Despite being a powerful warrior, Michael wasn't a person who let his strength get to his head. He was rarely pushed to the brink, and usually, even then, he had some kind of backup plan to enact.
That was the image the crew held of him.
With the arrival of the recently rescued felines, along with the transportation vehicles they had pillaged, the crew had gathered at the camp's gates to welcome them.
Only to be startled when, out of nowhere, Cyberfang's once powerful frame, now reduced to a ruin of its former self, carved a trail before coming to a complete stop. Large parts of its body were covered in clear blood, shed by the ants the mechanical beast had slaughtered along the way.
Michael, blood-soaked and unconscious with one hand still gripping Devil, rested in his jaws.
"Goddamn it!" With a curse, Richard was the first to rush forward.
Stepping into Cyberfang's open jaw, he pulled out Michael's body.
"Boss! Are you alright? What happened?!"
