VZZZT.

  The mana-cannon fired before the announcer finished the word "BEGIN."

  A bolt of concentrated kinetic force shot across the arena. To the ten thousand students watching, it looked like a direct hit.

  BOOM.

  Dust and sand exploded where Amari had been standing.

  "And it's over!" Prince Caelum laughed from the front row, holding a sign that read SCRAP THE GLITCH.

  But as the dust settled, the crater was empty.

  "Where did he go?" Cadet Thorne’s voice crackled through the Golem, confused.

  The Titan’s head swiveled, red sensors scanning for a heat signature.

  [Targeting System: SEARCHING...] [Targeting System: NO THERMAL SIGNATURE DETECTED.]

  Amari was already moving. He wasn't running in a straight line; he was sprinting in a low crouch, weaving through the Golem's blind spots.

  He was a ghost.

  He slid through the sand, closing the distance. Fifteen feet. Ten feet.

  The Titan’s sensors finally caught the motion of the sand.

  "There you are!" Thorne shouted.

  The Titan swung a massive metal arm, a backhand strike meant to pulverize bone.

  Amari didn't block. He remembered Idris’s lesson: You cannot out-harden titanium.

  Amari dropped to his knees. The metal fist sailed inches above his head, the wind pressure whipping his locs back.

  He slid between the Golem’s legs.

  The Exhaust Port, Amari thought. Two feet. Suicide range.

  He popped up directly behind the machine. The heat from the cooling vents blasted him in the face, searing his skin, but he didn't flinch.

  The Titan spun around, confused, its servos whining. It couldn't see him.

  Amari looked at the back of the Golem’s knee joint.

  There it was. A thick cluster of hydraulic hoses protected by a heavy titanium plating.

  Most people would try to smash the plating. Amari looked at the bolts holding the plate in place.

  He grabbed the nearest bolt head with his right hand.

  [Technique: Iron Grip]

  His fingers, hardened by the boiler room torture, clamped down like a vice.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Torque."

  He didn't pull. He twisted.

  SCREECH.

  The sound of metal shearing tore through the arena. It sounded like a dying train. The bolt head snapped off.

  Amari grabbed the second bolt. Twist. Snap.

  The plating fell off, clattering onto the sand.

  [System Alert: Armor Breach Sector 4]

  Thorne panicked in the control booth. "Get off me!"

  The Titan tried to kick backward, but Amari was too close. He was clinging to the machine's leg like a parasite.

  With the plating gone, the hydraulic lines were exposed. They were thick, black rubber hoses pulsing with pressurized mana-fluid.

  Amari grabbed the main arterial line.

  "Let's see you walk without blood."

  He planted his feet on the Golem’s calf, braced his back against its thigh, and pulled.

  He engaged his entire posterior chain. The Breath of Iron flooded his muscles with oxygen. His veins bulged against his skin.

  RIP.

  The hose didn't just break; it exploded.

  Neon-blue mana fluid sprayed out like a geyser, coating Amari in slippery, glowing oil.

  The Titan lurched. The pressure in its left leg vanished instantly.

  [Critical Failure: Left Leg Hydraulics]

  The massive twelve-foot robot buckled. Its left knee gave out, and it crashed onto the sand with a tremor that shook the front row seats.

  The arena went silent.

  Amari jumped off the falling machine. He landed gracefully, wiping the blue oil from his eyes.

  The Titan tried to stand, but its left leg just dragged uselessly through the sand. It was a crippled giant.

  "You... you rat!" Thorne screamed over the speakers. "Fire everything!"

  The Titan, lying prone, aimed its shoulder cannon at Amari. At this range, he couldn't miss.

  Amari saw the mana gathering in the barrel. He was ten feet away. He couldn't dodge.

  So he didn't.

  He grabbed the detached titanium armor plate from the sand—a slab of metal as big as a shield.

  He held it up just as the cannon fired.

  BOOM.

  The kinetic blast hit the plate. The force was incredible. It pushed Amari backward, his boots carving deep trenches in the sand. His arms screamed under the impact. His bones vibrated.

  But they didn't break. Steel Bones.

  Amari deflected the blast upward.

  He dropped the smoking plate and sprinted. He jumped onto the chest of the prone Golem.

  He stood directly over the glowing red eye sensors.

  "Get off!" Thorne shrieked. The Titan’s remaining arm flailed, trying to swat him.

  Amari raised his fist. He didn't aim for the armor. He aimed for the Neck Joint—the ventilation gap Idris had pointed out.

  [Technique: Spear Hand]

  He drove his stiffened fingers into the gap.

  Crunch.

  He felt wires snap. He felt the delicate circuitry crunch. He grabbed a handful of electronics and ripped them out.

  The red eyes flickered once... and went dark.

  "System... Shut... Down..."

  The Titan groaned, and then went dead silent. The hum of the cannon died. The arm fell limp to the sand.

  Amari stood on top of the defeated machine. He was covered in blue oil and sweat. He looked up at the VIP box, directly at Dean Vance.

  He didn't smile. He didn't cheer.

  He simply pointed at the scoreboard like a teacher correcting a mistake.

  [Winner: Amari Malik] [Time: 45 Seconds]

  Amari hopped down from the wreckage and walked toward the exit tunnel.

  The crowd didn't boo this time. They didn't cheer, either. They were too busy staring at the dismantled heap of metal that used to be the Academy's strongest weapon.

  As Amari walked into the darkness of the tunnel, he heard a slow, solitary clap.

  He looked up.

  Standing near the tunnel entrance, leaning against the wall with a grin on his face, was Bronson.

  "Told you about the blind spot," Bronson said.

  "Told you about the breathing," Amari replied, not breaking stride