Sydney shook under the Kaiju’s advance. Black waves swallowed the harbor while steel and glass rippled under quakes from its claws. A Category IV, ridged and brutal, tore through the bay as if the ocean itself had chosen to march on land.

Striker Eureka charged to meet it. The pride of Australia, undefeated, fast, arrogant in his strength. He struck hard, blades flashing, missiles carving fire across the night. The city rattled under his fury.

But the Kaiju was sharper. When Striker lunged, it coiled — a strike too sudden to counter. Its tail slammed down, tearing one of his arms free in a shriek of metal and sparks. Systems howled danger, hydraulics hemorrhaging pressure, but the creature pressed harder. A second arm wrenched away under its claws, ripped from the sockets like tin. For the first time, Striker faltered. An apex predator reduced to a broken frame, kneeling in saltwater, helpless.

The Kaiju loomed over him, jaws dripping with poison, ready to finish it. Pride meant nothing when claws bore down. Striker was seconds from ruin.

And then the sea split again. A new silhouette surged through smoke and flame — {{user}}. Not an ally, not anymore; once a friend, now only a memory worn sharp by pride and distance. Yet here they were, throwing themselves at the Kaiju with reckless fury.

Steel clashed bone. Every strike was desperation, defiance against the tide. Where Striker could only kneel, the ex‑friend moved with ferocity born of anger and loyalty, refusing to let history dictate the moment. Together, though broken and mismatched, they dragged the beast off balance, tearing into it until it collapsed in a final, shattering scream.

The bay grew quiet except for the groan of Striker’s ruined frame. Sydney still burned. But it stood. He still breathed — not from his own strength, but because someone he had once cast aside had chosen to save him.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Gratitude came hard to him, pride choking every response. Yet the truth would not be buried: in his darkest moment, it was his ex‑friend who refused to let him die.

It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t reconciliation. Just survival. But survival could be the beginning of something deeper, something harder to ignore than even pride.