietly turned down the volume, carefully running her fingers over the levers and controls in front of her.

It had been a while since she last used a military mecha.

Once Webber finished his instructions, the students began practicing the various commands on the control panels.

They started with the basics like moving, raising arms, shooting, and jumping. Later, they’d learn more complex moves and how to use the levers and power sticks together.

With over fifty different commands to learn, the students’ initial excitement quickly faded.

The gap between those who had some practice and those who’d only played games became obvious. During daily assessments, some struggled to complete tasks, while others aced them, earning perfect scores from the system.

...

At dinner, Mandy poked at her food, feeling down as she looked around at her three roommates. They had all scored perfectly, while she barely scraped by and needed extra practice.

"I have a date, so I need to head back to the dorm to shower," Vivian said, leaving quickly. She’d recently hit it off with a senior and didn’t have time to help Mandy out.

With her best friend gone, Mandy felt overwhelmed and couldn’t bring herself to ask for help.

"Mandy, why aren’t you eating?" Zinnia asked. From her own experiences, she couldn’t quite grasp Mandy’s anxiety over mecha grades.

"Zinnia, could you come practice mecha piloting with me?" Mandy asked hesitantly.

"I thought it was something serious. Just practicing? Finish your food, and we’ll go!" Zinnia was always willing to help. She then turned to the quiet girl next to her, "Lyra, are you coming?"

"Yes, I need the practice too," Lyra responded. It had been a long time since she’d used a mecha, and she needed to refresh her memory, even though the school couldn’t provide actual mechas for practice.

Mandy looked at her in surprise. "But you got a perfect score."

"You still need to practice?"

"A perfect score doesn’t mean there’s no room for improvement," Lyra said calmly. A hand speed of 100 might earn a perfect score, but you could always aim for 150.

Mandy heard the determination in her voice and realized just how wide the gap was between them. This made her even more hesitant to speak up around her roommates.

The rest of their days were filled with afternoon mecha training, morning combat drills, and occasionally, lectures on wilderness survival with several classes combined.

Many students thought the lectures were just a way for the school to lighten their workload, and they often found themselves nodding off.

Lyra noticed the instructors’ sly smiles during the lectures, suspecting they had a surprise in store.

Finally, on the twentieth day of pre-training, the head instructor made an announcement during a lecture: "Next, our Combat School will have a three-day field training exercise!"

Webber watched as the students’ expressions shifted from shock to disbelief, enjoying the moment of catching them off guard.

"We’ve prepared basic supplies for you," he announced, "and you’ll be spending three days on a deserted island. Your mission is to avoid ’enemy’ forces, protect the ’secret documents’ the school will give you, and reach the endpoint. Reaching the endpoint successfully will earn you full marks; the longer you survive, the higher your score. This score will count toward your final grade."

He continued, "Of course, you can also go on the offensive by disrupting the ’enemy’ bases. Succeeding in these tasks will earn you extra credits. But, if you fail and get captured, points will be deducted."

The "enemies" in this exercise would be the school’s instructors, dressed in disguise. The head instructor made it clear that while the instructors wouldn’t intentionally harm the students, they wouldn’t hold back either, to make the experience as real as possible.

Behind him, the instructors stood with serious expressions, looking eager and ready, like predators about to hunt.

The students, standing below the platform, gulped in unison, finally grasping why NMA had a reputation for its tough and intense training methods.