The door behind them slammed shut with a metallic thud heavy enough to feel like a coffin lid sealing.

  The darkness in front of them was so deep it devoured the last shred of neon light that had followed them inside.

  Nothing remained except the sound of wind—

  No.

  Not wind.

  The sound of metal rotor blades turning slowly in the dark.

  The metal floor vibrated in faint, rhythmic pulses, like the heartbeat of a machine that had slept too long and was now trying to awaken.

  Ten clung tightly to Z-69’s coat, his hand cold as ice.

  Lumina curled low, clinging to Z-69’s shoulder, ears standing rigid and alert.

  Z-69 didn’t speak.

  He only stood still for one second, letting his breath mix with the darkness before listening deeper.

  The smell of ozone.

  The smell of old machine oil.

  The faint chemical scent of unburned gunpowder.

  From the blank void of memory within his mind, Z-69 instantly recognized it.

  “Military drones.” Z-69 said without thinking.

  Ten shivered violently.

  “M–military… meaning the kind used to fight… people like you?”

  “More than that.”

  “If the information in my head is correct, these were built to eliminate ability users.” Z-69 answered.

  “These antiques still working? That’s damn possession-level creepy.” Lumina muttered.

  A red light blinked at the end of the hallway.

  Then dozens more lit up.

  A long row of ominous red bulbs glowed along the ceiling, revealing everything.

  The hallway was long and narrow, like a cannon aimed directly at hell.

  The walls on both sides were lined with hanging racks—inside them were spider-type drones, insect-type drones, spiral-blade drones…each one a deadly mechanical variant from the ancient war era.

  Some were rusted into deformed blocks of iron.

  But most remained intact.

  And they were waking up.

  A wall panel blinked to life.

  A distorted voice crackled like a dying man choking on wires:

  “Segment 3: Drone combat evaluation. Objective: eliminate intruding entity.”

  Lumina shivered, gripping Z-69’s hair tightly.

  “‘Entity’… it means you.”

  Z-69 shrugged.

  “Of course.”

  Targeting lasers shot out from dozens of mechanical eyes.

  Red dots locked onto each person.

  Ten: rank 1 – “low.”

  Lumina: rank 2 – “medium.”

  Z-69: rank MAX – flashing red warning.

  Ten squeaked:

  “It marked you as… top priority on the death list!”

  “These antiques are smarter than they look.” Z-69 said dryly.

  A series of click-click sounds echoed—the unmistakable sound of mechanisms arming, barrels rotating, systems locking on.

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

  Ten pressed himself against Z-69’s back, trembling so hard he nearly dropped Lumina.

  Lumina jumped down, her forehead crystal glowing like a tiny blue flame.

  “I’m ready. But don’t let them touch you, got it?!”

  Z-69 unsheathed the Heaven-Sundering Short Blade.

  Violet light flashed.

  All drones instantly rotated their heads toward him as if pulled by a gravitational force of pure killing intent.

  Then hell began.

  The first drone dropped—a spider-type machine with four high-frequency rotating blades.

  Z-69 only tilted his head slightly.

  The spinning blades missed his face by less than a centimeter.

  He swung his blade.

  A violet streak sliced the air.

  The drone split cleanly in half, smoking like overcooked meat.

  The moment the corpse hit the floor, three more drones fired at Z-69.

  Two launched spiral knives straight at Ten.

  One shot an electric web toward Lumina.

  Z-69 moved first.

  He reversed his grip, slashed two bullets apart, and deflected the third upward.

  Violet sparks burst and scorched the wall.

  He raised his left arm to block the spiral knife aimed at Ten.

  The blade dug into his skin—but couldn’t pierce the metal bone beneath.

  Ten screamed:

  “YOUR BACK—!!”

  Z-69 didn’t turn.

  He tilted his head backward.

  A drone dropped from the ceiling, aiming to impale his skull.

  The short blade swung upward.

  CRACK!

  The drone’s rotor shattered like glass petals.

  He kicked its corpse backward, sending it flying into two more drones mid-charge, throwing off their aim.

  Lumina used her psychic wave to deflect the electric web at the last second.

  The battle had only just begun, but the floor was already littered with shattered metal parts and burning sparks.

  Then it happened.

  Another spider drone sprinted along the wall like a wheeled demon, screeching.

  It lunged straight at Ten.

  Ten froze.

  Couldn’t move.

  Couldn’t scream.

  Z-69 pivoted instantly, intercepting the attack before the spinning blade could touch Ten’s throat.

  The short blade cleaved it cleanly.

  As soon as Z-69 lowered his blade—ZAP!

  A violet laser shot straight into his shoulder from behind.

  The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

  A veinlike crack of purple lightning spread from his shoulder up to his neck.

  Ten stammered, voice breaking:

  “D–don’t… don’t keep protecting me… You’ll—!”

  Z-69 just looked at him—calm, frighteningly calm.

  “You live — I continue.”

  No anger.

  No blame.

  Just truth, cold and absolute.

  Ten’s breath hitched.

  He wanted to cry—not from fear, but from the cold emptiness behind that voice.

  The emptiness of someone who had died protecting others too many times.

  Seeing Z-69 injured, Lumina pushed her psychic power to the limit.

  Her forehead crystal flared, glowing bright green like a beacon on a command ship.

  “I’m jamming ALL of them!!!”

  Waves of psychic energy blasted outward.

  Drones misfired.

  Some spun out of control.

  Others crashed into walls.

  Within seconds, most small drones were disabled.

  But—Lumina swayed.

  Her ears drooped.

  Her eyes blurred.

  Her neck weakened as she nearly collapsed.

  “I… can’t… too many of them…”

  Z-69 gently caught her.

  “Sleep.”

  “N–NO!” Lumina protested weakly. “I… don’t want you… to fight alone…”

  But exhaustion crushed her.

  She curled up in Z-69’s palm like a tiny fading flame and passed out.

  Z-69 handed Lumina to Ten.

  “Don’t let her fall.”

  Ten nodded, clutching her tightly against his chest like something precious.

  The ceiling cracked.

  A heavy panel slid open—revealing a massive drone.

  Human-sized.

  Black titanium armor.

  Four high-frequency laser cannons.

  Six thrust turbines.

  Two mechanical arms with plasma blades vibrating like shark teeth.

  Z-69 observed it with genuine interest.

  “This looks familiar. According to my memory, this type was used to kill high-grade superhumans.”

  Ten screamed:

  “SERIOUSLY?!”

  “I will confirm.” Z-69 said.

  The drone locked onto its target.

  Every laser in the hallway swiveled toward Z-69.

  Ten yelled:

  “MOVE!!!”

  “No.”

  Z-69 pushed Ten backward.

  “Stay.”

  Then he charged.

  The first clash sounded like a giant bell being struck.

  Plasma blade met short blade.

  Violet electricity collided with blue plasma, exploding into a storm of miniature lightning.

  The entire hallway shook like it might collapse.

  The drone fired a second laser at Z-69’s chest.

  He slid sideways, but still took a deep scorching hit across his ribs—skin burning, smoke rising.

  Z-69’s mind calculated instantly.

  If I keep this up, I will lose control again. Change strategy.

  His breathing grew harsher.

  But his eyes stayed calm.

  Steady.

  Cold.

  He shifted his movement.

  Instead of overpowering the drone, he slipped underneath its body — where its sensors were weakest.

  One downward slash.

  A sharp burst of violet sparks.

  The short blade pierced its titanium plating, lightning pouring into the energy core.

  The drone convulsed.

  The turbines sputtered.

  Then—BOOM!

  It exploded into a shower of metal shrapnel.

  Ten shielded Lumina and ducked as Z-69’s body blocked most of the debris.

  When the smoke cleared, Z-69 still stood.

  Burned.

  Injured.

  Smoking.

  But unbroken.

  Ten’s eyes filled with tears before he realized it.

  Lumina—barely awake—jumped onto his head and smacked him with her paws.

  “ARE YOU CRAZY?!”

  Z-69 looked at the charred drone remains.

  “…That was fun.”

  Ten collapsed to the floor, panting.

  “You’re… really not normal.”

  “I know.” Z-69 said.

  The heavy drone collapsed completely.

  Every red light in the hallway flickered once—then went dark.

  The corridor exhaled the last breath of its dying machines.

  A display panel at the far end blinked on:

  Segment 3 — Completed.

  The steel door slid open.

  Ahead lay a narrow bridge leading into a circular chamber glowing pale green:

  The Gauntlet’s Core Room.

  At the center, atop a stone pedestal, two crystal keys glowed like dormant energy bullets.

  Ten forced himself to stand, still shaking.

  “That’s… the final round,” he whispered. “The Core Room… where only two teams remain, and two keys exist…”

  Z-69 placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Calm.”

  Lumina rested on Z-69’s shoulder again, rubbing her head against his neck to confirm he was still alive.

  “I hate… drones…” she muttered weakly.

  Z-69 stepped onto the bridge, short blade in hand.

  The violet light from his weapon reflected on the crystal keys, making them glow like two eyes staring back.

  “We’ve reached the end,” he said.

  Behind them, the door slammed shut—locking all three inside the final challenge separating them from Level Nine.