Iron Rebellion

al equations meant for university students. At six, he designed a simple robotic arm using spare parts from his father's co

her, she evolved, absorbing vast amounts of information on combat theory, martial arts, and physics. By the time Ryan turned sixteen, Nova

ntial as a revolutionary defense system-technology that could change warfare forever. But Ryan refused to let his geniu

going to prove h

d smoothly, its mechanical arms flexing like a seasoned fighter ready for battle. He had spent

rt pounding. "Dad, I want you to see this," he sai

ocuments. "If it's another one of

ay calm. "It's not a toy. This is a high-perfo

cold. "And what exactly do you pl

rground fighting leagues. People bet on these

nce on nonsense! You could be designing real weapons, technology th

g the robot's control pane

les. "You'll understand one day. But until t

et his robot to its first official fight. But

shattered screens-his robot

of the destruction, arms crosse

es. "You... you destroyed them?"

e to the company tomorrow. I have projects lined up for you.

ing beneath his skin. Without anothe

he was going, only

at on a park bench,

ya

her, Lina, standing there,

yed them, Mom. Everything I wo

hand on his shoulder. "Your father t

ah? Well, he just made sur

, don't let anger decide your future. If this company isn't where your heart is, that's okay

staring at the broke

t their favorite café. She listened as he rant

plan now?" she

king for him. And if he forces me,

r genius plan? Sabotage? You think ruining h

I don't care wh

t paid. Build your damn robots in secret. Win

the table. He hated admitti

d. "But I'm not pl

ked. "You

lected off the wet pavement, and distant cheers caught his attenti

e energy of the crowd, the robotic announcer'

ide, eyes lock

vily armored and brutally powerful. Its opponent, Shadow Fang, was sl

proof-proof that combat robots weren't just toy

, sending Shadow Fang crashing into th

raced. Damn.

Fang adapted-switching from boxing t

yze Shadow Fang's adaptive strategy.

ready processing. Shall I cross-ref

irked.

a final strike-piercing through Tit

erupted

is fists. This

was art. It was strategy. It was e

l do anything to