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Jayas
The instant I reappeared inside my pod, a brief disorienting sensation washed over me, reminiscent of the time I’d woken up after a deep hibernation.
But there was no time to acclimate.
My eyes darted around, taking in the familiar layout.
To my left, an empty pod stood, save for the haunting remnants of blood motes floating in a dance of morbid beauty.
A thrill coursed through me as I grasped the weight of the plasma cannon in my hands.
The realization that I could use it to break free struck me like a bolt of lightning.
I had never considered resetting within my own pod, but with this weapon, the tantalizing promise of escape was within reach.
Taking a deep breath, I aimed the cannon at the pod’s glass walls.
My finger rested on the trigger, its pressure an exhilarating dance between hope and fear.
The walls of my prison seemed to mock me, their clarity a cruel reminder of the freedom that lay just beyond.
I squeezed the trigger, bracing myself for the blinding burst of light, the euphoria of release.
The cannon roared to life, its energy beam lashing out with an intensity that should’ve vaporized anything in its path.
Yet, when the light faded, I stared in shock at the pristine, untouched glass in front of me.
No crack, no damage…nothing.
The realization settled heavy in the pit of my chest.
The pods were designed to withstand even the most intense external threats.
A wave of despair threatened to engulf me, but I shook my head, pushing away the rising panic.
This couldn’t be the end.
I won’t let it be the end.
The suffocating nature of my pod only grew more palpable as the reality of the situation became clearer.
The Malquarans, those cunning creatures, were known for their superior technological advancements and obsessive need for security.
And it appeared they had applied that very genius to these prison pods, rendering them impervious to my efforts.
Again and again, I fired the plasma cannon at the glass, each beam as intense as the last.
Each time, the light would illuminate the small space, filling the pod with an ethereal glow.
And each time, when the blinding luminance dimmed, my hopes dimmed with it.
Not a scratch, not a crack, not a single mark to indicate that my efforts were making any progress.
The smooth, unyielding surface of the glass seemed to mock my desperation with its pristine clarity.
Frustration bubbled up within me, a fire in the pit of my stomach.
Was this to be my fate?
