The Mech Touch

The closer to the center of the Third Rome, the less busy the interior of the capital ship became.

The artworks became grander and more imposing, but the amount of Dostoevsky crew members that moved around steadily dropped.

That was not all. The noise levels gradually appeared to dim as they moved closer.

This was not a result of the Messenger of Silence's impressively strong Saint Kingdom.

As powerful as he may be once he interfaced with his famous ace mech, it was impossible for him to radiate his willpower too far from his body outside of the cockpit.

The only way this could change was if he had stepped on the road to no return and completed at least some of the unions between man and machine.

All of this meant that the gradual reduction in ambient and background noise was a deliberate effect produced by the operators of this large fleet carrier.

Behavioral restrictions combined with technological sound dampening gradually reduced the maximum amount of noise that people can make.

The various ship systems that always produced constant hums or other persistent background noise began to fade as well.

If Saint Tusa Billingsley-Larkinson was not aware of all of the reasons why these changes happened, then he would have feared that he may actually be losing his hearing!

Lieutenant Daria Doststoevskaya's whole demeanor changed as well. Her posture became more rigid. Her behavior became more professional. She spoke more softly than before.

"We are close." She literally whispered to Tusa. "We have no further special instructions to give you. Despite his acquired reputation, our great champion is not intolerant to different personalities. As long as you treat him with sincerity, he shall reciprocate. If it turns out your personality does not fit well with him, we can end this exchange program early and send you back to the Larkinson Clan in advance."

"That will not be necessary, I hope." Tusa whispered back.

The two stopped before a well-armored gate that was completely closed shut at the moment. A squad of honor guards equipped with extremely high-tech suits of combat armor examined Tusa from top to bottom before clearing him to proceed.

Not that Tusa had any realistic hope of harming a much more powerful ace pilot, but the necessary precautions had to be taken.

The ace pilot residing in the chamber beyond this gate was one of the best chances for the Terran Alliance to spawn another god pilot!

Absolutely nothing could go wrong for the Messenger of Silence. All of his requests had to be met unless they were clearly unrealistic such as disbanding the Red Association.

Since the Messenger of Silence felt like mentoring a fresh ace pilot all of a sudden, then the Dostoevsky's were happy to oblige!

The young lieutenant no longer accompanied Tusa any further. She made a series of standard military hand signals that Tusa could easily interpret.

"Very well. I shall speak normally, if the Messenger of Silence does not dislike my voice. It is a…. relief to hear that I am not obliged to follow this particular custom. No offense, but things have become too quiet for my liking.

The silence had become disconcerting to Tusa!

Places like these shouldn't sound so still and frozen. It was as if everyone aboard the Third Rome was already dead, but only persisted in their duties due to the commands of a higher authority.

The heavy reinforced gates slowly slid open. The mechanisms had been smoothened to such a point that they did not produce a single noise!

As Saint Tusa slowly passed through, he entered what appeared to be a monument to the dead.

To put it in a less charitable fashion, Tusa felt as if he had stepped right in the middle of a large graveyard!

It was downright macabre for him to enter into such a place of remembrance and contemplation.

Certainly, it was not unusual for large fleet carriers and other military vessels to dedicate shrines or memorials to pay tribute to the honored dead that once served on the ships, but to dedicate so much internal real estate to build a huge graveyard in one of the most well-protected sections of the ship was something else!

Tusa cautiously navigated through the graveyard. The low grass, the perfectly maintained traditional gravestones and the utter silence all caused him to become metaphorically pressed by the dead.

His domain field, as weak as it was without the amplification of his Dark Zephyr, could barely sense that there were real bodies buried beneath every gravestone!

Not all of the coffins were filled with actual corpses. This was not a surprise as many soldiers tended to die after getting blown up by mech-grade or more recently warship-grade weapon systems.

Regardless of whether the coffins were filled or not, each gravestone carried a strong weight of guilt and sentiment.

These associations did not come from the objects themselves. Tusa could clearly tell that the Messenger of Silence spent so much time mourning the names on the gravestones that his willpower permanently reshaped the individual monuments!

Once Tusa approached a central clearing, he finally caught sight of his target.

Saint Isaiah Simovich Dostoevsky did exactly what Tusa expected from a person who hung out in a graveyard.

The peak ace pilot wore a black formal outfit that one would wear to funerals. The man showed none of the demeanor of a man who was just four steps away from ascending to godhood.

The Messenger of Silence looked incredibly vulnerable as he stood in front of one of the many graves!

Despite his strange appearance, Tusa did not feel as if the other ace pilot was weak or a pushover.

The older ace pilot's willpower was much stronger. Much, much stronger. It was like the difference between a small moon and an enormous gas giant!

Tusa even had the illusion that all it took was a single spark to ignite the gas giant and spawn a brand-new star!

Yet… it was always the last few steps that hindered god pilot candidates the most. The Messenger of Silence had yet to step on the road to no return, and he must have his reasons for doing so. Outside pressure increasingly compelled him to begin the irreversible Mech Body Merger Process, but the powerful saint appeared to be resisting this life-changing decision… for the time being.

Once Tusa stopped at a respectful distance from the ace pilot, he could already feel his weaker willpower rubbing against the much more intense willpower of his mentor.

The initial contact was not pleasant. It was never pleasant. The two may have left the cockpits of their mechs, but that did not mean that their 'Saint Kingdoms' liked getting encroached upon!

However, the collision between Saint Kingdoms was also one of the best ways for two unfamiliar ace pilots to quickly familiarize themselves with each other.

In the span of a few seconds, Tusa almost became overtaken by the overwhelmingly strong emotions of his mentor.

The overarching sensations of loss, regret and mourning practically generated illusions in Tusa's mind that put him back to the fateful battlefield where the Terrans suffered a devastating loss against the Rubarthans in one of the many territorial scuffles that used to take place in the old galaxy!

Though the Terrans and the Rubarthans generally did not consider the battle to be significant enough, it was completely different for the Messenger of Silence!

That single loss completely broke his confident and arrogant demeanor and turned him into the dour and constantly mourning champion he was today!

There was another facet about the Messenger of Silence that disconcerted Tusa a lot.

The meeting between domain fields also caused Tusa to perceive that the Messenger of Silence was locked in his own illusions.

The Terran ace pilot was haunted by the dead.

From the perspective of the Messenger of Silence, all of the lost Terran souls from that devastating defeat had latched onto Saint Isaiah Dostoevsky and never gave him any rest!

No wonder the man had become so obsessed with silence. Tusa realized that his mentor had been chasing after an escape from all of the tortured screams and recriminations from the ghosts that haunted his psyche!

Soon enough, the illusions that briefly overwhelmed Tusa faded a bit. He knew that the Messenger of Silence must have gained a similar impression of him as well. Both automatically grew a little more familiar in each other's presence.

As the younger and much weaker ace pilot among the two, Tusa placed his hand on his chest and made a moderate bow.

"It is an honor to meet you, Messenger. I am Saint Tusa Billingsley-Larkinson. The Larkinson Clan has loaned me out to the Dostoevsky Ancient Clan for a duration of three months, with the option to extend my stay multiple times. I am to fight on behalf of your ancient clan in exchange for receiving your guidance and tutelage on how to fight as a first-class ace pilot on dangerous battlefields."

A few moments of silence passed. It was incredibly eerie for Tusa to hear absolutely nothing aside from his own voice and breathing. He felt as if he had violated the sanctity of this temple by having the temerity to actually speak!

He was sure he received an allowance for it, so he did not hold these thoughts for long.

The Messenger of Silence eventually communicated with Tusa. He used his domain field along with a few subtle gestures of his arm to convey a surprisingly rich and precise meaning.

"..."

The younger ace pilot bowed lower to express his earnest respect and gratitude. "Please instruct me. I am new to first-class mech combat and fighting alongside other first-class forces. There is far far too much for me to learn. I have tried to work on my shortcomings by reading numerous books and watching a lot of recent battle footage, but that is anything but enough to prepare me for the challenges ahead."

Tusa relaxed. The worst outcome did not come to pass. The Messenger of Silence did not develop an instant dislike for the Larkinson ace pilot and reaffirmed his commitment to act as a mentor!

The younger ace pilot bowed lower to express his earnest respect and gratitude. "Please instruct me. I am new to first-class mech combat and fighting alongside other first-class forces. There is far far too much for me to learn. I have tried to work on my shortcomings by reading numerous books and watching a lot of recent battle footage, but that is anything but enough to prepare me for the challenges ahead."

The Messenger of Silence nodded.

"..."

Tusa looked surprised. "Thank you. I… was not aware that my application to be mentored held so much significance to you. I did not know that you have been haunted by ghosts on a constant basis for such a long time that you have been working so hard to get rid of them. Are you… are you sure that you will be able to free yourself from your ghosts if you successfully manage to advance?"

"..."

This was a deeply personal issue to Saint Dostoevsky.

Personally, Tusa suspected that these ghosts did not exist in any reality. They were purely products of the ace pilot's disordered imagination.

If this was the case, then ascending to godhood might not allow the Messenger of Silence to free himself from this psychological burden.

He would just continue to get haunted by ghosts strong enough to torment god pilots, and wasn't that a frightening thought!

Tusa kept these guesses to himself, though he knew that a powerhouse of Saint Dostoevsky's caliber must have picked up on it anyway.

"I am not quite sure what I am supposed to learn from you, to be honest. Our skillsets and specializations are too far apart from each other. If I have to choose what I want to learn the most from you, it is your skill and ability to completely isolate powerful adversaries. My new ace mech has granted me a similar ability of sorts. While it works on completely different principles, I hope that you can help me become more proficient in its use so that I can unleash my greater potential much sooner than normal."

"..."

"I would love to show you what I can do with my ace mech. I have heard much about your famous abilities. I think… I should experience it myself at least once."

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