This chapter is an entry for the Round 2 of Knockout held by the Action profile.

Kaya balls herself on the hay-floored cell, flooding the walls with complaints and insults which redden any innocent ears.

She came fresh from the first round of the Inter-Universe Championship—representing Jupiter—with gashes, bruises, and a contaminated pride to meet this ill continuation.

It's better to be Khal Drogo's soulless shell in the frozen chamber.

A male's deserted voice interfered. He's armed with a shield and a golden armor, which distinguishes him from Captain America.

Do these people acknowledge her 'time-out'?

"The next opponent has—AH!"

Kaya froze as he lost his balance to a giant beast. It licks the blood substance from the opposite bars, griming its fierce features. Kaya pinned her cries in her throat while tossing her brain's insides for a recognition of the earthly beast.

"We present you the first match of the second round... Jupiter versus Mufasa the Lion!" The speakers cause a turmoil to the eardrums and rouse Kaya's composed self.

If only she took zoology as her major while getting stranded on Earth!

Mufasa bares its greedy teeth at the paralyzed warrior. Its claws are worth comparing to her sword's teeth, and its body doubled hers in size.

Her perfectionist ego starts planning. "No missed hits. It's witnessed by—AH!"

It pounces and pins Kaya with its claws, shredding the top of her feathered tunic. A harsh pain immobilizes her arms. She lowers her neck and pokes the hays to block its vision.

Ouch. She forgot her weapon's situated between her and the floor! Her instincts are humiliating!

Can't this beast give her an injury time to figure out whose choreography she should mimic while fighting?

If only she hired a personal combat trainer while getting stranded on Earth!

She lets out a gurgling roar. Aiming for the meaty neck. The gnawing pain reduces her speed, but regardless, she flings her left arm—though unprepared.

It tears the meat slightly open. Her eyes lost focus at the contact with the weighty paws. The coordination ebbs from her limbs.

She ignores its roars after she scarred its maw and jerks its weight off her flattened body.

It's as if there's a bonfire in her chest—providing plenty of carbon dioxide to constrict herself. The air leaves her lungs like a deflated balloon.

They exchange roars and gashes. A wound for a wound. The hays act as a double-agent, sometimes working for her, sometimes against her.

She recklessly tosses herself aside after releasing all her energy in a kick to its middle and grips her sword with bloodied hands.

Mufasa lifts both its paws, facing her, prepared to rip her tissue open.

Zing! The sword shakily lands on its forehead, stabbing the wildly-scarred wall. A curt roar escapes its muzzle.

Its teeth lost a split second from the shark's ones.

She has survived another animalistic and unplanned battle. Her perfectionist self is remorseful.

She falls giddily on the floor.

"Applaud the winner of this gory and embarrassing battle—Jupiter!"