Gilga powers through the waves, his strokes strong and relentless as the warship looms closer. Overhead, missiles continue to rain down upon the ruined lands, each explosion fueling his hunger for conquest. Reaching the ship's side, he grips the metal ladder and hoists himself up, his drenched body moving with precision as he climbs aboard.
Once on deck, he crouches low, his sharp eyes scanning the area. A pair of guards stand nearby, engaged in conversation in their native tongue. Without hesitation, Gilga creeps forward, his steps silent against the steel. In an instant, he wraps his arm around one guard's throat, cutting off his air supply. The man struggles, clawing at Gilga's grip, but within seconds, his body goes limp.
The second guard turns, alarmed by the sudden silence, his rifle already raising—but he is too slow.
Gilga quickly snatches the pistol from the fallen guard's belt and fires. The shot cracks through the air, the bullet piercing clean through the man's skull. He collapses instantly.
The gunfire does not go unnoticed.
Footsteps thunder across the deck as more guards rush toward the commotion.
Gaia, still clinging to the ship's ladder, barely manages to press herself against the metal as the guards storm past. She holds her breath, waiting until the coast is clear before slipping aboard. Moving quickly, she skirts along the ship's exterior, navigating toward a different entry point. She reaches the opposite side of the ship and quietly enters through a hatch leading to the top deck.
Inside, dim screens cast a bluish glow over the room. A lone guard sits at a console, his fingers flying over a keyboard, his eyes locked onto the digital screen display before him. Gaia narrows her gaze, observing him closely. She watches his every movement, piecing together his actions until she realizes the truth—this man is controlling the missile system on the ship.
Silently, she advances.
With a sudden strike, she locks her arms around his neck and wrenches him back. He flails, gasping for breath, but she tightens her grip until his body goes still. With a shove, she casts him aside, her focus now on the console.
Activating ultra thinking, she replays every keystroke, every screen transition, every flicker of data. Her mind processes it all at hyperspeed. She breaks down the foreign symbols, memorizing the guard's finger placements, deciphering the patterns hidden within the language.
Hours of study compress into mere seconds.
Her golden eyes flashes with understanding.
Without hesitation, she begins typing, her fingers moving inhumanly fast as the screen floods with options and settings. The system resists, throwing security prompts and warnings, but she anticipates them all. Her brain works in tandem with her hands, a seamless fusion of thought and action.
Then, with one final keystroke—
SYSTEM SHUTDOWN
The missile interface powers down. The relentless bombardment comes to an abrupt halt.
Gaia exhales, flexing her fingers. "That should do it."
Deep within the ship, a grim reality unfolds. Dozens of guards bark orders at weary slaves, forcing them to labor under cruel conditions. Some scrub the floors, others haul heavy crates, and many are tasked with loading weapons. Around their necks, metal collars hum with energy—silent threats of pain should they falter.
One slave, his body frail yet resilient, pushes a cart loaded with missiles toward a machine. He moves with precision, carefully placing each missile inside. Suddenly—
ZAP!
His collar jolts him with a sharp electric pulse. He grits his teeth, stifling a cry as a guard looms over him, yelling in a foreign tongue. The message is clear.
"Faster."
The slave nods quickly and hastens his movements, shoving missiles into the machine with trembling hands. Then—without warning—the machine powers down. The glow of its interface flickers out, leaving only confusion in its wake.
The guard frowns, glancing at the inactive system. His eyes narrow.
With a quick motion, he raises his rifle and aims it at the slave. "Pick up a weapon."
The slave hesitates before nodding. He shuffles over to a nearby crate, prying it open to reveal an assortment of weapons. His fingers wrap around the hilt of a machete.
The guard, still suspicious, lifts his wrist device and speaks into it. A voice crackles through the static, issuing orders. Nodding in response, the guard motions for the slave to lead the way.
They ascend the stairs, the sounds of battle growing louder with every step. Gunfire erupts above deck—guards shouting, chaos unfolding. The slave instinctively ducks behind a crate, fear flashing in his eyes, but the guard yells at him again, demanding he move.
Reluctantly, the slave pushes forward.
They reach the top deck, and the slave steps through the door—only to freeze at the sight before him.
Gaia stands over the unconscious body of a guard, rummaging through his belongings. Her movements are quick and methodical, but she pauses when she notices the slave entering. Her gaze shifts from his collar to the machete in his grip.
Their eyes meet.
The slave stiffens, momentarily overwhelmed—not with fear, but awe. His breath catches in his throat as he stares at Gaia, utterly stunned by her beauty.
Gaia, in turn, studies his face, reading the hesitation in his expression. This one is not a threat.
The guard behind him, however, does not share the same sentiment.
"Move!" he barks.
The slave does not react. He is still staring at Gaia, as if trapped in a trance.
The collar around his neck beeps.
ZAP!
Agony surges through his body, his muscles locking up as he crumples to the ground. His machete clatters beside him.
The guard steps forward, rifle raised, eyes cold and unyielding.
The guard's eyes lock onto Gaia, and without hesitation, he fires his rifle.
BANG! BANG!
Gaia moves quickly, dodging the bullets with sharp precision before countering with a quick shot of her own. The bullet pierces the guard's shoulder, sending him staggering backward as his rifle clatters to the floor. He collapses, gripping his wound, hissing curses at Gaia in his native tongue.
Gaia coughs slightly, then, to the guard's surprise, speaks in his language. "Where is your commander? Let me speak to him. I do not wish to harm any of you."
The guard's face twists in shock. "So, it's true… you monsters from the sky can adapt and learn at unnatural speeds. But we will not fall for your lies!"
With a grimace, he reaches for the pistol strapped to his belt. Gaia tenses, ready to fire—
But before she can react, the slave lunges.
Still writhing from the shocks of his collar, the slave thrusts his machete deep into the guard's chest. The guard's breath hitches as blood spills from his lips. His body slumps lifelessly to the floor.
The slave, however, does not stop shaking—the collar continues its relentless punishment. His muscles twitch uncontrollably as he collapses, writhing on the ground.
Gaia steps forward, intending to help, but the slave weakly raises a trembling hand, signaling her to stay back. The warning is clear—if she touches him, she could be caught in the electric surge.
Gaia's eyes dart toward the dead guard's wrist device. Wasting no time, she kneels down, flipping the device over and pressing a series of buttons. The collar on the slave's neck sparks one last time before shutting down completely.
The slave gasps for air, his body still weak from the shocks, but after a moment, he manages to sit up. He looks at Gaia with gratitude. "Thank you."
Gaia nods. "Where is your commander?"
The slave shakes his head. "Forget that for now. I need to save my people. Once I do, the commander will come to us. Help me free them."
Gaia considers his words before giving a firm nod. "Alright, I'll help. But first, what's your name?"
The slave meets her gaze, determination burning in his eyes. "My name is Yuri."
Meanwhile, Kayle wakes up in a dark tunnel with barely any light. She coughs, picks herself up, and looks up to see how far she has fallen. Taking a deep breath, she begins walking down the tunnel, the light at the end gradually growing brighter.
As she reaches the tunnel's exit, she looks down from a cliff and sees a massive underground opening. At the entrance of various tunnels surrounding the open space, numerous Star players stand, their eyes locked on the scene before them. In the center, Lars stands with bloodied arms, surrounded by six lifeless Stars.
Her gaze shifts toward a massive gate nearby, then to a wall covered in text—but it's written in the native language of Doom Planet.
Lars' voice suddenly echoes through the cavern. "Let me save you all the trouble of deciphering what the wall says," he announces. "It states that once a worthy battle takes place, this gate will open, and the victor will receive a power strong enough to withstand the waves of doom."
The surrounding Star players are stunned for a moment before roaring in excitement. Then, as one, they charge toward Lars.
Lars lets out a fierce roar and yells, "Father! Are you watching?! This is where I will prove my worth to my entire noble family!"
Without hesitation, he launches himself into battle, his fists colliding with the rushing opponents. The gate flickers, pulsating with an eerie light.
Kayle spends five minutes deciphering the writing on the wall before muttering, "He wasn't lying at all. This power… it might help me score more points for better placements in the next game stage."
She turns her attention back to the fight below, watching as Lars dominates the battlefield. Each of his blows sends blood flying, his movements almost unnatural—like a wild beast unleashed. He punches, kicks, and strikes with terrifying precision.
After brutally slaughtering forty Star players, the ground becomes a pool of blood. The remaining Stars hesitate—some frozen in terror, others turning to flee. But Lars is relentless. He charges forward, his steps splashing through the blood, continuing his merciless slaughter with nothing but his bare hands.
Kayle narrows her eyes. "Even with all this bloodshed, the gate still doesn't recognize this as a worthy fight. Maybe it's because none of them are on Lars' level. I didn't expect to face him this early... but I'm not about to miss this chance to gain the upper hand in the Star Games."
Determined, she slides down the cliff, landing on the blood-soaked ground, ready to face Lars head-on.
As Kayle lands, a ripple spreads through the pool of blood, reaching Lars' feet. The moment it touches him, he abruptly halts his pursuit of the fleeing Stars and turns toward her. His bloodied eyes lock onto her with an intense gaze before he speaks.
"I can see it… Your aura is different from the others. You must be a worthy opponent. Let us show this gate a battle it will recognize!"
Kayle takes a deep breath as a flood of memories flashes through her mind in mere seconds—moments of her training with Lars, her time spent with Gaia, the moment Lars mercilessly beat her down, the disgrace of his noble exile, and the countless nights he struggled to sleep, haunted by his past.
Before she can dwell on it, Lars is already closing the distance. He charges at her with terrifying speed, forcing her to react instantly. She narrowly dodges a powerful punch, then counters with an upward kick that sends Lars flying straight into the ceiling. The impact echoes through the cavern, shocking everyone watching.
The gate suddenly radiates with an even more intense light—then, with a deep, resonant hum, it begins to open.
From the darkness beyond, underground natives emerge, their bodies covered in intricate purple paint markings. They chant in their native language as they step forward, parting to reveal their leader, who is carried out with great reverence. In his hands, he holds a shining purple box surrounded by an ominous aura.
The leader raises his voice, speaking in his native tongue. "The one who rises victorious shall be chosen by this ancient weapon!"
He opens the box, and a pair of magical gloves float into the air, glowing with a brilliant purple aura that engulfs the entire area in an eerie light.
Suddenly, from above, Lars comes crashing down, slamming into the blood-soaked ground with a force that sends crimson waves splashing in every direction. Kayle turns to face him as he begins to laugh, his grin wild and unshaken.
"You're strong… and you're from my planet?! A commoner too?! Well, I refuse to lose to such a lowly mortal!"
Without hesitation, they charge at each other once more, their movements causing the blood beneath them to splash violently with every step.
Meanwhile, Boa remains locked in an intense battle with the native leader, whose body is adorned with yellow-painted markings. He wipes his eyes, but the chanting of the surrounding witches only grows louder, their voices echoing through the battlefield as their fight rages on.
From the corner of his eye, Boa notices something strange—his memories floating in the air around him. He can't help but look as he's also fighting at the same time. He sees himself training as a pawn alongside many others, the moment with his fierce battle against Gilga, the harsh days spent in prison, the grueling labor in the mines, his relentless fights against the data creatures, and the unbreakable bonds he has forged with those around him. Then, he sees a memory of him, Hank, Crank, Jen, and the many prisoners facing the data dragon, a battle that shaped his resolve.
Suddenly, pain jolts him back to reality—the native leader slashes him across the chest with a tomahawk while he is distracted. Boa grits his teeth, refocusing, but then notices something odd. The native leader turns to look at the memory of Boa and his team fighting the data dragon.
In his native language, the leader speaks. "I see that you have endured much in your life… You have even faced creatures beyond the grasp of understanding."
Boa doesn't understand a single word, but his shock grows as he realizes the native leader can see the floating memories. What he thought was a hallucination is now undeniable—the witches are the ones causing his memories to spill into the air for all to witness.
His memory in the air shifts, showing the moment when Boa and his team fought with everything they had against the data dragon. Though the battle seemed impossible, his unyielding determination inspired those around him, driving them to fight beyond their limits. The memory then shows the triumphant moment when they finally slay the data dragon, the officers and prisoners alike erupting in celebration, praising Boa for his leadership and courage.
Boa and the native leader clash weapons once more, the impact ringing through the battlefield.
"I don't know what you're planning," Boa growls, "but I can't afford to die here!"
With a swift strike, he cuts the native leader on the shoulder, forcing him to leap back. The leader pauses, impressed, then raises a hand—his signal. His warriors respond instantly, arming their spears and preparing to charge.
Boa exhales, feeling his own blood drip onto the ground. He tightens his grip on his weapon and smirks. "Well, you're not going to make this easy, huh?"
Suddenly, a distant voice cuts through the chaos.
"BOA!"
From afar, Crank, Jen, and some of his men rush toward him. Boa doesn't turn to look—but he smiles. Knowing that is team is here to aid him.
Without hesitation, he surges forward, charging straight into the native warriors.