My Glide On Death

A Rigorous but Thrilling Lunar Expedition

Just as I set foot on the lunar surface, I heard a beep. At first, my mind was ready to ignore it, but my body reacted differently. Thanks to the rigorous training I'd undergone, my reflexes kicked in without thinking.

I leaped about 8 meters away from the spot using the thrusters in my jet boots. And then…
Boom.
A moderate explosion occurred where I had been standing, as if a landmine had been triggered. But I knew better. Blastbots.

These are small, cat-sized robots that detonate upon impact. I was shocked to see them here. A swarm of them was now charging toward me. I jumped high again using my jet boots, and it only took two shots to destroy them. Because these bots not only self-detonate but also explode upon destruction, the rest were caught in the blast, sending me even higher into the low-gravity environment.

“Well done, Captain Gust. Phase 1—also known as the warm-up phase—is complete.”

I heard Mr. Hastings' voice in my helmet. Though there was no microphone, I could hear everything he was saying.

I landed back on the surface but soon realized I had lost my way. Fortunately, there were signposts on the Moon, likely leading to the Lunar Headquarters.

I followed them and found a small hut.

‘Optional: Play, win, and get awesome accessories—or die,’ was inscribed on the eerie structure.

I suspected it was some sort of game and expected a horde of robots waiting for me inside. Weighing the risks, I decided to move on.

But just as I stepped forward, I tripped over a wire, and the door of the hut swung open. A voice came from within:

“So, you chose to run? Take this.”

A robot emerged from the hut. I recognized it instantly—a Combatant Type-4, the most advanced and lethal melee robot ever created.

I was still on the ground when it charged at me.

I quickly used my jet boots to regain momentum, twisting midair to fire my supersonic dagger at one of its three vital cores. The hit stunned it for a brief moment, and in my panic, I unloaded five rounds of booster ammo from my scatterbeam into it, destroying a second core.

But this time, the robot moved with ninja-like speed, getting behind me in an instant. It could have easily cut me in half but seemed programmed only to scratch me, just enough to make me bleed.

I fired another booster shot, aiming not to hit the robot but to propel myself in the opposite direction, using the Moon’s low gravity to my advantage.

Saved... or so I thought. In the process, my oxygen pipe was sliced in half.

I quickly destroyed the robot's final core, shutting it down. But I knew I was running out of time. My oxygen supply was cut off.

Gasping for air, I fumbled with my medikit and pulled out an emergency oxygen inhaler, attaching it to the small closable vent in my helmet. This device was designed for exactly this kind of situation.

“Now I can breathe,” I muttered.

But I knew I only had 10-15 minutes of oxygen. I raced toward the headquarters, blasting any remaining Blastbots that crossed my path. In just 5 minutes, I reached my destination.

The building was massive, with no windows—understandable, given the Moon’s atmosphere. The gates opened, releasing a hiss of air as the pressure equalized, indicating that the inside had breathable oxygen. I hurried in while Mr. Hastings continued rambling in my helmet. I removed the oxygen inhaler, just in time to hear him say: