What could be next?

    Flying away from the brief battle zone, Lottus held Jagaimo gingerly against his torso, tucked in his arms. It was not an easy flight - the city of ruins was hundreds of miles from Sadala, at an almost midpoint between the Saiyan capitol city and the Tuffles' last great stronghold city of Hatchi. His strength was spent, ebbing as time passed in the flight, but his pride as a Saiyan, and his own stubbornness would not permit him to stop.

    Not with Jagaimo in his arms. And not now... that he'd learned a staggering truth. She is with child - his child. A daughter. The very notion that his strength would fail in something as meager as a flight was absolutely unacceptable. Even still, his wounds still were not fully closed, and the fresh wounds from Zuqetta's blades driving through his armor and into his back, thigh, and through his right hip-side abdomen still bled fresh. His hair had become caked in his blood, and earlier bleeding had dried on his clothes and armor as well.

    The muscles in his arms had begun to twitch as he grew more tired, and more than once, he had drooped somewhat in the flight. Soon enough, against the whipping winds, the horizon of Sadala began to come into view in the distance. But the capitol was not his goal; rather, he town situated at the outskirts of the city, connected to the Capitol with roads and thrumming with Saiyans flying either on their own power, or with hovering vehicles, was his intended location - the Radditsu District.

    Lottus continues flying low over the town, reaching the familiar street where the Brawl Hole was located. Lottus drops, his feet hitting the ground; and his knees almost buckle under his own weight. With a stubborn grunt, Lottus straightens and starts walking up the street, drawing confused looks from nearby Saiyans. Upon reaching the front of the Brawl Hole, Lottus shoulders the door open, and is met with the raucous and lively noise of dozens of Saiyans enjoying their food and drinks. Heads turn at the noise, and the bar falls silent as Lottus stomps through the wide room.

    He pays none of them any attention, not even to the staff, who's eyes were darting from Lottus to Jagaimo being carried. Moving purely on stubborn auto-pilot, Lottus turns the handle to Jagaimo's living quarters, shouldering the door open and passing the threshold into the home. Lottus brings Jagaimo to her bed, laying her down on it whether she were awake or not. He gazes at her for a moment, and turns away to go into the living room. His broken armor is pulled off, discarded in the corner, and the long-sleeved compression shirt he was wearing - caked and stiff with dried and semi-dried blood - is peeled off with a pained groan.

    The majority of his battle scars are displayed - past wounds from blaster rifles and blades, jagged marks on his left arm and shoulder from his fight with Kabe, whom had tried to bite chunks off of him, leathery-looking skin stretching from his hip to his neck from the flames he'd suffered from battling Zhalla, Russ, and Taori, as well as the twin claw marks in the shape of an X from the half-breed Dark, and the sword wound stretching from shoulder to shoulder across his sternum from Rhapsody Shade's sword, and the now long healed wounds he suffered from his battle with Gandigan.

    Now, new wounds would scar - the half dozen holes across his arms, back, and legs from harpoons puncturing his flesh from the ambush by Otama and Yangcong, none of which had healed yet due to how he had been frozen, and the new wounds from Zuqetta's magic blades that still bled, though with far less flow than during the battle. Every single scar was proof of his refusal to die - these wounds would not kill him either, he decided.

    Lottus stumbles, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor - leaving an unfortunate red smear on the wall. He grunts irritably, and positions himself back-first against the wall, and lets his head thump back against the wall as well, and just breathes. The muscles in his arms and legs twitch without control as the last vestiges of adrenaline begins to wear off. His eyes, heavily lidded with exhaustion, stare up at the ceiling.

    "...What... what do I do..?" he mutters. There were so many enemies he'd made. He had to deal with them - he had to deal with all of them. Sooner, not later. They'd all have to die - and die again if need be. The Mazoku, the Earthlings, all of them. Russ teaming up with Yangcong and killing Salvo, and Yangcong showing it to Lottus, meant that they'd all absolutely use this situation against him. They'd weaponize Jagaimo and their daughter to hurt him if they found out. He had to protect them, he had to. "...I have to... kill them all..."

    He had to do it. Which meant he had to go NOW. But as Lottus tries to stand, he finds his body not responding. His arms and legs felt so heavy. He'd lost too much blood, maybe. Or the sudden exertion after tasting freedom again was too much for his body.

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