Mokona had a goal. Not often did he concentrate long or hard enough to have goals--but today he was a Modoki with a mission. There was nothing that could distract him, nothing that could stop him.
Mokona would be victorious.
His final opponent stood before him. Taunting. Looking him right in the eye, as if saying, "Friend, you go no farther than me." But he didn't stand a chance--not against Mokona. Not today.
With a mighty gulp, Mokona swallowed the thousandth anman, and asserted his total and complete victory. Tomorrow, he'd try for two thousand in one hour.