The air was thick with tension as Roman and Neato faced each other, their eyes locked in a deadly stare. Both knew that this would be their final confrontation, a battle that would determine the fate of everything. With a silent agreement, they both charged at each other with blinding speed, the ground trembling beneath their feet.
As their swords clashed, the force of their strikes sent shockwaves rippling through the earth. The impact was so intense that it caused multiple earthquakes to erupt across the desolate landscape. In the distance, massive hurricanes began to form, their destructive winds tearing apart the remnants of a once-living world. Yet, amidst this chaos, Roman and Neato fought on, neither willing to give an inch.
The battle was fierce, with both combatants pushing themselves to their limits. Neato, ever the calculating predator, began to increase his speed little by little. His movements became a blur, each strike faster and more precise than the last. Meanwhile, Roman, despite his best efforts, found himself slowing down. His once-powerful armor began to crack under the relentless assault, and his strength waned with every passing second.
In a flash, Neato struck Roman across the chest, his blade cutting deep into the armor and flesh beneath. Blood spurted from the wound, but Roman refused to fall. Instead, he pushed himself harder, his determination fueling a desperate burst of speed. But as Neato's assault continued, Roman's resolve began to falter. Doubt crept into his mind as the realization of his situation dawned on him.
"What am I even fighting for?" Roman thought as he struggled to keep up with Neato's relentless attacks. "All the humans are dead..."
Before he could finish the thought, Neato struck again, this time severing Roman's right arm at the shoulder. The limb, still clutching the white sword, fell to the ground with a dull thud. Roman gasped in pain, dropping to his knees, his body battered and broken. Neato stood over him, silent and unmoving, a dark shadow cast by the crimson moon above.
Roman, bloodied and defeated, looked up at the night sky, the red moon glaring down at him like an unforgiving eye. "Make it quick and end me," he muttered, closing his eyes, resigned to his fate.
But as he waited for the final blow, a vision suddenly flashed before his mind's eye. He saw himself as a child, standing in a bright, warm field. In the vision, young Roman looked up at his father with wide, innocent eyes and a heart full of hope.
"Dad, I promise... when I grow up, I'll be the hero the world needs," the child Roman said, his voice filled with determination.
The memory stirred something deep within Roman's soul. The world he had fought to protect, the people he had sworn to save, the hero he had once dreamed of becoming—they all came flooding back to him. His eyes snapped open, a newfound fire igniting within him.
Neato, sensing Roman's resolve, moved behind him, ready to deliver the killing blow. But in a sudden, swift movement, Roman, now without hands, grasped the sword in his mouth. With a final, desperate surge of strength, he swung the blade with all his might, cutting through Neato's lower left arm.
Neato recoiled, startled by the unexpected attack. The severed limb fell to the ground, and for the first time in the battle, Neato took a step back, momentarily caught off guard. Roman, now panting heavily, still knelt on the ground, blood pouring from his wounds, but his spirit remained unbroken.
END OF CHAPTER 56