The armored figure stood before him, the tip of his sword resting on the ground. He stared intently at Mike from head to toe—or so it seemed, since with his white helmet, his face and the direction of his gaze were invisible. Everything about him was white and appeared to be made of a material fused to his skin.
Armored Figure? — Let me ask you again: kid, are you ready for your first and probably last fight?
Mike kept staring, unable to understand who this man was or why he stood in front of him now.
Mike — A fight? But who are you, and why do you want to fight me? I don't want to fight anyone!
Voice? — If I were you, I wouldn't waste time talking to him. I'd get ready, because he looks seriously dangerous, the voice said in a calm tone.
Mike — Yeah, but shouldn't I at least know who I'm dealing with?
He began to slowly step back, one foot at a time, trying to put some distance between them.
Armored Figure? — Hmm, you're quite strange. Instead of preparing for battle, you're talking to yourself. Your questions make no sense. "Who am I?", "Why do I want to fight?" You should be worrying about your life instead.
The armored figure grabbed his sword with a simple motion and pointed it at Mike.
Armored Figure? — You'll get your answers… if I judge you worthy.
Voice? — Quick, drop your bag or it'll get in your way. And grab your knife—it's sadly the only weapon you have right now.
Mike listened to the voice. He dropped his bag on the ground and gripped his knife tightly.
Mike — Alright… if I have no choice…
Voice? — Don't hesitate too much with him. I'll try to guide you as best I can.
The armor chuckled, and the laugh echoed through the entire floor. Then, he dashed toward Mike and swung a massive lateral sword strike.
Voice — Duck, now!
Mike ducked as best he could, just in time, arching backward to avoid the strike. At the same time, he heard a loud crash and saw that a wall nearby—part of one of the apartments—was now in pieces, partially destroyed.
Mike — Thanks! That could've been fatal!
Armored Figure? — Who are you thanking like that? Well, you managed to dodge my first strike! the figure said enthusiastically.
Mike stepped back as he spoke, returning to a ready stance. He glanced at his knife—it looked pathetic compared to the sword.
Voice? — You should try attacking too, though it'll be tough. You've got no combat experience, and this hallway is narrow. You'll have to be clever.
Mike — Fine, I'll do whatever you tell me. This is about survival, right?
Voice? — Exactly. Every word I say is meant to help you stay alive. First, you'll need to let him destroy as many walls as possible…
The voice was still speaking when another sword strike almost hit Mike in the face.
Armored Figure? — Still ignoring me? And talking to yourself? You really don't get it.
Voice? — Block it—now!
Acting on instinct, Mike managed to raise his knife and block the incoming blade that had almost impaled his face. But the impact launched him backward at full speed, and he ended up falling into the sticky liquid again. He got up as quickly as he could. His hands were trembling from the shock, and he could tell this strike was just a warm-up for his opponent.
Armored Figure? — Well done, kid. I might actually enjoy this! I'll answer one of your questions and introduce myself: I no longer have a name, but you can call me Entity No. 260.
The armored man—well, Entity No. 260, as he called himself—lowered his sword, waiting for Mike's response.
Mike was confused. He didn't understand what "no longer has a name" meant, or this word Entity followed by a number. It all seemed bizarre.
Voice? — Entity? That rings a bell… but I can't quite remember…
Mike — Entity? What is that supposed to mean? he asked the armored figure before him.
Entity No. 260 — I said I'd answer one question. No more. Now get ready for round two.
Mike knew he had to give everything he had if he wanted more answers. So he braced himself for what was coming.