The interior of the メトロシティ・バトルセンター (Metoro-Shiti Batoru Sentā) Metro City Battle Center was a sensory overload of neon and noise. It was a cathedral dedicated to the art of digital combat, a towering structure of glass and steel located in the heart of the entertainment district. Overhead, massive holographic screens played highlight reels of last season's champions, their armored avatars clashing in slow motion to the thumping bass of synthetic techno music.
For most teenagers in シリコンベイ (Shirikon-Bei)Silicon Bay, this place was paradise. For Dash, standing before the registration kiosk with a sheen of nervous sweat on his forehead, it was currently looking like a purgatory of red error messages.
Dash adjusted the aviator goggles hanging around his neck—a nervous tic he couldn't seem to shake. He slammed his palm against the cool, unresponsive glass of the interface.
"What do you mean 'Access Denied'?! Come on, you stupid machine! I have a dragon! Look at him!"
Dash pointed frantically to his right shoulder. Perched there, gripping the fabric of his red hoodie with magnetic claws, was Madbot. He was currently in his compact Beast Mode, resembling a small, obsidian gargoyle with glowing green optical sensors and a tail that twitched with irritation.
The kiosk didn't care about the rarity of the bot. It simply flashed a brutal, unfeeling message in gray, pixelated text that seemed to mock Dash's ambition.
SYSTEM ALERT: REGISTRATION FAILED ERROR CODE: 404-TRIO REASON: LONE WOLF PROTOCOL VIOLATION.
REQUIREMENT: A VALID TEAM MUST CONSIST OF THREE (3) MEMBERS.
CURRENT STATUS: 1/3. MISSING ROLES: SUPPORT/SNIPER, DEFENDER.
"Three?" Dash groaned, the fight draining out of him as he slid down the front of the console until he was crouching on the polished floor. "Since when do you need three people to enter a tournament? In the cartoons, the hero just shows up and wins!"
Madbot let out a sound that was distinctively like a sigh, if a sigh sounded like a hydraulic piston decompressing. His green eyes whirred as they projected a holographic stream of text into the air in front of Dash.
"Stop whining, human. It is undignified," the bot croaked, his voice a gravelly drone that cut through the ambient noise of the lobby. "Refer to Article 4, Section B of the リーグ (Rīgu)League Rulebook. To prevent neural overload and 'Dimensional Variance,' all participants in the Metro City Cup must form a balanced トリオ (Torio)Trio."
Dash stared at the floating text, picking out the words he understood. "Neural overload? Variance?"
"Precisely," Madbot continued, sounding like a bored professor lecturing a dull student. "My processing power is too high for a single unaugmented human brain to manage for prolonged periods without a stabilizer. You need teammates to distribute the data load. Specifically, we require a スナイパー (Sunaipā) Sniper for long-range tactical support and a ディフェンダー (Difendā)Defender to mitigate incoming damage."
Dash kicked at the floor with his high-top sneaker. "Great. Just great. I finally get a bot, I finally beat Christ—sort of—and now I'm stopped by paperwork? I don't know anyone, Madbot! Everyone at school thinks I'm a joke. The only people who know I even have a bot are the ones who want to scrap me."
"Then we must recruit," Madbot stated simply. "My database suggests we maximize our win probability by selecting candidates with complementary psychological profiles and hardware specs."
"And... where do we find those... complimentary... something?" Dash asked, resting his chin on his knees. "The 'Smart and Tough' store?"
"Calculations complete," Madbot chirped, ignoring the sarcasm. "Based on school records and local server leaderboards, there are two optimal candidates within a two-mile radius. Candidate One: Highest tactical win rate in the district. Candidate Two: Highest damage absorption record. However..."
Madbot paused, his internal fans spinning up.
"However what?"
"The probability of them accepting a request from a user with your... 'reputation'... is calculated at approximately 0.4%."
Dash jumped up, dusting off his cargo pants and fixing his messy brown hair. A grin, reckless and determined, spread across his face.
"0.4%? That's not zero. That means there's a chance. Let's go."
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The Silicon Bay Cyber-Café , shortened to サイフェ (Sai-fe) Cy-fé was a different world entirely from the loud, flashy バトルセンター (Batoru Sentā)Battle Center. It was a subterranean sanctuary for the elite, a dimly lit cavern smelling of ozone and expensive coffee. Here, there was no shouting, only the furious, rhythmic clicking of mechanical keyboards and the soft hum of high-performance server towers.
In the back corner, isolated from the rest of the patrons by a wall of empty soda cans, sat エイミー (Eimī)Amy.
She didn't look like a warrior. At first glance, she looked like a model student taking a study break. She had long, flowing blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders, and she wore a pristine school uniform. But the casual observer would miss the details: the high-spec specialized goggles pushed up on her forehead, and the way her eyes darted across the three floating holographic monitors surrounding her booth.
"Wind velocity, 4.2 knots. Humidity, 88%. Adjusting arc," she whispered to herself.
On her central screen, a battle simulation was playing out. Her avatar, a sleek blue unit, was pinned down in a digital canyon.
"Fire."
She tapped a single key. On screen, a beam of blue light curved around a rock formation, ricocheted off a frozen waterfall, and struck the enemy commander directly in the power core.
SIMULATION RESULT: VICTORY. ACCURACY: 99.1%.
TIME ELAPSED: 12 SECONDS.
SLAM.
Two hands slapped onto her table, rattling the mountain of soda cans.
"Amy! I choose you!"
Amy didn't flinch. She didn't even look up. She simply reached out with one hand and adjusted the volume on her headset.
"You are disturbing the airflow," she said, her voice cool, detached, and sharp as a scalpel. "Go away, DashKazehara."
"Wait, you know who I am?" Dash asked, pulling up a chair and sitting on it backward, leaning his chest against the backrest.
Amy finally turned to look at him. Her eyes were a piercing blue, matching the light from her screens. She tapped her temple. "I know everything worth knowing in the local grid. You are the statistical anomaly. The 'Mascot' who somehow activated a Class-A Ignis unit. I analyzed the footage of your fight with Christ."
"Pretty cool, right?" Dash grinned, pointing a thumb at his chest. "I made him fly!"
"It was embarrassing," Amy corrected flatly. "You overheated your core in forty-five seconds. You have zero spatial awareness. You attack in straight lines. You are a walking chaotic variable."
"It's called passion!" Dash argued. "It's called Burning Spirit!"
"It's called suicide," Amy countered. She tapped her wrist, and a sphere of sapphire crystal materialized on the table. It unfolded gracefully, revealing a robotic fox with tails made of fiber-optic cables.
"This is クリスタル (Kurisutaru)Crystal," Amy said. "She is a ハイドロ・フォックス (Haidoro Fokkusu)Hydro-Fox. We operate on precision, geometry, and patience. We do not operate on 'spirit.' We are incompatible."
"Come on, Amy!" Dash pleaded, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Madbot ran the numbers. He says we need a Sniper. I have the raw power, but I can't hit anything that moves fast. Christ wiped the floor with me until I got lucky. If I had someone to cover my back... someone who could see what I can't..."
Amy paused. Her eyes flickered to the small, rusty-looking dragon bot on Dash's shoulder. Madbot stared back, his sensors analyzing her.
"He is correct," Madbot interjected. "Your defensive stats are low. My offensive output is high. A symbiosis would increase your survival rating by 600%."
Amy tapped her chin, looking at her screen again. A notification blinked in the corner: UPGRADE MATERIAL REQUIRED: QUANTUM PROCESSOR CHIP.
"I am currently missing a rare component to upgrade Crystal's long-range scope," Amy murmured, more to herself than to Dash. "The prize pool for the Metro City Cup qualifiers includes a military-grade Quantum Processor."
She sighed, a long, suffering sound. She stood up, grabbing her bag and sliding her goggles down over her eyes.
"I will join you. On a trial basis," she said, holding up a finger. "But we cannot enter with two people. And I refuse to team up with just anyone. We need a meat shield. Someone to stand in front and take the damage so I don't scratch my finish."
Dash's grin returned, wider than ever. "A meat shield? Oh, I know exactly where to find the biggest one in the city."
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The sun was beginning to set, casting long, orange shadows across the school grounds. Behind the gymnasium, in a secluded patch of grass that the janitors usually ignored, the sounds of the city were muffled. It was the perfect nap zone.
サム・オダ (Samu Oda)Sam Oda lay sprawled on a wooden bench that groaned under his weight. He was huge—a fourteen-year-old who looked like he could bench press a small car. He had messy dark hair and wore thick-rimmed glasses that were currently sliding down his nose. A half-eaten bag of potato chips rested precariously on his chest, rising and falling with his deep, rhythmic breathing.
Next to him, looking less like a robot and more like a large, moss-covered boulder, was his Mechamon, タンク (Tanku)Tank. The robotic turtle was retracted into its shell, emitting a low snoring sound from its exhaust ports.
"Hey! Sam!" Dash yelled, sprinting around the corner with Amy trailing reluctantly behind him.
Sam snorted, his hand reflexively grabbing a chip and shoving it into his mouth before his eyes even opened. He blinked slowly, adjusting his glasses.
"Oh. Hey, Dash. Hey, Amy," Sam mumbled, his voice deep and slow. "Is it lunch time?"
"We need you, big guy," Dash said, slapping Sam's shoulder. It felt like slapping a brick wall. "We're entering the Cup. We need a ディフェンダー (Difendā)Defender."
Sam yawned, stretching his arms. His joints popped like firecrackers. "The Cup? Sounds tiring. Running around, dodging lasers... not my style. Tank and I are retired. We prefer... stationary activities."
"Stationary activities?" Amy asked, raising an eyebrow. "You are fourteen."
"Napping is an activity," Sam stated with conviction. "Besides, Tank's servos act up when it rains."
"Negative," the robotic turtle droned from inside its shell. "My servos are functional. I simply emulate my pilot's lethargy."
"Shh, Tank," Sam patted the shell.
Dash stepped forward. He knew Sam. He knew what motivated the gentle giant.
"I'll buy you the Mega-Beef Bowl from the cafeteria," Dash offered. "Every day for a week."
Sam's left eye twitched.
"With the extra egg?" Sam asked.
"Double meat. Double egg. And a large soda," Dash promised.
Sam froze. The gears in his head seemed to turn. He looked at Dash, then at the floating image of the beef bowl in his mind. He slowly sat up, towering over both of them.
"Deal," Sam said, standing up and dusting crumbs off his shirt. "But I have one rule. I don't run. If we fight, I stand still. You guys do the running."
"Acceptable," Amy said, analyzing Sam's physique with her goggles. "His density mass is sufficient to act as mobile cover. Team formed."
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The trio walked toward the registration center, taking a shortcut through the industrial district known as グリッチ・アリー (グリッチ・アリー)Glitch Alley. It was a dangerous path, a place where the pristine holographic overlay of Silicon Bay flickered and failed, revealing the grime of the old city beneath.
"This team composition is theoretically viable," Madbot muttered from Dash's shoulder. "Fire, Water, Earth. We have full elemental coverage. However, social cohesion is calculated at 12%. We are a disaster waiting to happen."
"Optimism, Madbot!" Dash chirped. "We just need a warm-up!"
As if on cue, the streetlights above them buzzed loudly and died.
ZZZT.
The temperature dropped ten degrees in a second. A purple, digital fog rolled out from the storm drains, swirling around their ankles. Shadows on the walls stretched and warped, detaching themselves from the brickwork.
Three figures stepped out from the gloom, blocking the narrow path. They wore leather jackets emblazoned with a jagged gear emblem—the mark of the グリッチ・ハンター (Guricchi Hantā)Glitch Hunters.
"Well, well," the leader sneered. He was a lanky thug with a metal jaw and a spiked bat. "Fresh meat with shiny bots. Hand over the Cores, and we won't format your drives."
"Glitch Hunters," Amy whispered, stepping back and reaching for her device. "They use illegal Jailbroken mods to steal data from registered players. Dash, we should retreat and formulate a strategy."
"Retreat?" Dash stepped forward, his fists clenched. "No way. We have a registration to catch. You want our bots? Come get 'em!"
"Get 'em, boys!" the leader shouted, raising a rusted, modified Mecha-vice.
"MEKA-SHIFT!"
The three thugs triggered their devices simultaneously. The world stuttered. The gray concrete of the alley was instantly overlaid with the dark purple grid of the Mecha-verse. The buildings turned into towering pillars of data, and the ground hummed with energy.
The thugs transformed into jagged, monstrous avatars—a Hornet with buzzing wings, a multi-legged Spider, and a heavy-treaded Bulldozer.
"Dash, wait!" Amy warned. "Don't engage without a plan!"
"Plan A: Punch them in the face!" Dash yelled. He slammed his hand onto his wrist device.
"Let's burn it up! IT'S MECHAMORPHIN' TIME!"
FLASH.
Red light exploded outward. The Arm-clad wrapped around Dash. He roared, the dragon helmet snapping shut over his face. He engaged his rear thrusters and rocketed straight for the Bulldozer-type enemy.
"Too predictable!" the Bulldozer thug laughed. "Deploying Spike-Strip!"
The thug slammed his fists into the ground. The digital floor in front of Dash rippled and turned into jagged obsidian spikes.
Dash couldn't stop. His momentum was too great. "Whoa!"
He tripped, tumbling forward and crashing face-first into the spikes.
CRASH.
WARNING: ARMOR DAMAGE 10%. RIGHT THRUSTER MALFUNCTION.
"Idiot," Amy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She tapped her device. "Crystal, Aqua-Ranger Mode."
Blue light enveloped her. She emerged in a sleek, streamlined suit that looked like a deep-sea diver mixed with an archer. A long, translucent cape flowed behind her, and a high-tech visor locked onto multiple targets. In her hand, a crystalline bow materialized.
"Sam! He needs cover! The Hornet is locking onto him!"
Sam finished the last chip in his bag, crumpled it up, and sighed. "Okay, Tank. Shields up."
Green energy exploded outward, heavy and dense. When the light faded, Sam was encased in the ギガ・ガーディアン (Giga Gādian)Giga-Guardian armor. He looked like a walking fortress, his plating thick, hexagonal, and practically impenetrable.
The Hornet-type enemy fired a barrage of plasma needles at the prone Dash.
"Seismic Shield!" Sam said calmly.
He didn't run. He simply stepped in front of Dash and slammed his massive arm-shields together.
CLANG.
A hexagonal green barrier expanded from his arms, creating a wall of hard-light. The plasma needles struck the barrier and dissolved harmlessly into sparks.
"Whoa," Dash said, looking up from the ground. "Nice save, big guy."
"You owe me a soda too," Sam grunted from inside his heavy helmet.
"Target Locked," Amy's voice cut through the comms channel. She was perched on a floating digital fire escape above them, her bow drawn to its limit. The string hummed with cold energy.
"Calculations complete. Wind speed negligible. Trajectory set."
TWANG.
She fired a single arrow. In mid-air, the arrow split into three separate アイスファングス (Aisu Fangusu) Ice-Fangs. They curved around corners, defying physics, and struck the legs of the Spider and Hornet enemies.
CRACK-SHINK.
Ice instantly encased their joints, freezing them in place.
"I can't move!" the Spider thug screamed, struggling against the blue ice.
"Dash!" Amy commanded, her voice ringing with authority. "The center lane is clear. Use the ice path I created. Friction is reduced by 90%."
Dash looked at the path of ice Amy had laid down. He looked at Sam's shield protecting his back. He felt a surge of something new. It wasn't just his own power anymore. It was amplified.
"Got it!"
Dash ignited his remaining thrusters. He didn't run; he slid. His metal boots crunched over the ice, gaining incredible speed, turning him into a red blur.
"Madbot! Maximum Output!"
"Core temperature rising," Madbot warned. "Ready."
Dash launched himself off the end of the ice ramp, soaring into the air above the confused Bulldozer enemy. His right gauntlet began to glow white-hot, the air around it shimmering.
"マグマフィスト (Maguma Fisuto)Magma Fist!"
"NO!" the thug screamed, raising his arms.
Dash slammed his fist down like a meteor.
BOOM.
A pillar of fire erupted in the digital alleyway, engulfing the enemies. The force of the impact blasted the Glitch Hunters out of their transformations. Their avatars shattered into pixels, ejecting them forcefully from the Mecha-verse.
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SNAP.
Reality resumed. The purple grid vanished, replaced by the dirty concrete of the alley. The three thugs were lying in a pile of trash bags, groaning, their devices smoking and sparking.
"Retreat!" the leader yelped, scrambling to his feet. They ran away into the darkness, tripping over each other in their panic.
Dash powered down, the armor dissolving back into particles of light. He was panting, sweat dripping down his nose, but he was grinning from ear to ear.
"Did you see that?" Dash cheered, throwing his arms up. "Sam blocked! Amy sniped! And I went BOOM! We were like... a machine! A well-oiled machine!"
Amy de-transformed, adjusting her glasses. A rare, tiny smile played on her lips—barely visible, but there. "Your approach was crude, and your entry angle was off by 2.4 degrees. But... the results were within acceptable parameters."
Sam crunched on a fresh chip that he had seemingly materialized from nowhere. "We done? I'm hungry. You promised double meat."
Madbot hovered between them, projecting the registration form again.
"Team Name required," the bot prompted.
Dash looked at his new teammates. The fire that burned in his heart, the ice that calculated their path, and the earth that stood firm.
"チーム・ブレイズ (Chīmu Bureizu)Team Blaze," Dash declared, pointing at the screen.
REGISTRATION COMPLETE. WELCOME TO THE METRO CITY CUP.
High above on a rooftop, hidden in the shadows of a billboard, a figure watched them through a pair of digital binoculars. It was a boy with perfectly styled blonde hair and a golden uniform that gleamed even in the dark.
Christ lowered the binoculars, a scowl on his face.
"So, the stray dog found a pack," Christ muttered, crushing the railing he was holding. "Interesting. Let's see if they survive the first round."
TO BE CONTINUED!!
Writer's Note: Ironically, the cover presents Sam as being a normal boy. But I intended him to be fat like his Bot. ALAS, this happens when you ask ChatGPT, the normal one, to generate a cover based on a description. Anyway, hope you like it. CHEERS!!!