My Glide On Death

Chapter 8: Phase 3: Race Against the Dual Fury

I stepped into the arena, my eyes locking onto a sleek robot standing in the center. Its right eye glowed a menacing red, while the left was eerily blank. The machine had four arms, as if two weren't enough. Mounted on its shoulders were what appeared to be cannons, and two of its arms ended in Gatling guns, while the other two had humanoid hands. A lethal combination of melee and ranged attacks, just as I'd been warned.

The robot powered up, its red eye flaring even brighter. From the elbows of its empty hands, two plasma sabers ignited, extending outward. The sabers angled toward me, leaving only a narrow gap between them, where I knew a laser would soon fire.

I tensed, ready for whatever came next.

The plasma sabers began to rotate, and a faint bluish-purple light flickered in the narrow gap between them. I knew it was charging an attack. Common sense dictated that the brighter the light grew, the closer it was to firing. But I miscalculated. The light was still dim when a laser shot forth, blazing toward my head with lightning speed. Instinctively, I flinched—my armor-enhanced reflexes barely saving me. The beam grazed my head, and where it struck, my armor disintegrated as if it had never existed, exposing my hair.

Before I could fully react, the robot was behind me. It plunged its rotating plasma sabers directly into my energy regenerator—the core powering my armor. Sparks flew as the regenerator was annihilated. The robot stepped back, its stance cold and mocking, as if relishing my helplessness.

“Gust, that’s enough. Your energy source is gone. You can’t regenerate your armor anymore, nor will you have near-limitless power. Step back before you deplete what’s left,” Hastings urged through my comms.

“No,” I responded, defiant. “I’ll fight until I can’t.”

Hastings’ voice faded from my comms, but I didn’t need to hear it again. The truth was clear: my energy regenerator was gone, and I couldn't rely on regeneration anymore. But my armor still had power—just enough to keep me going, for now. I had to make every move count.

I focused, channeling the remaining energy in my armor, pulling it into my legs. The surge of power was immediate. I could feel the extra strength in my muscles, the boost to my speed. The robot wasn’t giving me any time to think, though. It was already powering up its cannons again.

I dashed behind a large, crumbling pillar. The remnants of the arena gave me plenty of places to hide, and I planned on using every advantage I had. The robot’s red eye followed me as I ducked, its cannons humming to life.

I needed to hit it hard and fast. My fingers hovered over the controls on my forearm, activating the scatterbeam—my plasma shotgun. It was a weapon that could adapt to any situation. I focused, and the gun’s power intensified in my hand.

I peeked from behind the pillar, aiming quickly. The robot’s plasma sabers were still rotating, but it hadn’t noticed me yet. I squeezed the trigger. The condensed shot hit the robot square in the chest, and sparks flew from the impact. The robot staggered back slightly, but it was still standing. That didn’t surprise me; this machine was tough.

I couldn’t waste time. The robot was already recovering. I took a deep breath, shifting my focus. I needed a plan, and I needed it now.

I adjusted my stance, channeling my armor’s energy to my arms. The power surged into my hands, making them feel heavier, stronger. I had to end this quickly. I pulled out my auto gun and let it target the robot. The plasma auto gun hummed in my grip, its auto-target system locking on to the machine’s movements. I squeezed the trigger, unleashing a barrage of smaller plasma shots. The rounds hit the robot’s armor, but it barely flinched.