The semi-finals delivered two of the most hotly anticipated clashes of the entire competition.

On one side, Ripple Thawborn had surgically dismantled opponents from Alpha Centuri, Kuiper One and even dispatched Cassandra Riven from her own academy, to set up an encounter with Keefer Darkwood. The giant's form hadn't faltered, his mechanical technique and enhanced exoskeleton driving him through victories against Torri Masters, the top seed from the Holdfast Academy, and again against Battlecast's Cardle North in the quarter final.

On the other side, after beating Max, Codi had come out of her quarter-final slug fest a winner, once again getting the better of Darien Fallow. With the Olympus Mons fighter out of the way, she finally had a chance to excise one of the demons that had been dogging her competition. Her semi-final would be against none other than Dustin Morto.

While the hype and the media frenzy had largely centred on Keefer Darkwood, Morto had quietly gone about his business, crashing through the opening round with ease, before seeing off two top ten opponents, including Chris O'Leary in the quarter final, to place himself within touching distance of Gauntlet glory.

Now everyone was paying attention to a contest that had analysts, journalists and fans alike drooling with anticipation. Codi fielded half a dozen interviews in the run up to the clash, some of it about her, about her fight with Max, about what she expected from Morto; whether she thought with her and Ripple both in the semis there might well be an all Battlecast showdown for the final.

She deflected the worst of it and answered what she could, more concerned at the moment to discover whether or not Kye and Rokki had had any success in their shadowy endeavour. So far she'd heard nothing from the pair. Her heart wrenched back and forth over what it really wanted. On the one hand, she had no desire to see Ripple eliminated by a cheat, but equally, she wanted her shot at Keefer Darkwood. She wanted to get him alone in the arena and see just how far his little gadgets would take him when faced with the full force of her wrath.

But it looked like there'd been no progress, and she couldn't dwell on it any longer. Before any of that could happen, she needed to beat Dustin Morto, and that was by no means a certainty.

She'd studied him in the recording rooms with Thradd by her side, looking for any weaknesses she could exploit, but Dustin Morto was a frustratingly simple opponent, with solid technique and not prone to displays of showmanship. He lacked her speed, but his sheer size offset whatever advantage that might have given her. No matter what clever scheme she concocted, Codi was painfully aware that she would always be in range of those windmill-like blows before she could strike.

Her preparation, therefore, had focused on getting positional advantages; escaping holds and dodging left and right, circling like a wasp and finding any opportunity to attack from the back or sides. No easy task when facing an alert, dangerous opponent, but it was the one thing she could do to him that he wouldn't be able to replicate.

Fans and reporters lined the approach to the arena into two clamouring, undulating walls of flesh. Camera drones swooped and flashed like vultures on a corpse. Codi bit back the disdain; waved to the crowds and put on her most appealing smile. Tried not to flinch when the drones dived past her. It was over in a few moments.

They stepped through the blissful threshold where the noise of the world ebbed down to its lowest and she could gather her thoughts. Codi rolled her head from side to side, loosening her neck, and shook our her arms and legs, going through a small series of stretches with the time she had left, running through everything she and Thradd had worked on in the run up to the fight.

"How you feelin'?" the old coach asked, almost offhandedly.

Codi grinned. "All things considered, pretty good."

"Just keep that big goon moving," the coach continued, calm as an iceberg. "Spin him in circles and get yourself a quarter-staff if there's one lying around. You gotta square that reach somehow."

"I remember." Codi looked at the doors to the arena. "You going to be cheering me on?"

"You bring this one home and I'll have this roof off, kid," Thradd chuckled.

"Miss James," the attendant at the door said, waving a hand. "We're ready for you."

"Knock him on his arse," Thradd told her.

"That's the idea." Codi gave her body one last shake, as though sloughing off all the memories of her previous encounters with Morto. All that mattered now was this fight. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the counter descend ... descend ... descend ...

She was out into the arena before she really processed what she was doing. Drinking in the noise like nectar, feeding off it; feeling the euphoric electricity of having half the stadium chanting her name even as the announcer cut through it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for your first semi-final of the day, please shake this arena for your number two seed, from Battlecast Academy, CODI JAMES!"

They might just have shaken the arena, Codi thought as the cheers rose up around her like roaring flame. She could hear the hisses and boos too, though, from the massed ranks of the Atlantic fans who would not soon forget the part she played in robbing their academy of victory in the flag discipline. A wry smile took over her lips as she spread her arms wide and motioned for the Battlecast faithful to keep it coming.

"And her opponent," the announcer continued as the noise subsided. "From Atlantic Academy, your number three seed, the one and only DUSTIN MORTO!"

The big fighter trudged from his entrance, and he too got his fair share of deafening cheers and mischievous boos. He raised one long arm to wave to the supporters then came to halt, looking into the arena. Codi did the same, examining the course where their Gauntlet destinies would be decided.

A sparse forest of metal stretched out before her. The surface of the arena floor sloped inward, forming a flat-bottomed square bowl, and on that large base stood dozens of tall metal pillars, each affixed with a horizontally spinning cross, like a sideways windmill. Each pole had handholds running up its length, and Codi could see hacktors and quarter staffs latched into place at the top of several of them.

She nodded to herself. This would work for her. With lots of obstacles to dart and dodge around it should be simpler to keep out of Morto's grasp, and there was an easy enough route to the weapons if she wanted them. Plan forming, Codi sank into a ready stance, knees bent and arms hanging loose by her sides.

The klaxon roared and the first Gauntlet semi-final began.

Codi hurtled down the slope with the cheers of the Battlecast fans driving her onward, heart pounding and adrenaline flooding her veins. Her eyes flashed up to the tops of the metal poles, looking for a weapon. While on an open field the quarter-staff would have been a good choice as a range equalizer between her and Morto, fighting within this forest of pillars made the smaller hacktors a more attractive prospect.

A glance to the far side of the arena told her she had a few steps on Morto as she entered the maze of poles. Weaving through the grid, she launched herself halfway up one that had a hacktor at its apex, and wrenched herself up, hand over hand until she reached the top. Catching one of the spinning arms, Codi pulled herself up onto it, balancing precariously on the six-inch bar of metal. Tip-toeing forward, she reached out and dragged the hacktor from its cradle.

Looking forward, she saw Morto scaling a pillar several rows down, clambering up towards a quarter-staff, and an idea occurred to her. With the hacktor clamped in one hand, she set off towards him, leaving from pillar to pillar, planting one foot against the immobile tops around which the arms revolved.

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four.

And then she pushed off as hard as she could for her fifth and final leap, just as Dustin Morto clambered into the upper reaches. She flew towards him as he freed the quarter-staff and turned.

His bright, narrow eyes widened in surprise when he looked up to see Codi plummeting towards him, and he only just managed to fling the staff up in a crossways block as she arrived. Although he outmatched her in size and strength, Codi's momentum and a little extra help from gravity evened out the odds, and she smashed the hacktor into the centre of Morto's quarter staff. The blow had such force that it drove the staff back into his chest and knocked him clean off the pillar.

He flailed for a moment, legs churning in empty space before he hit the next pillar in line about a quarter of the way down its length, and started to fall. However, he showed why he'd made it this far, keeping his awareness as he fell and snapping out one big hand to snag one of the holds and stop his descent. With a grunt of effort, he swung himself into a more stable position, feet planted against other holds and the quarter staff hanging in one hand.

Cheers and jeers roared in Codi's ears as she neatly dropped between the spinning arms of her platform and caught a handhold a few rungs above him, twirling the hacktor viciously. Then began a strange game of cat and mouse – albeit, a very large mouse.

Using her speed as best she could, Codi began launching herself around Morto's pillar, using four points of the grid to form a square with her opponent in the centre, and he struggled to twist and turn and follow her movements. She bounded from rod to rod and occasionally threw herself diagonally, taking heavy swings at him as she shot past. He wrenched his body around, climbing like a clumsy ape, trying to use the quarter-staff to block the worst of her attacks to no avail.

After absorbing half a dozen solid blows Morto lost his balance and his big frame toppled backwards, dropping like a boulder until he crashed to the ground. Scrambling to his feet, he picked up the staff again, glaring upwards, his body visibly shaking.

Flushed with the success of her unorthodox plan Codi looked down, holding loosely onto the pillar and grinning at Morto. The frustration on his face was clear to see and the Battlecast fans thundered their approval.

"You coming back up?" she goaded, spreading her free arm wide.

Morto didn't reply. Instead he took his quarter staff like a lance and flung it at her.

With plenty of time to see it coming, Codi had no trouble shifting her body out of the missile's path, using the hacktor to deftly deflect it off into empty space. More cheers went up from the Battlecast faithful and with a derisive snort she looked down again.

She looked just in time to see Morto, running full tilt, ram one heavy shoulder into the base of the pillar with an animal roar. The tremendous force of the impact nearly bent the thick metal out of its housing and the whole structure shook so violently that Codi lost her grip. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she fell.

Gathering her wits, Codi turned her body and managed to roll as she landed, taking the sting out of the drop, but she still cursed herself for being so stupid. The early success had gone to her head, but Dustin Morto was considered a title contender for a very good reason. He was a lot more than just a bruiser – he had a sharp mind too and would always adapt.

Bounding to her feet, she glanced around to get her bearings. When she caught sight of Morto again he was barely ten meters distant and coming forward fast. She set her feet and wound the hacktor up to swing as he arrived like a speeding train.

A double-handed swing smashed the heavy hacktor blade into Morto's ribs, but he barely seemed to notice, ploughing through the blow and burying a fist into Codi's diaphragm so hard that he lifted her off her feet and propelled her backwards into another pillar. Her back smacked hard against the unyielding metal and the hacktor went flying to a chorus of cheering from Atlantic's rejuvenated supporters.

Codi's jaw tightened in anger as she scrambled back to her feet, taking up a fighting stance as Morto swept in again. This time, though, she put the days of practice to use, waiting till the last minute before darting out of his path. He turned to follow, swinging a whistling hook at her head. She ducked, planted her right foot and shoved herself back the other way, feeling the wind as his arm swung overhead.

Gaining position, Codi drove an elbow hard into his side. Morto grunted in pain and she rolled beneath his backswing, twirling to her feet and landing a spinning kick squarely in his mid-section. He staggered backwards but his other arm swung in low before she could get out of the way. Codi tossed her right arm up to block it, but he connected hard, still able to knock her off balance and spinning her away from him. As she turned a heavy foot was buried into her back, sending her sprawling.

Cursing under her breath, Codi rolled over in time to dodge a stamping foot. Flipping onto her side, she swung a kick as hard as she could that cracked into the outside of Morto's knee. He buckled, off balance for just long enough for her to get up and launch a furious rain of punches and kicks that forced the big Atlantic fighter backwards for a moment.

The crowds shook the air with their roars as the two fighters circled. Codi bounced on the balls of her feet, feeding off the energy, psyching herself up for the next exchange. Eventually she could contain it no longer.

"COME ON!" she screamed thumping a clenched fist against her breastplate before launching herself, at Morto, the fire of combat blazing in every inch of her.

The exchange that followed was brutal and unforgiving. Codi whirled like an angry hurricane diving, ducking and weaving between pillars and around her opponent's barnstorming swings, unleashing savage flurries whenever she got the chance. For his part, Morto was patient, weathering the storm until he saw a window. His boulder-like fists hit with bone-shaking force, each strike making Codi's whole body ring with the force. She misjudged one of her attacks and caught a swing square in the jaw that knocked her flat, stars exploding in her vision.

Picking herself up, undeterred, she sprinted straight at him, her mind completely at the mercy of her wild urge to win at any cost. She jinked left; right; left. Feinted low then at the last instant jumped, clearing Morto's downward driving fist and smashing a knee into his face. His head whipped back and he stumbled until he hit one of the pillars. Codi dove after him, but one long leg suddenly shot up into her path. He planted a boot solidly into her chest plate hard enough to knock her back onto her rear.

Codi rolled backwards with it, coming to her feet with her teeth bared in anger. But Morto turned away and started hauling himself up the pillar she'd just knocked him into. Without thinking, Codi followed, knowing he was after the hacktor at its apex that would give him some extra reach and hitting power. He reached the top just before she did, ripping the hacktor free and swinging down at her as she followed him up onto the small platform.

It was barely big enough for them both to stand on, and the hacktor thumped Codi painfully on the left shoulder, but she ignored it. She lashed her right fist up into Morto's chin, and then clamped her left hand down around the hacktor's fat blade as he tried to pull back for another swing. With a high-pitched snarl of effort she used the hacktor to pull herself forward, spinning and shoving her whole body into Morto's right arm. He had to let go of the hacktor or risk having his wrist broken, and the weapon tumbled down to clatter harmlessly to the metal of the arena floor.

He swore between heavy breaths and tried to set his feet, left arm locking back, ready to fire. Codi steadied herself then hopped backwards as he struck, her feet landing on one of the spinning arms behind her.

Gritting her teeth, Codi swayed backwards dangerously to avoid the snaking jab from Morto's left fist. She only just kept her feet in place as the rotating arms swept her past before Morto could rotate, and with a snarl of effort she managed to shift her weight forward again. As she swung around his left side she jumped, hooking an arm beneath his left shoulder for purchase and swinging herself up onto his back. Clamping on like a limpet, she looped her free hand around Morto's neck and linked it together with the one under his arm. With her arms locked together, Codi pulled tight and locked in her chokehold.

Despite the lack of space on top of the pole, Morto thrashed and spun, hands digging into the vambraces of her exoskeleton as he tried to pry her loose. But she held on with the strength of desperation, muscles straining, and veins on her neck bulging with effort. She threw her legs around his massive waist, anchoring herself in place even more firmly as his struggles intensified.

If he couldn't shake her off, she could win the match here and now, and Codi knew full well that it was her best chance. If the match went to an impact rating she didn't like her chances. He'd landed too many big hits, and she too few. She needed to end this in regular time.

Suddenly her stomach lurched as she dropped about a meter, still clinging doggedly onto Morto's thick neck. It took her a moment to realise that her opponent had dropped into a crouch, and confusion reigned in her mind. His hands stopped pulling at hers, instead fastening onto her in a tight grip, holding her in place.

And then he jumped.

Codi's heart slammed into her mouth as Morto's powerful legs fired both of them high into the air above the arena. A concerted gasp of anticipation rolled around the stands as the two fighters rocketed skywards. Unable to actually let go because of the Atlantic fighter's grip, she squeezed tighter, unsure what else she could do.

Right at the top of his jump, Morto twisted his body, shifting the weight distribution of his exoskeleton and tipping his body backwards. To her horror, Codi found herself beneath him and plummeting back down to earth, unable to release her grip. Her opponent had thrown everything into this one last gamble, ramping every gravity field of his armour up to maximum to speed up their descent.

She couldn't see it, but she knew she had seconds before they hit the ground. Screwing her eyes tightly shut, Codi took a breath, tensed every muscle and tried to brace her body for the coming onslaught.

The two fighters slammed into the ground with titanic force and Codi screamed. Morto's massive frame crushed her against the floor as though she'd been caught between a hammer and an anvil, and her ribs and lower back exploded with searing pain. For an instant her chokehold wobbled as she almost blacked out, but at the last instant she reasserted her will, fighting through the waves of agony to cling on. Rage and determination boiled inside her, fuelled by the pain, and with her teeth clenched tightly together, she squeezed even harder around Morto's heavily muscled neck.

She heard a choking cough; felt Morto wrench his body left and right, but she held on. Tears streamed down her face and she could taste the tang of blood in her mouth, but she didn't care. All that mattered, right now, was winning.

After what felt like an eternity, Dustin Morto finally stopped struggling. Still Codi held on, her mind only half-present, overwhelmed by the pain that was spreading through her torso. Only when the klaxon sounded to end the fight did she release her hold. When she did, Morto rolled weakly off her, slumping to the Arena floor.

Codi opened her eyes and tried to take a breath. She convulsed, her lungs burning as though someone had driven a fire poker through her. Then she rolled onto her side, wretched, and coughed out a mouthful of blood onto the ground. With a wordless snarl of effort, she used one arm to prop herself up, keeping her shattered torso off the ground. The noise of the crowd faded into the back of her mind; a dull roar like drunken thunder.

All she could do was lay there, head bowed, eyes closed, letting the pain radiate through her body. It seemed like minutes before she managed to force her eyelids open and actually look around. Morto lay off to one side, and he didn't seem to be in much better shape, wheezing for breath with one hand grasping at his throat.

Had she done enough? Codi's mind was so hazy she couldn't remember if the announcer had declared a winner or not. She could make out dim, dark shapes hurtling across the Arena floor towards her. After a moment she realised Thradd Winters was leading the group; behind him sprinted four of the Gauntlet's medical staff, but the grizzled old instructor outpaced them all.

He dropped to his knees, skidding across the arena floor and coming to a halt barely a foot away, his face lowered to her level. Though the haze of pain, Codi could see something approaching panic was etched on the man's cragged features.

"Codi, can you hear me?" his voice rang like a bell.

Not able to formulate the breath for an answer, she nodded weakly.

"Talk to me, kid. Where does it hurt?"

Everywhere. She tried to answer but pain bubbled up in her throat and all she could do was cough out another spray of blood. Her eyes screwed shut again and she felt the arm supporting her begin to tremble violently.

With an effort of will, she rasped through the agony, "Did I win?"

"Yeah, yeah, you won," Thradd said dismissively. "But you're hurt, Codi. Can you stand? Can you move?"

She stopped listening. Once she knew she'd won, Codi's whole body deflated. Her arm gave way and she slumped to the arena floor, trading the pain for blissful unconsciousness.