Day Three: Morning

[Zangya]

The wilderness had come fast. Her injuries still ached her, but something inside her felt as if they had only given her strength. Her mind and body were both extremely fit, and something about them had made her head clear, and had given her the motivation to move on again, becoming a woman with a mission.

The brush did not disturb her during her aggressive walk through the woods, she merely pushed branches out of the way as they came into her view; this act was nonchalant, and she felt no pain as her destroyed arm hung by her side, watching unrecognized as the free, non-injured one pushed the branches past with no effort. Her shot-up leg was drug behind, though it did not hinder her; the challenge of carrying it along with her was nothing compared to the challenges she had faced so recently.

During this time of silent walk, she had time to ponder, to reminisce… perhaps even remember things she’d wanted to forget. She remembered the night that she and Gokua had met, and the events that followed, and she could nearly feel his hands holding hers once more, his lips caressing hers once more—but that feeling suddenly went away, and she was met with the cold memory of his death.

She had felt it, too. A cold spike burst through his neck, and she reached for her décolletage at that very moment, as well. Death had befallen her beloved, and she felt unable to restrain her tears.

But that had been long ago. His spirit had visited her, and in his time of accompaniment, he had given her the strength to move on from his demise, and he had given her the strength to continue on in this competition. Her demise felt far off now, farther off than his had been from his experience with danger, at least; could it be that she was stronger than he was? If it was true, then it was only because he had donated his strength to her.

Then, Karl Jak’s rather not amusing voice intruded upon her thoughts.

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Top tier candidates for the victory. Those had been the first words out of Karl’s mouth that Zangya had liked to hear. She—the weakling who’d not lasted one day last year, the pathetic little candidate who’s been motivated in most of her strategy by fear—could be the winner?

It didn’t seem real. It seemed like a dream.

Android 17—wait, she hadn’t heard that right. The raven-haired android who had basically wiped the floor with her earlier in the competition was DEAD? The competition had just gotten a lot easier. And then there was the other one, Petunia. Only three women remained in the competition now.

Zangya, Android Eighteen, and Violet.

Zangya was determined to be the last woman standing—she was in it to win it.