Chapter 49: Mrs. Thomas

[Mech startup sequence initiated.]

[Pilot, prepare for neural link connection.]

The tension in the room was razor-sharp, every second stretched taut as Shao Ye readied himself in the cockpit. Just as his hands moved to finalize the operation, a voice broke through the pressure like a gunshot.

“Stop!” Alice’s voice rang out, loud, commanding, and leaving no room for argument.

Shao Ye froze, blinking in confusion. His brows furrowed, but his resolve didn’t waver for a second. His eyes burned with determination as he replied, voice steady and cutting through the rising tension:

“Alice, you promised to back me on every decision for this plan. I promised you one thing: this plan will succeed. Failure isn’t an option.”

Alice sprang to her feet, her body practically vibrating with urgency. “I’m not stopping you, Shao Ye. Someone’s stepping up to take your place. You don’t have to pilot the mech yourself.”

He shot her a skeptical glare. “Who? We ran out of candidates, didn’t we? Don’t tell me it’s that person...”

Before she could answer, the lab broke into chaos. Whispers, gasps, the ripple of disbelief swept through the gathered crew like a wildfire.

But Shao Ye stayed planted in his seat, eyes narrowing in suspicion. This had to be a bluff, Alice trying to shake him loose from his mission. No way was he stepping out. Not yet.

Then, the lab doors slid open with a hiss. The room fell silent.

In strode a blonde Omega, green eyes sharp as broken glass, her every step brimming with unshakable confidence. She carried herself like a storm in a silk dress, graceful yet undeniable.

“Good evening, everyone. Apologies for being late,” she said, her voice low and polished, with just enough edge to grab attention.

The researchers erupted into murmurs of recognition, their shock melting into something close to relief. It was like someone had just lit a candle in the middle of a pitch-black cave.

The woman approached the mech, stopping just short of its towering frame. She tilted her chin up, meeting Shao Ye’s gaze with the kind of confidence that dared him to question her.

“You can call me Mrs. Thomas,” she said, lips curving into a cool smile. “Special Ops Elite, mother of Yas. Personally appointed by Commander Lu as the Alliance’s top mech combat instructor. Thirty years of piloting experience. And I’m here to see your little test plan through.”

Her words hit the room like a hammer.

“Yas’s mother?”

Shao Ye’s gut twisted. The name Yas wasn’t just a wound; it was an open, raw scar. His sister had killed Yas, and now, standing here, offering to help him, was the Omega who had every reason to hate his guts.

The air grew thick with unspoken emotions. Gratitude, guilt, and something that felt too much like shame coiled inside Shao Ye, tightening around his chest.

This wasn’t just about testing a mech. This woman was offering him a chance to save the life growing inside him—a gift he didn’t deserve, but one he couldn’t refuse.

The cockpit’s seal broke with a hiss, and Shao Ye climbed out. His usual sharpness dulled by the weight of everything, he stood there, his lips parting but no words coming out. His hands trembled at his sides.

Mrs. Thomas stepped closer, her expression softer now but no less intense. She reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder, and her voice dropped to something almost maternal.

“Kid, I respect your heart and your bravery. Losing a child… it’s a wound that doesn’t heal. It hollows you out, leaves you bleeding in places no one can see. My son is gone. I don’t have choices anymore. But you? You did have a choice. And you chose the hard road. That’s not weakness—it’s strength. The kind that comes with its own kind of hell, but strength nonetheless.”

Shao Ye bit down hard on his lower lip, trying like hell to keep the tears from falling. But damn it, those unshed tears clung to his eyes, spinning like a storm he couldn't control.

How the hell wouldn't it hurt?

This wasn’t just pain—it was the kind that shredded you from the inside out, tearing at your chest like an invisible fist squeezing your heart until it cracked. The kind that burned through your bones and left nothing but ash.

God only knew how he survived the night before. Torture in the deepest pits of hell would’ve been a damn spa day compared to the hellfire that had ripped through his soul.

Mrs. Thomas’s hand rested gently on his head, her touch featherlight but heavy with a kind of warmth Shao Ye hadn’t felt in years. Her eyes—God, her eyes—held something raw, like she was staring at a ghost of her own.

“My boy,” she began, her voice soft yet cutting right through him. “When Alice sent me the invitation, I didn’t want to come. You can guess why. But when I heard what you chose to do…” She paused, her voice trembling just enough to twist the knife deeper. “I couldn’t bear it. Losing a child—I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all you. Not this early.”

That broke him. The dam burst. Hot tears streaked down Shao Ye’s face, no holding back now. “Thank you,” he choked out, voice cracking under the weight of too much emotion. “Thank you, ma’am.”

His words barely made it out before the room erupted in silent solidarity. One by one, the other researchers moved closer, placing hands on his shoulders. No words. Just raw, unfiltered support—enough to remind him he wasn’t alone in this madness.

And with Mrs. Thomas stepping in, their mech project shifted into overdrive.

Mrs. Thomas wasn’t just any Omega; she was a legend—an Omega working for the damned Alliance Military, teaching mech piloting, no less. Her reputation wasn’t just built on her badass skills but also the years of blood, sweat, and political war Lu Zhanxing had waged to carve out a place for Omegas like her.

Over the next few days, she tore through the fourth-gen mech like a hurricane, pointing out every flaw like she was peeling off dead skin. Her brutal critiques were matched only by the genius of her solutions. Streamlined modifications, tactical upgrades—she didn’t just make the mech better; she made it a weapon of goddamned perfection.

Shao Ye and his team slaved away under her guidance, hammering out every flaw, every inefficiency. By the end, the mech wasn’t just good; it was an unholy beast, leagues beyond anything they’d dreamed of.

“We did it!” One of the researchers practically screamed, grinning like a maniac. “Every base test passed! This fourth-gen mech is unstoppable—absolutely perfect!”

Mrs. Thomas dismounted the mech, her movements deliberate, calm—too calm. Her face betrayed no excitement, no pride.

Shao Ye caught it instantly. He grabbed a bottle of nutrient water, walked up to her, and handed it over. “Ma’am, you’re not satisfied. What’s wrong? What did we miss?”

She took the bottle without a word, twisting the cap open and taking a slow sip. Her eyes dropped, distant, her silence dragging out until it felt unbearable.

“It has no flaws,” she finally said, her tone steady but sharp as a blade. “But it’s not perfect.”

Shao Ye’s stomach dropped. He straightened, eyes narrowing. “What’s the problem?”

She exhaled softly, almost like she pitied him. “Its speed is remarkable, sure. But if the enemy launches an ultimate missile, it’s dead in the water. No mech escapes that. Not this one. Not any.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut. Shao Ye froze, gears turning in his head. The ultimate missile—an apex predator of the battlefield, a nightmare no tech could outrun or outmaneuver.

And now, it loomed over everything they’d built.

For as long as anyone could remember—be it the high-ranking brass of the Alliance Military or the scrappy rebel forces clawing at their heels—one unshakable truth loomed over every battlefield like a death sentence carved in steel: if an ultimate missile locked onto you, you were done. Game over. Not a soul ever dared challenge this so-called "law" of modern warfare, as if the gods of technology had etched it into the universe.

But Shao Ye? Oh, he knew better. Truth, he thought, is nothing but a placeholder—something to cling to until someone gets pissed off enough, brave enough, or just reckless enough to rip it apart.

That someone? Him.

A glimmer of an idea sparked in his eyes as he leaned back, savoring the moment. Then, with a deliberate, almost lazy tone, he dropped the bombshell: "We can make the mech jump dimensions. That’ll ditch the missile like it’s yesterday’s trash."

The room went still. Mrs. Thomas, the kind of woman whose poker face could outlast a nuke countdown, flinched. Just barely. She chewed on the concept for a moment, her silence heavy with calculation. Finally, she spoke: "It’s plausible—barely. But dimensional jumps? They’re still theoretical. Pulling that off is like asking a toddler to crack quantum physics."

Her words didn’t faze Shao Ye; they fueled him. He was already pacing, his mind racing faster than any missile. "It’s not just plausible—it’s doable," he said, eyes alight with manic energy. "The Alliance Tech Institute has already cooked up a prototype teleporter. Sure, it’s experimental, but who cares? We can hijack that tech and make it work for the mechs."

Before anyone could protest, he was on a warpath. Shao Ye rounded up the team, his pitch a mix of wild ambition and raw conviction. The reactions were instant: slack jaws, raised eyebrows, and a spark of awe that no one could deny.

"If this works," someone murmured, "we’re rewriting history."

"Not just history," another added, voice trembling with excitement. "We’re rewriting survival. One jump, and we cut the death rate to near zero. This changes everything."

The buzz was electric. But Shao Ye wasn’t stopping there. He cornered Ye Li, demanding access to the top-secret teleportation research files. Ye Li didn’t just hand them over—he threw in a disassembled prototype of a mechanical bird used in earlier experiments, like it was a damn party favor.

"General Lu activated top-tier clearance for you before he left," Ye Li said casually, like it was no big deal. "Every resource is yours. Knock yourself out."

The mention of Lu Zhanxing hit Shao Ye like a punch to the gut. That man had thought of everything, even in the chaos of war. For a moment, Shao Ye’s chest tightened—not with sadness, but with an unshakable resolve.

He’d make this work. For the war. For Lu Zhanxing. For their kid waiting for peace like it was some far-off fairy tale.

Shao Ye dove in headfirst, his obsession burning brighter than ever.

Sleep? Forget it.

Food? Secondary.

The mech jump project consumed him. The mech’s armored shell, he realized, was a game-changer. It could protect against the chaotic forces of dimensional travel, turning what was once theoretical into something tangible.

Weeks of relentless grind later, the team stood on the precipice of the impossible. The mech was ready for its first jump test. The air in the lab was thick with nerves and adrenaline.

But then, as the countdown hit zero and the room held its collective breath—shit hit the fan.

Of course it did.