"Hey, kid... can you hear me?" The voice echoes, faintly recognizing it as Cecil. But exhaustion blankets you, pulling you into the depths of sleep.

"...Damn it," the voice mutters in frustration. Every part of you throbs with pain, and a hand gently nudges your eyelid open, flooding your vision with harsh light, prompting a groan of discomfort.

"There you are. We're taking you back to the GDA," Cecil grunts, directing the medical team to attend to you. Through a haze, you feel them hoisting your limp, broken form onto a stretcher.