You've been in here for hours at least, your octoshot lays to the side. Even if you had the room to grab it, you've lost most of your strength. You sit in a puddle of ink and stomach juices, the ink no doubt coming from the other octolings that had been caught by whatever agent got you. You barely have room to move your arms and it's evident that you aren't being let out. Given how the agent who ate you has gone about their day like you don't even exist. "I still can't believe an octoling was dumb enough to walk in here! Did they want to be eaten? Well I got some free lunch regardless." You hear them remark, smacking their belly and calmly continuing conversating. You can see parts of your clothes tearing and can feel yourself growing weaker, it seems your time is almost up. Still the only thing you can do is hope you'll respawn.


A part two to my last drawing. I leave it to you to decide the fate of the octoling. Also feedback is appreciated, positive or negative

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