Dang dang dang.
"Vincent! Can you stop doing that already?! You've been hitting it at least a hundred times, and it's only morning!"
"Hey! Let me enjoy my moment, Raella! It took an annoyingly long time for me to receive my custom piece. Now that I finally have it, I need to make sure its protection is up to my expectations."
The two young Larkinsons were just finishing their breakfast at the dining table in their stateroom.
Raella had a busy day ahead of her like always. As the director of the Larkinson Mech Games Circuit, her workload had practically doubled after a large number of Lifers and Heavensworders joined the clan.
The latter especially gave her a headache! The former citizens of the Heavensword Association were so accustomed to competitions that they demanded a lot more matches than her department could currently organize!
A lot more swordsmanship and swordsman mech competitions had popped up as of late. Most of the participants consisted of Swordmaidens and Heavensworders, though a number of Larkinsons from the other mech forces took part as well in order to gain more effective practice.
Though Raella was glad that the Larkinson Clan acquired a more competitive spirit, the clan didn't have enough venues to organize all of the matches.
It was rather fortunate that she received permission from General Verle to borrow some free space from the Graveyard and the Dragon's Den as temporary ground-based mech arenas.
While it was rather expensive and troublesome to reinforce the borrowed spaces and set up numerous energy-intensive shield generators, she was glad that she received the support from the higher-ups. Evidently, they agreed with her that all of the restless mech pilots in their ranks needed an outlet to experience more visceral combat and enjoy a form of entertainment that was fully Larkinson.
"Nyeow~"
Minxie had just finished her bowl of cat food and began to brush her white fur against Raella's hands. The woman petted her cat's long, white fur and smiled.
"Have you been up to any trouble lately?"
"Nyeow."
"Don't run around too much. We might stumble in a combat situation and I don't want you to be stuck somewhere dangerous. The forward observation chamber might be nice and open, but it is very vulnerable to attack. If you want to go out, then settle somewhere deeper in the ship, like New Dorum or something, alright?"
"Nyeow!"
As Raella communicated with her elegant cat, her boyfriend stood up from his chair and boldly stretched his legs and began to take long, exaggerated steps.
A gleeful smile appeared on his face as he started making exaggerated kicks in the air. The new baggy uniform pants he started wearing recently helped a lot with allowing him to exercise his recently-grown legs.
"Those Lifer docs sure know what they are doing!" Vincent admired his new limbs. "I can hardly feel the difference from my old pair of legs!"
Even though the operation already happened a month ago, it took quite a lot of time for everything to settle and for him to complete his initial rehabilitation process.
Right now, Vincent was still prohibited from running marathons and so on, but that hardly mattered since he mainly piloted mechs for a living.
In truth, the real reason why he wore a wider and baggier uniform wasn't so that he could kick in the air whenever he felt like it. He also didn't wear it in order to hide the fact that his athletic, toned physique had deteriorated a bit after being unable to exercise as vigorously as before.
No, the real reason he wore his current outfit was because he received too many complaints from others when he wore his normal, slim-fit uniform.
The source of other people's complaints pertained to one crucial addition to his daily wardrobe.
Vincent formed a fist and gently rapped it downwards.
Dang dang dang.
A sturdy metal sound rang from his waist!
The moment he received his new 'protection gear' and wore it underneath his pants, it was as if he finally turned invincible. Though the metal device was a bit bulky and troublesome to operate whenever he needed to go to the bathroom, why should he aim for comfort when protection was all that mattered?
He never wanted to end up in a position where his manhood was at risk ever again! He would rather lose his legs a hundred times than harm his original organ!
Vincent couldn't even imagine how he would end up like if he had to live his life while carrying a cloned 'third leg'. Just the thought of it was a nightmare!
A bot came to clean up the dishes while the pair prepared to go their separate ways. They briefly embraced each other for a kiss before leaving for work.
While Raella strode off to manage her expanded department, Vincent moved down to the hangar bay in order to gather alongside a special group of Larkinson mech pilots.
He approached with a casual stride and waved at his peers. "Hey! What's up, fellas?"
The three gathered expert candidates did not respond well to his casual greeting. Their rigid postures and their serious demeanors made it clear that they took their duties a lot more seriously than Vincent.
They were true professionals!
Not only that, they rarely relaxed these days. Even when they were off-duty, they constantly poured themselves into additional training.
Whether it was taking sword lessons from the Heavensworders or learning some tips on how to bolster their defenses from Venerable Jannzi, the trio standing before him were thinking day and night about how to better their performance.
Vincent couldn't imagine living like this! Life was too beautiful for him to squander all of his time on training. Though he knew this was the Larkinson way, he felt that too many people were taking it too far. He didn't sign up to the Larkinson Clan to subject himself to military standards.
Unfortunately, his current identity made it impossible for him to shirk all of his new duties.
Lieutenant Hector Larkinson voiced his usual disdain this time. "Did you take too long in gearing up your 'lower shield' this time?"
"You can't rush this important ritual. I have to make sure it won't chafe against anything over the course of my day." Vincent nonchalantly replied.
"I really don't know how you managed to become an expert candidate with an attitude like yours." Trinity said while she impatiently tapped her foot against the deck of the hangar bay. "There are many more deserving Larkinsons who could contribute much more to the clan with your strength."
"Well tough luck, babe, because my power is all mine. God or whoever is watching me from above has finally given me some slack after giving me such a hard time throughout my life. I earned my gift and I won't let anyone question my worth."
Percival Larkinson didn't even deign to comment on that. The fourth expert candidate who gathered here was consumed by much more important thoughts.
Though all of them were honored expert candidates whose skill and battle prowess had surpassed that of their regular colleagues, they were actually in a rather awkward position.
They were nothing compared to actual expert pilots.
Even if the current expert pilots of the Larkinson Clan had yet to receive their expert mechs, the prime mechs they piloted for now were already strong enough to tear through entire mech companies!
Though Vincent was very confident in his skills, even he acknowledged that he couldn't defeat so many mechs by himself.
A mech captain of the Hall of Heroes eventually approached the foursome. "I see that none of you are late this time. Good. You are all in luck for today. We've managed to come to an arrangement with our Crosser allies. We are increasing our cooperation with the other clan in several important ways, and one of them is holding joint training sessions. The Crossers are much more knowledgeable when it comes to training expert candidates and expert pilots, so we have worked hard to grasp this opportunity for you and our other expert candidates."
"What do you mean by that?" Vincent puzzlingly frowned. "We're not training under Larkinsons this time?"