File: Clone.drone.in.the.danger.zone.v1.3.1.37.... «PREMIUM × SERIES»

The arena smelled of ozone and hot oil. I blinked my optical sensors, adjusting to the bright, neon-soaked coliseum. My legs felt heavy, articulated hydraulic joints hissing with every tentative step I took.

After surviving the first five waves of basic swordsmen and archers, I was granted access to the Upgrade Room. This was the only moment of peace in the Danger Zone. A blue tractor beam pulled me up into a pristine, white laboratory. File: Clone.Drone.in.the.Danger.Zone.v1.3.1.37....

In my right hand, a laser sword buzzed with violent energy. Across the checkered floor of the arena, a port opened. Out stepped a Archer-1 unit. It raised its bow, the red targeting laser dot painting a bright circle right on my chest plate. The arena smelled of ozone and hot oil

"Welcome, Human 402, to your new life!" a booming, synthetic voice echoed from the massive floating screen above. It was the Emperor’s main commentator, a massive floating bot with a penchant for cruel sarcasm. "You have been upgraded! Try not to get sliced in half in the first ten seconds. The crowd hates a short show." After surviving the first five waves of basic

The human mind is a fragile thing, but a human mind uploaded into a sword-wielding robot is practically indestructible. Or so the galactic arena promoters want you to believe.

I had survived twenty waves. I was missing an arm, my chassis was scorched black, and my optical sensors were flickering. But I was still standing.