[Breathing becomes increasingly difficult, your eyelids grow heavier, and the lethal gas continues to invade your body. You feel yourself becoming weaker, acutely aware of your life slipping away...]
[It's all over.]
[With this thought, you suddenly recall a seemingly insignificant detail from the day before you fell unconscious. Your cousin had visited you, showing you a small mechanical beast he had built (a cub).]
[You warmly received him, pointed out the beast's flaws, and even helped improve it. During the modification, a splinter pierced your pinky finger, but you dismissed it, treated it lightly, and took a pill.]
[In that moment, something clicks in your mind.]
[Tears start streaming down your face uncontrollably. You cry and laugh simultaneously, gradually forming a cold smile at the corner of your mouth as you mutter: "You want me to die? To become a cripple? To live like an ant for the rest of my life?"]
["I refuse to let you have your way!"]