I get myself out of bed and dressed. I feel refreshed having gone fishing. I head out to begin my usual morning routine. I wait at the training grounds past the usual meeting time. When the girls don't arrive I go for a hard run. In the end, I'm sucking wind and coughing having run myself ragged. After I head to the gym and get some rack time. I decide to finish up with the punching bag and speed bag. I spend nearly an hour punching and kicking until I feel it's time to go. I check the time and see it is only ten. Two more hours before the senior tournament begins. I plan to watch it to learn who are the big dogs on campus as well as the META (most effective tactic available) when it comes to the gladiatorial fights.

I towel myself off in the bathroom and head to get some breakfast. I go to the usual cafe and get myself my usual eggs and bacon. When finished I pay and head to my room and shower. As I continue something feels very off. No one has bothered me. I also have not even seen a person aside from the workers at the gym and the cafe. This seems odd. Way too peaceful for my liking. I shower and get dressed in my usual uniform and look up places to watch the tournament.

I am directed to a sports bar and head there. It is completely empty except for workers. I shrug it off as it being thirty till noon. Due to the emptiness, I get a great spot in front of a large screen. I order some soda and get comfortable. The screen turns on and it shows the inside of a very ornate building which I very quickly recognize as a church, but not Christian or any other religion. At the center where the altar is, Seraphina stands in a shimmering gold dress while lights illuminate her like during her entry speech.

The crowd is massive, with no sitting room. Everyone is standing shoulder to shoulder. Suddenly they all drop to one knee and say something in Latin. I watch the church ceremony with interest and Seraphina gives a speech about honor and glory and whatever. The speech ends exactly at noon and the room is emptied quickly. The screen then cuts to two sportscasters at the big arena on campus.

They say the usual pre-game stuff like predictions and whatnot. It's entertaining to see stats, but find it kinda hurtful that military combat has turned into a sport. The first match is up soon. I order some cheese curds and hype myself up internally for the action to come when the handheld in my pocket rings. I answer the call without looking at the screen,

"Hello? You've reached Mike."

A very calm and emotionless male voice answers saying,

"Hello, Mike. I'm glad you could answer. I have called to inform you that your tournament position has been changed at the request of President Turner."

I swallow loudly and then say back,

"Well, may I ask what that entails?"

There is a pause and then the man replies,

"I apologize for the suddenness of this change, but you have been moved into the senior category of the competition. You also have been seeded as the last place and will premiere in the second fight today. I recommend you go get ready for it ASAP."

I swear and reply,

"Sure fucking thing man. Thank you for letting me know, have a good day."

I quickly hang up and pay after stuffing my face with my fried cheese. I burn myself on the fresh food and book it to my dorm. I quickly change into my pilot's uniform and without putting anything over it I hurry to the hangar. I make it there in record time and find Liberty standing under Wendigo as the mechanics finish polishing it. She turns around as I hurry towards her. She then says to me,

"I felt it only fair to your opponents you get moved to the highest age group. Remember mike, these people are spoiled rich kids, not veterans. Please don't kill anyone."

I cuss at her as I pass and climb the ladder to my entry hatch. I slide down the hole and sit in my chair. I take a deep breath and kick the pedal. The pain shoots across my entire body as usual and my vision goes black. As systems come online I try to get an understanding of how much time I have left.

[woah there partner. Cool your jets. What's going on?]

(sorry but Liberty just fucking put us with the seniors of the academy.)

[Fuck]

(I know. Anything new ?)

[Oh yeah I figured out how to regenerate the shields at a moderate pace, just don't get hit, please. I also figured out how to get a little more from our legs to help us move a little quicker. That's all. This thing is very simple. I recommend using everything at our disposal.]

(understood. Can you pull up when my match is?)

[yeah, about ten minutes. The guys before us are having a dick measuring contest.]

( I see. Well let's rock and roll.)

[Agreed.]

I ignore the comms hails from Liberty as I stride over her. I find the path I am to follow and head there. I am directed through an underground tunnel that leads to the stadium. It's a minute walk due to the huge strides I take. I finally make it to a bullpen of sorts. It's just a holding area for the next combatants. I step onto the elevator which I am directed to by a staff AMS. The bullpen is empty except for me and the staff. I guess there are either multiple bullpens or maybe my opponent is a no-show? I hope the latter.

I steel my nerves. My adrenaline slowly seeps into my veins. I control my breathing and heart rate. I get rid of my battle jitters truly ready for a fight. I rack the slide of my autocannon and do a quick diagnostic of Wendigo. Everything is as it should. A total of two hundred and forty rounds are available to me. My grenade pistol has twenty total available. My knives are all there, and the wrist blades are sharp and ready to spring. I am ready. Suddenly the ground starts to move as there is loud cheering above. The ceiling breaks apart revealing sunlight. It's go time.

The elevator stops and I find myself inside the stadium. The floor is made of durable concrete which has scorch marks covering it. The walls are about ten meters tall around the edges and I can see a bright blue translucent shield protecting the crowd from stray fire. I take a quick once around seeing the roaring crowd. I turn off my audio receptors to silence the roar. I don't need any distractions.

Across from me, I see my opponent. The AMS they are piloting stands a solid eight to nine meters in height but is built in a lanky manner. It overall is far more masculine in shape with fairly bulky arms and legs. I should expect some impressive strength from this foe. I don't see any obvious ranged weapons so maybe it is a melee-focused AMS.

Last night I did some research on AMS types in the arena. There are actually a few types. First being the ranger class which are usually fast and lightweight doing most of their damage from a distance. The next are the fencers which use swords or other melee weapons to great effect. Swords are the most popular. Then there are the brawlers which are generally super tough and durable but only use their AMS as a weapon like fists and other things. The last type are the hybrids which are the rarest as it is difficult to create a true multi-role. If I remember correctly hybrids fill every single category to great effect. They are also notoriously hard to pilot apparently.

Looking at my opponent's hip I take a guess that they are a fencer type considering they have a large sword hanging there limply. It looks to be physical in nature but with the technology of now, I cannot assume it is just a regular sword made of regular metal. The enemy AMS has a blank face just like Seraphina's but instead has the roman numerals for seventeen. The paint scheme is dark black or gray with shimmering white details. It looks really cool. Plus the armor encasing the main structure looks very similar to a fantasy knight's armor making it look like a really cool space knight.

I am suddenly pinged with a hard transmission and answer it. It is the announcer for the fight doing the pre-fight speech.

"Welcome back everyone! We are back for the second bout of the academy ranking tournament. Today we have something special for you all. Our rather dull and unimpressive-looking challenger today is actually a freshman at the academy rather than a senior which this round of the tournament is for. Apparently, the president of the academy wanted them to participate at the senior level for some unknown reason. I just hope they give us a good show today.

Now! are you all ready to meet our fighters? Okay! Lets do it. Standing on the north side of the arena is the second-ranked senior, hailing from the Solar Empire, Lord Ruben Lyons, in his AMS The Star. He is clearly a crowd favorite for this bout with his brilliant and very chivalrous-looking AMS.

Standing in the south of the arena is our freshman challenger, from here in the USA on earth, the lowest-ranked fighter in the entire academy, it is Mike Richardson, piloting his archaic-looking AMS Wendigo. I wonder what kind of fighter this will be. This is a never-before-seen fighter armed with what looks to be ballistic weaponry. Who knows? Maybe they don't make 'em like they used too and this will be a very interesting fight.

Alright! We have our fighters. We know their names. Now let us begin the fight!. Lets begin the countdown!"

I disconnect from the communication as a large number ten appears on the shield surrounding the arena. It then begins to count down. when suddenly I get a new communication. I see that it is from my opponent. I answer it and start with,

"Come to gloat or to wish me luck?"

The male on the other end laughs and replies,

"I came to wish luck to you. I really commend the bravery to face an upperclassman in a fight like this. I hope you will fight to your greatest extent because I will give my all this fight. Again good luck my opponent."

His voice is pretty friendly and has no sarcasm or superiority to it. This guy cares about the competition. I reply,

"Good luck to you too."

I see his AMS nod and I return the gesture as we disconnect. The number one flashes across the shield before a big 'GO!' shows up. I begin circling slowly to my right gun raised and aimed directly at his head. He slowly draws his sword and I watch it ripple with unearthly energies. It shines even in the daylight and I see white lightning dance across its surface. As I thought, that sword is really cool. I stop my movement as he points the blade at me. I know this as a challenge to melee, but I am not retarded. I squeeze the trigger and let four shells fly. As the fireballs lash out I see in between fashes he is approaching rapidly. I barely have time to duck as the big weapon swings over my head. I feel the energy radiating off the blade as it misses by inches.

I roll to the side and fire off another short burst. I watch in horror as he simply dodges the rounds, but I also notice he was already moving in evasive maneuvers before I fired. It's not an uncanny dodge, it's actually me being stupid not considering how fast he is moving. I dodge another strike and it lightly touches my shoulder armor. The light tap causes a jump of sparks and I get a damage report of a one-inch-deep gash forming on the armor. I feel the burning pain. I see now his sword can just easily just ignore armor ripping it open as if it were tissue paper.

On his recoil from the attack, I lash out with my left hand. I feel a solid connection and feel the metal of his armor crack under my fist. Just as I thought. The Solar Empire has really hard and heat resistant materials, but the downside to that is they have no malleability on their armor which results in their armor shattering under blunt force trauma and HE weaponry. In the war, it also meant spalling of armor resulted in easy pilot kills.

My opponent leaps backward having felt the shock of the attack through his entire frame. I hit him good and solid, I can see a slight depression in his armor from where I hit. I bring my gun to bear and compensate for his probable movement. When he begins moving again I fire leading him correctly. He did exactly the same evasive maneuvers as before making all five of my shots hit. Although I scored my hits the 25MM high explosive rounds are really quite small. I see armor crack but his charge is not deterred. I go to dodge but his offhand grabs my gun stopping me. I throw the cannon into his blade letting go just in time to fall backward. I watch as my bushmaster is sliced clean in half. I roll away and draw my knife from my hip.

He recovers from the charge and gets into an actual fighting stance. I also notice his blade has stopped glowing. He is showing me that he doesn't care about the win. He wants to have a fight. I decided to give him what he wants.

I move in with savage attacks with my knife causing him to go on the defensive. I don't plan to win this way, I just need an opening. He easily defects all my attacks away but I am quickly getting closer. Since he is piloting his AMS rather than being connected to it he clearly has some input lag when it comes to his defense. The speed of his AMS is the only thing keeping me from hitting him. That and his superior reach. During one of my attacks I feel like I hit nothing and fall forward slightly. I see my knife blade fall to the ground in front of me. It is clearly shorn off. I look up to see my opponent raising his sword now glowing with energy again. I guess he got tired and decided to finish this. I have no time to retreat. Instead, I decide on a very stupid decision.

I dive for his ankle. I push my shoulder hard into the AMS shin. I hear some metal popping and groaning under the strain but drive my feet forward. His AMS starts to fall backward as he brings his blade down. I feel the sword hit me solidly in the side. There is no important damage but the pain is immense. I wince and let out a small groan but I drive forward still. I reach with my other arm and grab his far ankle from behind finalizing the takedown. He falls backward with no grace as he cannot react fast enough.

When he is on the ground I grab the arm which holds his sword. His AMS is far stronger than mine but there is one issue with mechanical bodies. The joints are nowhere near as flexible or durable. Strength means nothing if the structure exerting the force is broken. I throw my legs over the top of the opposing AMS arm and secure my feet on its chest. I thrust my hips upwards on the elbow to finish the armbar.

There is a horrible metallic shrieking before there is a sickening pop as the metal joint and all its servos and hydraulics are destroyed in full. I release the armbar and stand up quickly stomping on the wrist holding the sword. I watch as the metal joint is also destroyed from the unarmored anterior of his wrist. The sword is dropped as my opponent slowly brings his AMs to its feet. I tighten up into a striking stance and prepare for a fight. My opponent rips off his AMS' broken arm at the destroyed joint before picking up the sword with his offhand. I feel myself smile. I may have been thrust into this fight against my will but man am I having fun.

I then begin my onslaught. I rush in hard and fast keeping myself tight and begin throwing punches into the head of his AMS. Although the pilot is not inside the head of most AMS types, it tends to house all the sensory devices. When the head is destroyed it usually leads to a defeated opponent as they have no way to see. There are some exceptions, but this doesn't seem to be one.

With thunderous crashes, my heavy fists slam into the metal head of my opponent. The armor once nearly impenetrable now becoming shattered and useless as I continue the strikes. My punches aren't as strong as I'd like because of the height difference but the effect is still brutal. I eventually stop my attacks s the opponent staggers away. I feel a throbbing pain in my back and check to see I took a few defensive hits from his remaining arm. I kept inside his elbow so his attacks had little to no power so the damage is minor denting and paint being scraped off.

I then decide to finish the fight. I move in again just as hard and dodge an attempted attack. His speed is impressive but his reaction time is so far behind mine he cannot defend or attack in this type of fighting. This is my domain now, and the fight is mine. With a jump and solid windup, I hit a brutal superman punch. There is a large display of sparks and a horrible grinding sound and his AMS goes over and its head falls limply to the side having been nearly torn off. I go over and kneel over my fallen opponent and grab the head and finish the decapitation by grabbing it and ripping it free.

I stand up as a loud buzzer sounds across the arena and a new communication comes to me. I answer it and the announcer is speaking again,

"WOW! What an amazing display folks! Such skilled and brutal fighting. This is the reason why I began announcing these matches, just to see such cool fights like these. So onto the results. With ten second before the match is over, the freshman newcomer Mike Richardson has won his match over the second-ranked senior by knockout. Give him a round of applause and now a word from our champion. Mike! you're on an open mike. What have you to say."

I recoil at the sudden opportunity but say this,

"Well, I don't have much to say except my opponent was very skilled and if I hadn't done exactly what I did there I would have lost. I guess that's all I got to say... I mean, you saw how good he was, and I wish him the best of luck in his future fights."

I nod once and start to head to the elevator as the crowd cheers. I feel joy in my heart. I did fight hard and worked hard to win. There was no mistake, no cheat, and no divine help. I did what was needed and won. That honestly feels great. Despite my initial apprehension to start my fight, I now feel ready to go and defeat anyone who stands in my way.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The elevator goes down slowly as the bright light of the sun fades. I suddenly get a popup in my vision of a huge text of technical jargon.

[Hey! I figured out how that sword worked. I'm working on my active learning abilities where I can on the fly break down enemy tech and whatnot... Hopefully, I can do it quicker in the future now.]

(Okay cool, but you go quiet during the fights?)

[Yeah I don't wanna distract you. Plus I'm already handling information processing and sending it to you directly. It greatly reduces the load on your brain, especially with all the weird tech Kassandra put in here.]

(Okay, thank you. How does that sword work? I am not reading this shit.)

[Dont blame ya. It's nothing to me because I am kinda a supercomputer. In short it uses super powerful energy flowing through the sword that in a sense makes the atoms spit aside. Parting them like the red sea. It's a weird magnet thing, any atom with electrons is thrust away from the blade making it effortlessly cleave through any, if not most materials]

(That's pretty badass. I hope I can get to use a cool weapon like that.)

[Me too. Shits wack you]

I laugh as I dock Wendigo in a new area. It's right under the stadium and it has my name in big glowing letters above the station. I attach it to the clamps and charging cable. I quickly run a final diagnostic before leaving. Turns out I'm far more damaged than I thought. Lots of paint was stripped from rolling on the concrete. Steel armor bent out of shape from any form of the bumps. Composite armor cracked from the extreme forces applied, and finally, my knuckles are bent to hell from my brutal punches. I have Wendigo take notes and ask for improvement on knuckle strength and to ask for a new 25mm autocannon to replace the one destroyed. I unlink from Wendigo as my vision flashes white as I feel my nervous system be effectively ripped from my body again.

I get off the chair and shimmy out my little hatch. I actually have an elevator from my AMS this time as this docking area is super nice. Extremely well-built machinery and computer systems. The mechanics begin hurriedly working on Wendigo as I head from the hangar. I get on an elevator when a tall dark-haired man enters next to me. He has some scrapes and bruises on his exposed skin. Other than that he makes me feel inadequate by how handsome he is. I'm into girls but I will admit this dude looks very good.

He looks over at me and smiles holding out his hand and says in a familiar voice,

"Good match. I had not expected you to win."

I take his hand and respond,

"I didn't expect to win either. The names Mike."

He laughs and replies,

"Lord Ruben Lyons. I was surprised at your piloting skill out there.I had no chance once my reach advantage was taken away. What class is your AMS I honestly couldn't get a read on it."

I think for a moment and shrug,

"I think hybrid. I mean it has no true classification. It's one of a kind. It does what I ask and what I need for it to do. So hybrid is my best guess."

He nods in reply and the elevator stops and we both step out.

"It was very nice meeting you, Mike. Thank you for the honor of fighting you. I hope we can talk again, and in more depth, but I have business to attend to. I hope you win, I'd hate to lose to a loser. Good Luck."

I nod and reply,

"Thank you, and I will win. Good luck to you too."

He smiles before walking off. I feel happy again at his sportsmanship. He clearly only cares about the fight, none of the surrounding nobility, and whatnot. Someone who I could consider a friend if given the chance.

I check my handheld and get a notification telling me my next match is the last for today at nine in the evening. I shrug and decide to go get some lunch when suddenly I get a call. I answer and hear cheering over the phone from the background as Liberty says,

"WHOOO HOOO! Good Job Mike, as I expected. Get your ass over here to the big tower in the main square. I'll have someone come get you from there."

She hangs up before I respond. I try to rationalize a reason not to go but decide since it's a party there probably is good food. I begin heading in that direction when I pass a group of fellow freshmen. I hear them say some pointed words towards me and one even spits in my general direction. I ignore them and keep walking. Probably lost them some betting money.

I make it to the tower when a fair-looking lady calls out to me. She half-drags me along into an elevator and sends me to the top of the tower. When the surprisingly quick elevator stops I step out into a very lavish bar room. There are only faculty members in the room from what I can tell. All older men and women. I feel out of place as I head towards the cheering, hearing Libertys voice. I get stares as I go past, but they aren't mean, in fact, they seem congratulatory. A few of the men nod in my direction as I walk. I keep my confident stride as I walk helping my head high and posture straight despite my awkwardness. I proceed to parade march all the way to the far room.

I step through the threshold and am greeted by cheers and I feel a powerful arm wrap across my back. It's of course Dusty but she is very clearly hammered on some clear fluid. She grabs my far shoulder and congratulates me in her own drunken way. Before she can begin complementing me she is pulled off and told to sit down before apparently,

"You molest the poor boy"

With that statement, I feel a little bit of fear. Liberty then addresses me and says,

"Good job, and welcome to the officers club. This is the faculty hangout on campus and because of you we faculty owe you a little."

I look at her confused and ask,

"What for?"

She shakes her head and explains,

"Our academy has a problem with the clubs and cliques. The clubs and battlegroups kinda hold most if not all power on campus. The seniors at the head of course. You are our weapon against this. I know you are an ace pilot so who else to knock them down a peg. A freshman beating the best of the academy. This shits gonna show them who's boss!"

I nod along and reply,

"So that's why you put me out there with no warning."

She nods and I sigh and ask,

"Regardless you interrupted my lunch with that. Is there any food here?"

Her eyes go wide for a moment before saying,

"Oh my God. I'm sorry I forgot to tell you to help yourself. Even to the booze, no one cares here. Eat and drink to your heart's content. So long as you are able to win your second match of today."

I nod and head to the table set out with lots of fancy-looking foods. There isn't a theme. It's just lots of different choices. I pile my plate with various meats and asparagus and sit down at one of the tables with a bottle of soda. I start to eat when I feel some sudden weight on my arm. I look over to see a woman in her later thirties with blonde hair and light blue eyes. Her build is tall and long. This lets me know this woman is an imperial to some degree. Judging from her inability to stand by herself requiring her leaning on me, she is already shitfaced during lunch.

I just smile and she starts speaking incoherently for a few moments getting a good look at me. She then says to me,

"You look familiar to me... not... not because of class or nothin... you look like somebody I knew back in my army days...you the lieutenants' kid? Nah...That fucker died back when..."

She suddenly falls to the floor and I stop her head from bouncing on the tile. Another teacher collects her and sets her up in a chair next to Dusty who is staring blankly at a wall clearly blacking out. I enjoy my lunch in peace no one bothering me the whole time. I don't know how to feel now. In all honesty, I feel used again. I'm a pawn in a much bigger game. I don't get why people feel the need to use me like this, but I guess that's life.

Eventually, I get bored watching the matches on the television and stand up leaving back to my dorm. I don't have a match until a few more hours. I think I will take a nap. Either that or lie there staring at the ceiling trying to not think. I am not stopped from leaving nor does anyone mention my leaving. I guess I was only invited just to let me in on the plan. Once I step outside I get a shiver up my spine. It's not cold, in fact, it is incredibly nice out, yet there is a sour feeling. I don't know what but it's a feeling I know I've felt before but I can't put my finger on it.

I make it to my dorm running into nobody the entire time. This I also see as odd but considering how loud the stadium is, It's easy to believe everyone is holded up watching the fights somewhere. I enter the villa and when I get to my hallway I see someone I don't recognize. They are standing in front of Seraphina's door waiting patiently. What really strikes me as odd is the clothes. They are not in nobility clothes nor are they in school clothes. The uniform looks vaguely like a staff uniform but it looks wrong. Maybe a maintenance worker? I haven't seen too many of them around yet, so maybe the plumbers on staff wear a less costly uniform. Getting closer it is clear it is a poor reconstruction of the uniform. Why?

As I approach the person notices me and gives a half-smile with a nod in a very casual manner. This is not a staff member. The staff at the academy, from what I know of current societal norms, do not act casual with students or teachers. The staff are like castle servants. Loyal, quiet, and always formal, even if it annoys the hell out of me. Either this guy is pulling a very odd prank, or he is trying, and failing to deceive people into thinking he is one of the staff. I approach and casually say,

"What's up? Toilet broken or something?"

He shifts his weight slightly and replies,

"I wasn't told what needed fixing. Just that something was broke."

I keep walking towards my room at a casual pace.

"I see, well you seem to be lacking tools to fix stuff ain't ya? I got some in my room if you need help."

He shakes his head. His expression looking a little upset and his eyes showing him in quick and difficult thought,

"Yeah, I was thinking about checking it out before I got the toolbox out. I don't like carrying everything if I don't have to."

I nod and reply,

"I see. Good idea. The problem is, the occupant won't be back for a while. She's watching the fights. Go and talk to someone in housing or security to get inside if you need to."

I am now getting quite close and he is getting nervous. I have him on the ropes. He says back to me shakily,

"Yeah. I probably should've done that. I just didn't want to bother them. Ya know? "

I am now very close and we stand about even height but I am much broader. I also see the bulge of a concealed weapon on his right hip. Which he is currently reaching towards slowly. Clearly no intent to use it. Yet. I just keep my friendly demeanor and then say to him,

"Well, tough luck buddy. Check back later. You'll have better luck. Just remember. If there is any problem I am next door."

The last part is said in a manner that shows I know he isn't a staff member. I pass him as he straightens up getting tense as he is found out. As I pass him he quickly hurries out of the building. I don't know what that was about but was not good at all. I return to my room and write on a small piece of paper the description of the man and gave a quick summary of what happened. I slide it under Seraphinas door and then go lie down in my bed. I have my handheld set an alarm for an hour before my fight. I close my eyes and find sleep come to me quickly. I need the rest...I have to fight...well...

I wake up to the blaring alarm and go to my fight. To my surprise and delight, the fight is easy as can be. The enemy was piloting a production model ranged class and my new bushmaster made short work of his armor. The fight ends by knockout again to the crowds' loud cheers and the announcers' enthusiasm. After the fight, I go get some supper and return home.

The rest of the week went as such. Easy fights due to my opponents using stock designs and models. This makes each fight predictable and boring. Their armor shatters under the small high explosive and their weapons are ineffective against my shields and heavy armor. Against brawlers, I am able to defeat easily through either grappling or through precise punches. The fencers are more difficult but usually, I am able to take out their legs before they can do much harm. To be honest. I feel invincible.

Then comes the last day of the senior tournament. I have my semi-final match coming up in a few minutes. Wendigo just got finished being polished and checked over dozens of times. I sit in my chair and push the pedal becoming one with the huge metal body. All systems and mechanical parts are good to go and online. My gun is clean and ammo non-corroded. Things are looking up. All that I have to worry about now is my opponent. I don't know what they pilot, or how. All I know it isn't a production model. It's one of the custom types that mean trouble.

[Here's to hoping for another victory. We got this. Just keep our head low and mind clear]

(Yeah. That should be about right. Can't help but feel jittery.)

[That's normal. Just let them run their course and then ignore them. It's only natural.]

(Yeah... Lets do this. Lets kick some ass)

[Hell yeah!]

I pull back the heavy slide and it flies back forward with a satisfying clang. I step onto the elevator and ascend into the light above to the thunderous crowd. I silence them to keep my thoughts collected. I don't need distractions. Across from me, entering the arena is an imperial design AMS. It stands like usual a little taller than me. This time I notice an absolutely massive amount of visible weaponry. I count six, of what look like cannons on this thing. Two on each shoulder and one on each wrist. This thing is absolutely brimming with weaponry.

(Can you get any read on those big guns?)

[No...No heat signature so I'm guessing they are not plasma. Expect kinetic at worst. ]

(Okay, Thanks...)

This AMS is very drab in coloration. Mostly grays with a little off-white. It has a blank face with the roman numerals for eight on it. I do take note it looks rather unarmored. It probably relies on its big guns to take me out before I can do anything. Considering they probably watched my matches they know I am quite dangerous at close range.

The announcer goes through his usual spiel as I do diagnostics and help Wendigo set things up for worst-case scenarios. I only listen when my opponent is introduced,

"....of the Solar Empire, piloting the AMS called Justice. Now fighters our fighters have been introduced..."

I swear realizing the meanings of the numbers, just like the star from earlier this week and Seraphina's AMS. They are named after the major tarot arcana. I swear at myself for not realizing it earlier. I'm not that well versed in that kind of stuff but a simple naming scheme like that? I should've figured it out. The problem is, Justice doesn't tell me anything about potential weaponry.

The countdown nears its end and I tense up getting ready for sudden violence. I pull up my thermal imaging function and keep it in a corner of my vision. I see no temperature changes. The opponent doesn't move but I can see very well that the four shoulder guns are aimed right for me.

(shields to full)

[way ahead of you.]

The time hits one and the buzzer sounds. Four lances of bright red light appear from the four barrels and are stopped by the shield. I fire some rounds downrange and they are shot from the sky by the lasers. This is gonna be interesting. Whatever this AMS is. It has a very good targeting system. The lasers for what it's worth, while powerful don't damage my shield too much, but I don't wanna just sit still and take it. I dance and dodge slowly trying to get closer. I fire small bursts now and again to attempt to get a hit, but none are so far successful. I know the only reason my rounds are getting stopped is that they are HE and the lasers are detonating the explosive filler. If I had AP rounds I would have had an easy kill.

The opponent suddenly starts moving as well. but its targeting remains perfect for the shoulder mounts. The speed at which it moves is horrifying. It only moves to escape my approaching form.

[Listen up. Keep it moving. Those lasers lose a bunch of power when that thing is moving. I'm guessing it has to sacrifice energy in proportion to movement and weaponry.]

(Okay, will do. Just keep those beams from our skin)

I change my course and make it far more direct. The opposing AMS speeds up but the lasers almost stop registering as hits against the shields. Wendigo must have also noticed this as he begins letting the weak beams hit us. They barely feel like pinches on the skin. From the diagnostics screen, they aren't even stripping the paint.

Now I begin firing rapidly and accurately. I see the shells splash against the dull figure causing its lightweight from to shudder and eventually trip and nearly fall. I see my chance and speed up to get into melee range. It then aims the arm-mounted guns at me. It is also now stationary. Two green lights flash at the barrel as I feel searing pain in my left arm and in my chest, just barely missing my fleshy body. The holes are clean through, and my shield generator has been effectively rendered useless. I dive for the ground and fire back but each round it is intercepted by the shoulder weapons.

I start rolling dodging the precise shots. The green lasers are clearly manually aimed so they don't touch me, but the auto-aim of the red ones scorch my body and cut deep holes in my armor. I feel some synthetic muscle get cooked thoroughly and a few probably important cables be cut through. I dip and dodge avoiding the most extreme damage. I find myself barely keeping myself together as I am slowly cut apart bit by bit. Death by a thousand cuts is what my current experience is. I then remember something. Lasers are just light. I then begin my final desperate maneuver.

I charge forward ignoring the damage from the red lasers as they do most superficial damage while dodging the big green ones the best I can. I take multiple hard hits to exterior armor plating but keep my pace with brutal determination while my body wails in agony. I get close to where the green lasers cannot miss just like before and my foe aims for my torso. I then deploy countermeasures. The gray cloud of smoke explodes forth as the laser is either stopped by the thick smoke or is dispersed to the point of harmlessness. My opponent jets backward running from my charge but soon hits the back wall, but they are out of the smoke. They prepare for a final attack. When they fire I take two major hits tearing through my legs and nearly incapacitating me. I finish my charge with a brutal shoulder check. I feel their metal frame shatter under the freight-train level of impact. Their arms which were caught between us are instantly scrapped and the laser weapons attached are made useless. I take a step back and grab the shoulder-mounted weapons and rip them off.

This leaves my opponent defenseless. They fall forward onto the ground as the buzzer sounds at the end of the round. Apparently, the pilot inside has passed out. I raise a fist in the air and slowly limp back to the hangar on nearly destroyed legs. That was a horrible experience. I dock myself and disconnect. When I do I let out an agonized scream and curl into a ball on the floor of my AMS. I sit there in pain for a few moments letting out pained groans and whimpers. Eventually, the pain subsides as my body realizes it is not actually covered in tiny little holes burned through it. At this, I wipe my eyes and climb from my AMS. The maintenance people give me side glances with looks of worry. They heard me and I feel a little embarrassed. I don't expect them to understand, but I don't want to worry them. I quickly rush to my dorm. The final match is later tonight at seven. The prime-time match. I lie down to rest for the next five hours to recover mentally.

I wonder how this is a sport. I get it no one else is piloting like me so it is far less painful in comparison, but my opponent was knocked out despite being in their own AMS. These things arent small little battlesuits from sci-fi. They are multiple-ton AFVs designed to kill. One wrong attack, one slightly missed shot and someone dies. Those lasers barely missed my human body. I would've instantly died from some of those attacks. I even thought in the middle of the battle, how me just having a solid-shot shell loaded in my cannon, that opponent would have died easily. Hell Seraphina almost died because of a reactor overload. I get having a standing army without actually having one, but still. This is absolutely insane. Death faces us, pilots, around every corner for any reason. This is insane.

During my contemplation, there is a light knock at my door. I slide off my bed and nearly fall over. I am covered in a cold sweat. I didn't realize how much this way of thinking bothered me. It is only sane that it does. Death, especially painful death isn't something I really would enjoy. I head to the door after wiping my brow and righting myself quickly. I open the door slightly still not sure if I am right yet. On the other side of the door is Dusty who looks really concerned. I politely greet her and ask,

"...So how can I help you?"

She shakes her head and then says,

"I was in the hangar when you came in. I'm checking on ya. Those screams...they were haunting... what the hell was that about?"

I open the door fully and shake my head solemnly and lie,

"I was just a little spooked. You saw I nearly got cored there. Imagine in an instant a two-inch diameter hole appears next to your head. Wouldn't you be quite afraid?"

I give a nervous chuckle,

"As tough as I look and act, I'm really just a massive pansy. I can't handle that level of scary shit ya know?"

She nods along not buying it. I finish talking and she stands there a moment before I feel two muscular arms wrap around my body. She had rushed forward before I could react and gave me a tight hug pulling me in close. I don't fight it as I get an overwhelming feeling. I can't put it in words. It's not something cringey like love or anything. It's just comfort. Even though I've only known her for a few months I feel kinda at peace. I realize now... I've been so completely touch starved. The only time I've had human physical contact was during hand-to-hand training so to doesn't really count. I feel a sinking feeling in my gut but keep it there. Dusty then says,

"I'll take your word for it, but screams like that aren't normal. That's the sound of someone who is in such utter agony that death is a mercy. I don't know why or really care why you would scream like that, but please... just let me know if you need a hug ever for it. I may seem tough and rough but I know some kindness like this can fix a lot of issues."

She releases me from her vice and I look down at her with a half-smile and say,

"Thank you for that Dusty. I didn't realize I needed that."

She smiles and calls me some bad words as she walks off as if nothing were wrong. I return back to my bed and relax, now at ease. Only a single thing left in my mind.

Why was I so scared of dying? I was in a war, I know fearing death is normal even for soldiers, but being reduced to a shaking mess? That shouldn't be normal, but I cant remember any event I nearly died in? What is wrong with me?

I lie in bed for hours thinking about this. The main point I ask myself. Who am I, and if I am me, then why do I not have any memories or recollections of myself?