This was Wayne Lane’s first defeat since he started school.

Although the combat room was empty at that time, Wayne Lane’s expression was still not pleasant.

The cold air hissed as it escaped.

It wasn’t because he lost the battle, but because he had underestimated his opponent.

At twelve years old, Hannah carried an arrogance that overwhelmed others, always exuding a tenacity that refused to admit defeat, like a young lioness that had just grown sharp teeth.

She was dressed in a white combat suit, her right arm cradling her helmet, her left hand propped on the knee joint of a large mech, her mouth curved into a smile that was flamboyant and radiant, "Hey, are you Wayne Lane?"

The girl’s smile invaded his vision, the boy’s lips tightly pressed, he nodded slightly.

He also removed his deep blue helmet, revealing a young and handsome face.

Even though his forehead was wet with sweat from unruly hair, he still seemed very cold.

"It’s me."

Geniuses always shine bright.

But just moments ago, this genius was defeated by Hannah.

So she smiled even more cheerfully, "They all say you’re a genius, but you just lost to me, do you admit defeat?"

Hannah thought, if he didn’t admit defeat, she would beat him until he did.

The boy was good, but he wasn’t as fierce as the split-toothed wolves from the wastelands.

These mutated wolves were three times larger than normal wolves, with a row of sharp spikes along their backs, their mouths revealing four sharp fangs when they grinned.

Their saliva was highly corrosive.

Every time they hunted outside, they moved in packs.

Facing such a pack of split-toothed wolves, even a high-level Armor Master might not be able to escape unscathed.

But Hannah could.

The first time she encountered a pack of split-toothed wolves she was only eight years old, badly injured, almost to the point of death.

"I admit defeat," the boy bowed his head slightly.

Defeated was defeated, he wasn’t about to quibble with a little girl.

But just as he was about to propose another battle, the class bell rang.

It was Hannah’s first day at school, and being late was bad, so she turned and ran away.

Wayne Lane didn’t even get the chance to speak as his outstretched hand watched her leave.

He hadn’t even gotten around to asking her name.

It wasn’t until Sheffield Benedict came looking for him, that he came back to his senses.

*

This memory was too distant, so distant that the smile of the girl in his recollections had started to blur.

By the time Wayne Lane came back, the room had already been emptied, even the blue wind chimes hanging under the window had been taken away.

Just like she said.

This level of defense could never imprison her.

Wayne Lane took off the white gloves on his hands and put them aside, then picked up the note thrown casually on the table.

——I left, don’t come looking for me.

The man lowered his gaze, again like that year standing in the empty combat room, his silent appearance like a statue.

After a while, a regular knocking sound came from the door.

The door was open.

Sheffield Benedict stood at the door.

Looking like he had rushed over, travel-worn, but his movements still conveyed a sense of elegance and culture, like the graceful gentlemen of ancient novels, fragrant orchids amidst the jade trees.

"Has she left?"

Wayne Lane looked up at the somewhat glaring daylight outside the window, his voice still calm, "Yeah."

"Didn’t you stop her?"

Wayne Lane turned around, looking at the man standing at the door, and remained silent.

Sheffield Benedict realized and laughed, "I forgot, you can’t beat her."

Wayne Lane’s brow furrowed slightly but he didn’t argue.

Whether it was before in the academy or afterwards on the battlefield, Hannah’s strength was the strongest.

She had only been defeated twice.

The kind of defeat where she didn’t resist, simply giving in.