"Cough, cough... cough, cough!"
A bout of violent, gut-wrenching coughing came from within the charred wreckage of the battleship.
The sound was terribly hoarse, like a rusty saw blade being dragged desperately through sand.
A massive blackened armor plate, large enough to cover half a room, was forcibly flipped aside by a tyrannical surge of red chakra.
The armor plate spun away through the weightless void.
Revealing the two battered figures beneath it.
Momoshiki Ōtsutsuki, the young master of the Ōtsutsuki Clan's main family who had been so arrogantly untouchable just moments ago, proclaiming himself a god.
Now looked like a mangy dog that had rolled through a mud pit three times.
His luxurious white robe had long since been blasted into strips of rags hanging from his body, unable to conceal the blistered, bright-red skin scorched by the heat.
One of the strange horns atop his head, symbols of his noble bloodline, had also been blown halfway off.
Threads of bizarre purple-black blood seeped from the break.
"This... this fucking..."
Momoshiki knelt on one knee atop the still-scorching wreckage of the battleship.
He gasped for air, each breath feeling as though sandpaper were scraping through his lungs.
His once-lofty Byakugan were filled with spiderweb-like crimson veins, and a flying shard of metal had even torn a bloody gash at the corner of his eye.
He looked around.
His prized vessel, capable of interstellar jumps, had been reduced to a pile of twisted scrap-metal shells.
There was not even a place left to sit.
Momoshiki clenched his teeth so hard that bloody foam seeped from his gums.
His pale face twisted completely under the extreme humiliation and fury.
"These lowly natives! What sorcery did they use?!"
He roared at the black battleship floating nearby, his voice full of the shattered