The big day had finally arrived. The three of them had prepared for this moment like the condemned awaiting judgment.
The grand final was about to begin. It could mean a new life for Camila. If she won, she could build something better for herself, living off sponsorships and finally having some dignity.
Liam, Tom, and Camila walked toward the launch platform where their armors were waiting.
"— Initiate."
Camila was launched into the arena.
The moment she landed, she sprinted across the field, vaulting sideways over artificial rock formations.
"An impressive display of parkour from Pilot One!" the commentator exclaimed excitedly. "The Iron Hearts must have trained their entire lives for this!"
Maps weren't allowed during matches. It was like a deadly game of hide-and-seek—teams clashing whenever they crossed paths in the arena.
Her first opponent appeared quickly.
A green-and-gray robot armed with a paint blaster in its right hand. It couldn't fly for long or move very fast due to the weight of its weapons. Even so, it tried to tag her with a few shots.
In this game, victory went to the team that ended the match with less paint on them. Flying right now would be a bad idea—she'd be an easy target for the blaster.
If she climbed too high, she'd be picked off instantly.
So she chose an old western rule: whoever shoots first wins.
She managed to land a few paint shots before the opponent ducked behind a rock to prepare a counterattack.
Positioned between the stones, he fired a paint missile from a mechanical arm mounted on the back of his armor.
The missile streaked toward Camila at high speed. She leapt over it using her foot thrusters—but she immediately realized she'd made a mistake.
A sniper had been watching.
He wore thermodynamic camouflage that made him nearly invisible.
(If I don't find this guy, we'll lose control of the field.)
Tom was sliding across the arena, searching for the three targets.
Midair, Camila was hit from behind and slammed face-first into the rocks.
She tried to stand, but couldn't—she only writhed on the ground.
Then Tom reached her.
"Are you okay?"
He extended his hand and helped her up.
"I'm fine," Camila said. "We need to find that sniper."
She knew air combat would be impossible while he was out there.
Camila glided through a narrow artificial water channel built into the arena.
Suddenly, another armor dropped from above like a meteor.
It was purple, wielding a paint staff.
Camila fired at his chest, but he blocked the shot with the staff like a baseball bat.
He struck her hard in the shoulder, sending her backward.
She reacted instantly, kicking upward with both legs and locking onto his head.
In seconds, the situation flipped.
Now she had control.
Camila slammed him to the ground with a wrestling-style throw.
The opponent slid back toward the rocky hills, trying to recover.
Meanwhile, the sniper lay at a distance, resting his rifle on a stone.
Camila began to understand their strategy.
Each of them had a role:
The sniper controlled the air.
The staff fighter and the missile operator controlled the ground.
It was efficient—but not flawless.
She kicked a large rock into the air like a soccer ball.
The sniper reacted and fired, revealing his position.
Camila marked the approximate location on her visor.
"Tom, Liam—I need you to clear a path to the sniper while I push forward."
"Copy."
The path ahead was straight, with a massive stone pillar at its center. He was likely perched on top.
The staff-wielding opponent leapt from the pillar, trying to intercept her mid-advance.
She dodged—he wouldn't fool her twice.
Tom hooked him with a grappling line from his right arm.
They engaged in close combat.
Tom specialized in Mexican wrestling techniques and quickly locked him into an armbar, immobilizing him.
Camila ascended vertically along the pillar, using the momentum from her earlier movements.
At the top, she kicked the sniper's armor, sending it crashing down from a considerable height.
For a brief second, she worried.
Killing opponents was forbidden in this tournament.
If judges deemed an armor unable to continue, it would be removed from the match.
That's exactly what happened.
The electronic referee announced:
"Enemy team's Armor Three has been declared out of combat. Eliminated."
The crowd roared.
It was only paint and sport—but the adrenaline felt real.
Camila exhaled inside the cockpit.
Two left.
Liam's voice crackled through the comms.
"Nice move, Camila. Advantage is ours."
"Not yet," she replied. "They still have the missile guy and the staff fighter."
Tom was still locked in combat with the purple armor.
They exchanged rapid blows, kicking up clouds of colored dust.
The opponent was agile—but Tom was seasoned.
"I've got this one," he said, smiling through his voice.
Camila descended to help Liam locate the final enemy.
The green-and-gray armor had hidden among rock formations, stalling.
Alone, he knew his chances were slim.
So he launched a desperate attack.
A barrage of paint missiles streaked toward Camila and Liam, exploding in bursts of color.
Liam raised an energy shield while Camila zigzagged to avoid being hit.
"He's running low on ammo!" Liam shouted.
That was their opening.
Camila ignited her thrusters and closed the distance in seconds.
Before he could react, she leapt and kicked the blaster arm, sending it flying.
He tried to run—but Liam was already behind him.
A precise shot struck his back.
"Armor Two eliminated!" the system announced.
Only one remained.
At the center of the arena, Tom and the staff fighter were still locked in battle.
Both were splattered with paint—but neither had been ruled out.
Tom took a risk.
He lunged forward, feinting right, then shifted at the last second and swept the opponent's legs out from under him.
Before he could rise, Camila fired a direct shot to the purple armor's chest.
The visor confirmed:
"Final armor eliminated. Victory—Iron Hearts!"
The arena erupted in cheers.
The three gathered at the center as colorful confetti rained from the artificial sky.
Camila could hardly believe it.
She had won.
Tom placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Told you you'd make it."
Liam raised her arm.
"New league champion!"
For a moment, Camila forgot the pain, the past, the fear.
Inside that armor, she wasn't just a frightened girl anymore.
She was a champion.
But as they celebrated, something changed.
The arena lights began to flicker.
An urgent warning echoed through the speakers.
"Attention. Immediate evacuation. Maximum-level threat detected."
Above the stadium, a golden flash began forming in the sky.
Camila looked up, heart pounding.
"What's happening?"
No one answered.
A deafening explosion shattered the air.
The arena's roof was struck—everything began to collapse.
Camila was trapped beneath the rubble. She thought she would die there—until Tom pulled her free and hoisted her over his shoulder. The arena emptied in chaos.
(What was that? A terrorist attack?) she wondered as she was carried away.
Tom set her down in a safe zone.
"Stay here. I'm going back for the others."
"Wait—don't go! It's still dangerous!"
More debris crashed down, burying those who remained.
Camila exited her mech and started running.
Was this the beginning of another war?
Maybe Terra Zero had retaliated over the Area Zero resource-sharing contract.
Another explosion hurled her backward.
Life, to Camila, was a cruel irony.
One moment she was at the top of the world, thriving in the heat of battle.
The next, she was thrown back into the very conflict she thought she had escaped years ago.