The surf roared as waves crashed against the beach. Sand stretched wide and flat, no cliffs, no cover. Just open ground under the harsh sun. Tessal already hated it.
"This time," Garp said, arms folded as always, "you fight me head-on."
Tessal flinched. "Head-on?! I can't—"
"Bwahaha!" Garp's laugh split the air. "That's the point, brat! No smoke, no walls, no tricks. Let's see if you can stand when the sea looks you dead in the eye!"
Tessal's fingers trembled as he pulled back a tarp he'd hauled to the shore. Beneath it, gleaming in the sun, stood his latest creation—Rend, a humanoid bugbot nearly Tessal's height. Its arms were sharp mantis-blades, its torso plated with thick beetle armor. The machine's eyes flared alive as Tessal flipped its activation switch.
"Rend—engage!"
The bot lunged forward, sand spraying behind it as the mantis arms scythed toward Garp. For a heartbeat, Tessal dared to hope. Then—
CRASH!
Garp caught one blade on his forearm, grinning, and shattered the other with a single punch. Metal clattered into the sand.
"Too brittle!" Garp barked.
Tessal's stomach dropped. He scrambled at his controls. "Rend—Modular Arms, reconfigure!"
The broken limb retracted with a hiss, its segments snapping apart. In its place, a whip-like chain of beetle-linked plates lashed out, wrapping around Garp's arm.
The Vice Admiral chuckled, tugging, but Tessal grit his teeth. "Pull back, Rend!"
The machine yanked, staggering Garp a single step. The old man's grin widened. "Hah! At least you're trying."
He reeled Rend in like a hooked fish and slammed his fist into its chest, sending the bot sprawling into the sand. Sparks flew.
Tessal's heart pounded. His machines were strong, but alone, they couldn't keep up with that kind of raw power. And if he kept hiding behind them… he'd never learn either.
His hand flew to his satchel. "Ironclads—deploy!"
The sand quivered as a dozen iron beetles, fist-sized and black as coal, scuttled out in unison. They climbed Tessal's arms, clicking and locking together. Plates fused across his chest and shoulders, sealing into a crude breastplate and gauntlets. His breathing grew shallow under the sudden weight, but for once, he felt armored.
Garp's eyes flicked toward him. "Oh? Joining the fight yourself, brat?"
Tessal clenched his fists, the Ironclad gauntlets groaning. "Y-yeah! I'm not… not gonna let Rend take the hits for me anymore!"
Garp's grin split wider. "Good! Let's see if you can swing harder than you squeak!"
He charged, sand exploding beneath his boots. Tessal panicked, but instead of freezing, he swung. The Ironclad gauntlet met Garp's forearm with a CLANG that sent shock up his arm. It barely slowed the old man, but Tessal stayed standing.
"Rend, assist!" Tessal shouted.
The bot scrambled back into the fight, its whip-arm snapping at Garp's legs. Tessal darted in with it, swinging with all the strength the Ironclads lent him. His blows were clumsy, his breath ragged—but for the first time, he wasn't hiding behind his machines. He was fighting with them.
Garp's fists thundered like cannonballs, but every time Tessal thought he'd be crushed, the Ironclads locked tighter, absorbing the impact. His bones still rattled, but he stood.
Minutes felt like hours. Sand flew, metal sparked, Tessal's arms screamed with each strike. At last, Garp landed a punch that sent both Tessal and Rend crashing into the surf. Water sprayed high, and Tessal gasped, struggling to get up, Ironclads clamped tight to his chest.
Garp loomed above them, hands on his hips, laughter booming over the waves. "Hah! You've got guts after all, brat! Machines can't teach you that—you had to learn it yourself."
Tessal coughed seawater, forcing himself to his knees. His body throbbed, but Rend stood beside him, one arm sparking but still ready. The Ironclads clicked faintly, almost like applause.
For the first time, Tessal managed a weak grin. "Guess… we're tougher together than I thought."
Garp's eyes gleamed with approval as he turned away. "Don't get cocky. This was just a warm-up. Tomorrow… you'll wish you were back on this beach."
The waves rolled in, cool and relentless, washing over Tessal's battered armor. He knew now—if he wanted to protect himself, his machines, and the people beside him—he couldn't just invent. He had to fight.