The night sky was filled with scattered bullets and lasers, an spectacle akin to the flurry of fireworks on New Year's Eve. Within the thrashing swarm of aircraft, an inconspicuous helicopter carried a soldier who lamented over the dwindling ammunition, waving his hand in resignation before slumping onto the deck.
"Forget it, we have barely any bullets left. We won't be able to get those 200 Yajins. We already have been fighting for so long without taking them down. It's better to save what we have left."
Once he said that, the pilot upfront relaxed his nerves as he sunk into hopelessness regarding the 200 Yajins.
"Let's just keep up appearances."
"Do you think we can really do it?"
The pilot remained silent, bleakly steering the helicopter among the fleet.
"If others from the Supervising Army see us like this, we won't be able to face them."
"Fine, as you wish."
