“What’s Level 3?” Keve asked.
Milo paused before speaking “Oh, that cheerful death trap?”
Keve raised a brow. “I assume thats not the spa level.”
Milo gave a short laugh. “Haha,Nope. Just screaming and carnage. Well some inmates call it The Pit or The Engine." Milo rolled his eyes before continuing. "Sometimes The Arena, if they’re feeling poetic.”
Outside the pod, a solar storm ripped across the Dyson Sphere and golden lightning etched violent scars onto the exterior of its heat coating, casting the interior in flashes of molten gold. The pod groaned under pressure.
“Think gladiator bloodsport meets tech demo,” Milo continued, spinning a holo projection with two fingers. Keve just recalled a lesson about the very ancient gladiator's who once fought on the mother planet Earth. "The council broadcast it to their elite buyers. They test gear on inmates like drones, suits, bioweapons. The fighting? That’s just packaging.”
“Do they force inmates to participate?” Keve had asked.
Milo shook his head, "Nope, They Volunteer. The end price of survival is Freedom from this sphere."
"Freedom?", Keve was surprised, he had never heard of anyone being freed from this prison. It was infamous for being the only one in the galaxy where no inmate escaped or was ever freed.
Milo laughed, dry and sharp. “A marketing hook. Technically, if you survive the Arena, you earn a transfer. Supposedly to a higher-tier station, maybe parole.” He leaned forward. “But in thousands of years? No one’s ever walked out.”
“They just kill them?”
“No,” Milo said, grinning bitterly. “They scale the threat. Win once, they send smarter drones. Win again, they send mechs. Keep going, and you’ll be fighting prototype war machines programmed specifically to end you. It’s not a reward system, it’s a trap packaged as a reward. Because The Arena isn’t escape. It’s just an illusion control. Its just --"
"It's just a rigged carnival game, only bloodier.", Keve said slowly in a low voice before he took a second and smiled at Milo, “Then let’s break the rules.”
Milo nodded slowly before Keve spoke up again.
“Can we tap the Sphere’s grid from inside the Arena?”
Milo hesitated. “Yes. It's the only place they route raw plasma into the exposed conduits. If we want power cores and real access, then down there’s the shot. But if you’re going... you can’t show anything that isn’t on the sanctioned list. You have to fight like every other desperate inmate..”
Keve stayed silent as his eyes tuned cold.
“I’m serious,” Milo added. “If they see even a flicker of your Blink on the arena feed, they’ll vaporize you. On the spot.”
Keve turned to Milo. “Can you jam drone sensors?”
Milo’s fingers flew across the console. “I can spoof heat maps, disrupt targeting logic, and clone movement signatures. Best case? I can buy you ninety seconds of coordinated chaos.”
“Well, thats plenty for me.”, Keve's system pinged as he said that.
[NEW QUEST: SURVIVE THE ARENA]
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Objectives: Defeat 3 Combat-Class Drones | Secure 2 Plasma Convertors| Optional: Rescue 1 Inmate : Reward 1 additional Plasma Convertor
Rewards: Access Key to Level 2 | Skill Upgrade Token | +150 XP]
Milo blinked in surprise as his mouth opened in awe “You’re serious?”
Keve reached for the reinforced utility belt on the side rack as he nodded at his question.
“Right. Of course you’re serious. That’s your whole vibe I guess, The entire pop into someone's pod with great cheekbones and no self-preservation instinct.’” Milo in his 20 years of life had never met someone so daring, it almost made Keve an idiot in his rational mind.
Keve raised an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment?”
“Unfortunately.”
Milo handed over a palm-sized mesh module. “That’ll monitor your vitals. I’ll watch your stats from up here. If anything flatlines, I’ll scream into the console and pretend I warned you better.”
Keve clipped it to the belt and nodded. “Appreciated.”
“Try not to die dramatically,” Milo added. “It messes with the signal feed.”
.
.
.
Keve had volunteered for the Arena as soon as he arrived back into his pod and now he was on his way to the Arena.
The shaft to the Arena was forgotten, narrow, rusted and buzzing with static. The air thickened with each level down, the heat climbed.
And then came the noise.
Crowds. Hundreds of Inmates Roaring!
Echoing. Wild. It was a sound too alive for this dead place.
The Arena loomed below, carved into the Sphere’s underbelly like an open wound. Circular. Terraced and surrounded by floating inmate platforms, each packed with jeering prisoners, fists pounding against their forcefields.
As Keve stepped into the light. He caught a clear view of the pit. It was made out of charred tungsten but Burned, scarred and blood-soaked.
When the strong white light pierced his eyes, a control panel slid open beside him and a glowing text flickered to life:
[SELECT WEAPON: ONE ONLY]
He selected a high-frequency carbon blade, it was simple and efficient but lethal. Soon he was guided by the lights on the floor to his place in the arena as the AI announcer announced his Vital's and Name to the prisoner's loudly. They all cheered but none cared if he survived or not. This was just entertainment for them.
"#10004. Match Begins in 5-4-3-2-", the voice announced loudly.
At 1, the Soon drones hovered above as the optics blinked blue and the horns blared loudly.
Soon the gates opened and Three humanoids appeared with plasma coils spinning at their arms like turbines. Their optics flared red the moment they locked onto him.
[THREAT LEVEL: MEDIUM-HIGH]
[ADVISORY: TARGET ARMOR JOINTS | AVOID DIRECT CONFRONTATION]
The first charged as Keve shifted his weight. He did not phase as He ducked under the strike, spun low, and drove the blade into its shoulder joint, the Sparks exploded and The first drone collapsed onto the tungsten floor.
The crowd roared with amusement as the second drone fired at Keve, It's Plasma hissed through the air and clipped his side.
[DAMAGE: MINOR]
[STAMINA: 82%]
Keve gritted his teeth from the pain and rolled on his side. The third drone adjusted it attack as Keve sprinted forward with his blade raised. He dodged right, slashed left, and drove his weapon into the coil chamber of the second drone. It screeched and collapsed.
Now only one was left. It lunged faster than the other two but Keve slid beneath its arm, pivoted, and stabbed through it's spinal array. When the last drone spasmed, fell, and collapsed the entire crowd went silent.
Silence.
Then chaos.
Loud roars and shouts of his number echoed through the arena.
[ARENA OBJECTIVES COMPLETE]
[2 PLASMA CONVERTERS COLLECTED]
[XP GAINED: 180]
[LEVEL UP: SYSTEM SYNC 1 → 2]
[NEW TRAIT UNLOCKED: Reflex Surge]
Keve stood in the wreckage and slowly his breathing grew steady.
There were no tricks.
Just steel, silence, and strategy.
He was not just a number anymore, He was a variable.
.
.
.
Back in the pod, Milo was frozen.
“That… that was not beginner energy,” he whispered. “System Sync 2 already? That’s highly illegal.”
The doors hissed open.
When Keve walked in. Burned, bruised, unbothered. Milo looked more surprised than ever.
“You survived,” Milo said, blinking.
Keve just looked at him.
Milo leaned back, hands behind his head. “You know what? I’ll say it. nicely done. Almost makes me feel bad I bet against you.”
Keve raised a brow.
“Almost,” Milo clarified, grinning.
