Moon slowly blinks awake, the dull light of the transport boat filtering through the small, barred window of his prison cell. His body aches, remnants of the fierce battle against Ryker lingering in every muscle. He shifts on the cold metal cot, the reality of his situation crashing down on him like a wave. 'What a disgrace…' he thinks bitterly, recalling the clash with Admiral Ryker. 'I let my pride get the better of me, and now I'm here captured like some common criminal.' He clenches his fists, trying to suppress the surge of anger that bubbles within him.
The sound of the boat creaking and the distant shouts of guards serve as a stark reminder of his captivity. Moon runs a hand through his disheveled hair, frustration mounting. 'I should have been stronger. I should have fought harder.'
Moon's thoughts drift to the implications of his defeat. The World Government must see me as a failure now. A liability. The realization hits him hard. His reputation as an Admiral, once a source of pride, now feels like a weight on his shoulders.
"What will they do with me?" he wonders, anxiety gnawing at him. "Will they imprison me for good? Execute me? Or…" His eyes narrow at the thought.
"Will they send me back into the field? To confront Yuma again?" He sits up, the cot creaking under his weight, and looks around the dimly lit cell. The air is heavy with the scent of damp metal and the distant smell of salt from the sea. 'I need to escape.' The thought ignites a flicker of determination within him. 'I still need to stop the impending war between Alien King and Demon Lord Buki'
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The battlefield is a chaotic maelstrom of violence, with Yuma standing amidst a sea of World Government soldiers. Bodies litter the ground, remnants of his relentless assault. His fists are bloodied, and his breath comes in heavy gasps, yet the horde continues to surge forward, seemingly endless.
"One versus a thousand…" Yuma exhales, his mind racing. Each soldier that falls only seems to draw another into the fray. The initial adrenaline has faded, leaving behind a weariness that clings to him like a shroud.
"Why won't they just stay down?" Yuma steps forward. With a swift motion, he dodges a clumsy strike from a soldier and retaliates with a brutal uppercut, sending the man sprawling. The sound of crunching bones and pained gasps fills the air. Yuma feels a brief rush of satisfaction, but it's quickly overshadowed by the weight of fatigue settling in.
"I can't keep this up forever," he acknowledges, shaking off the growing exhaustion. His muscles scream in protest, and the mental fatigue weighs heavily on him. The sound of clashing steel, screams, and gunfire is almost deafening, and he struggles to maintain focus amidst the chaos.
"Is this all you've got?" he taunts, his voice ringing out defiantly, though inside he feels the flicker of doubt. He steps forward, swinging his fist, cracking the air, taking out a good half of the army in front of him. Jumping forward as he spins and delivers a roundhouse kick, catching two soldiers off guard and sending them crashing to the ground.
'They're just pawns', he reminds himself, but the cold reality of his actions begins to gnaw at him. 'I'm just making it easier for the real monsters to operate.'
As he continues to fight, he feels a creeping sense of isolation. Surrounded by countless enemies yet utterly alone, the mental toll becomes almost unbearable. Yuma pauses for a moment, wiping sweat from his brow, glancing around at the endless tide of soldiers rushing toward him.
"What am I even fighting for?" The question lingers in his mind like a specter. He remembers his resolve to take down the World Government and expose their evils, but that fire feels dimmer now. 'Is this what Kuza wanted?' He steels himself, reminding himself of the stakes.
"If I falter, who will stand against them?" The faces of his friends flash through his mind, their lives hanging in the balance. With a deep breath, he shakes off the doubt, pushing it down where it can't cloud his judgment.
"Let's finish this!" he roars, gathering what little energy remains. He charges forward once more, throwing himself into the fray. Each punch feels heavier, each dodge takes more effort, but he refuses to relent. Yuma slides along the ground as Admiral Fuyuno Vlast glares at him from above. Yuma smirks widely.