Cheng slowly entered the city zone, his body tense, instincts sharp—his occupation demanded it.
The area had already been ravaged. Combat robots lay strewn across the streets, shattered. The other students had clearly been through here. Many of the villain bots—designated No.1—had been destroyed. Some still crawled, damaged but not yet dead, surviving only by clustering in desperate packs.
The stronger students had bulldozed through… but even they had their limits. Most had been defeated or were locked in struggling battles against the more advanced No.2s.
Cheng walked with steady, measured steps. His eyes scanned everything. At one point, he bent down to grab a piece of scrap metal to use as a weapon—but as fate would have it, something better clattered to the ground right in front of him.
It was another applicant—a girl. Her arms bore four metal, feather-like protrusions. She launched several of them at a No.3 bot lunging toward her, most embedding shallowly into its armored hide. One of her feather-blades, knocked loose in the chaos, landed near Cheng.
He caught it mid-air.
No hesitation.
He assumed a neutral stance. The large, turtle-like robot growled—if metal could growl—its cluster of red-glowing eyes scanning him. Decorative, meaningless. It lunged forward, swinging a massive arm in a wide arc.
Cheng sidestepped.
His blade sliced downward, cutting through a softer joint in the No.3's structure. Sparks flew. The arm went limp, useless.
He reset his stance, silent, composed.
The bot roared again and advanced, preparing for another strike.
Cheng shifted to counter, but—too late.
The massive limb swept forward faster than his mundane body could react.
Wham.
It swatted him like a fly.
His body skidded across the pavement, steel scraping flesh. It hurt like hell. But Cheng didn't stay down.
He rose, bruised but unwavering, and rushed the metal beast.
Blade clashed against steel—over and over. Precise slashes. Fluid movement. His arms moved on instinct now, hacking and carving and deflecting.
For what felt like an eternity, he danced with the monster.
And finally—finally—his blade found something critical buried inside its mainframe. A soft spot.
The beast shut down.
He stood there for a moment, panting, blood pounding in his ears. Then he turned toward the girl, reaching out a hand to help her up.
But there was no one there.
Only empty air.
His fair maiden had run.
Cheng blinked. Then shrugged. A small hiccup. A moment of embarrassment.
He resumed his patrol.
A few more No.1 bots came his way—easy prey now. He cut them down effortlessly. His luck, it seemed, was holding.
Until it wasn't.
Two more No.3s emerged from the ruins—closing in.
And behind them… something worse.
The No.0 unit had been released.
It was heading straight toward him.
He was trapped.
He swung his blade in a clean arc, slicing one No.3's arm clean off. Not a fluke—just the realistic result of sustained damage and accumulated wear.
He twisted and stabbed the other bot through the chest. It staggered—but before it could fall, its remaining arm slammed into him with inhuman force.
He'd been holding on—barely. But now…
Crack.
Something gave.
Cough. Cough.
He dropped to one knee, blood spurting from his mouth in sharp bursts.
His vision blurred, everything fading into hazy light.
His grip loosened.
He was slipping. His body shutting down.
The tremors in the ground grew louder—the No.0 drawing closer.