Chapter 176: Dragon's Flight, Tiger's Fight — Crossfire: Dead Heat
Watching other works and movies in the same category as what I'm writing really gets the pen moving.
No Face: "Get crushed, oraaaaaa!"
Sylvia: "Too slow, too slow! I'm not falling for that again... Whoa, that was close!"
Tch, even the full-speed slam I'd been saving got dodged. Katzo would've fallen for it almost first-try. Dammit, I caught her off guard last round, but she's already adapted. You got a TAS wired into your brain or something, you bastard?
It's no good. High-Mobility Cursed Prison has the horsepower, but the movements are just too big and telegraphed. I'm using super-pivot turns and drifting to somehow fake my way through with small, choppy motions, but she'll have me completely figured out before this round is over. Two ways out of this. One: Cursed Prison's Ultimate, which is almost fully charged... It'll be a quick fight, but I can secure a definite advantage.
And the other... It should be here. It should be coming any moment now. Was the sabotage not enough?
Sylvia: "Good, good, this is really good, Cursed Prison! It's not about strong or weak—fighting you gets my heart racing...!"
No Face: "Much obliged!"
Sylvia: "But that's not good enough. If you're Cursed Prison, you've got to be more arrogant!"
She wants me to stick to the source material? I barely know more than a summary about Cursed Prison... Left!
Gliding along the ground as if skating, Metius kicks off the air with utterly natural ease and reverses direction. She steps from right to left in an instant, and I reflexively fold my left arm tight into a guard stance. In the next moment, two impacts slam into my left arm, and I barely manage to keep my crumbling posture upright.
Sylvia: "I'm getting used to those moves too. I'm coming for you!"
No Face: "How kind of you to announce it!"
What now? Attack with the Ultimate? Or... There it is.
No Face: "It's here, it's here, it's here, it's heeeeere!!"
Sylvia: "Wha—!"
I'll accept a bit of damage! Changing action policy! Emergency withdrawal from this location!!
While guarding against her fierce onslaught—a blend of dance-like elegance and ferocity—I close in the instant she unleashes a huge roundhouse kick. Yeah, that's right. In the end, fighting game characters have fundamentally lateral power relationships. They can't force an absolute top-down hierarchy like that bastard could. And it's precisely because of the power of the "electronic brain"—something the human mind can't achieve—that his techniques held such terrifying lethality.
No Face: "Monkey see, monkey do, just kidding..."
A roundhouse kick slams into the side of my head. The damage is by no means light, but as a heavyweight character, Cursed Prison isn't going to be sent flying by a single roundhouse. Spitting flames from my mufflers, I reach out and seize Metius by the neck.
I’ll borrow—steal—this one from you, Wethermon!
No Face: "Ooshike!!"
Closing in, lifting, a full-body throw. The original—Wethermon himself—solved all those various elements with sheer power, but lacking that absurd level of force, I use technique to mimic the Unique Monster's throwing move.
Ooshike's greatest feature is the terrifying speed from the grab to the throw to the slam into the ground. By the time you realize you've been grabbed, you're already smashed into the earth and dead—a cruel first-timer killer aimed at the moment of relief when you think you've disarmed him. But that move was both incredibly troublesome and incredibly alluring.
By closing in myself, I shorten the frames between the grab and entering the throw. Then by driving my tires, I assist the body-twisting motion needed to hurl her. From Metius's perspective, by the time she tries to shake off the grabbing hand, she should already feel like she's been slammed. And after hurling her, after releasing Metius's neck, I keep spinning. The moment my back is turned to her, smashed into the ground, I spin both tires in the same direction at full power. In other words: I make a rapid withdrawal from the area. I feel like I hear a voice from behind telling me not to run, but... well, shut up and wait.
Time for a wardrobe change.
Good! Very Good! Amazing! I'd been grabbed, and by the time I realized it, I'd been smashed into the ground. The gimmick is understandable, but to pull it off in that situation, from a split-second opening...!
She's fought countless Cursed Prison users. Amelia is strong but one step short. Alex doesn't main the character but is reasonably strong. That guy, and that guy too. They were certainly strong—some were even faithful to the roleplay. But they weren't enemies for Sylvia—for Metius. In that respect, the Cursed Prison she's fighting now doesn't have particularly outstanding technical ability.
But among the countless Cursed Prisons she's fought... this one has authenticity. It's not about strong or weak. She can feel it intensely: it's not Sylvia fighting an opponent—it's Metius fighting Cursed Prison.
Sylvia Goldberg is the strongest. Her strength, her portrayal of Metius so faithful to the source material, was such that the author of the comic Metius himself declared, "She is the real Metius." And precisely because of that, she had always harbored a certain dissatisfaction.
A hero cannot be a hero with just a hero alone. A hero shines only because there is an enemy, a villain. If I am the real Metius, then where in the world is the real Cursed Prison?
Loving the character Metius more than anyone, mastering Metius more than anyone—that's why she's been searching all this time. Not an obsession born from loving someone. Not the exaltation of facing a powerful opponent who might end her undefeated streak. But rather, an existence worthy of unleashing Metius's cry—the one that screams, "This one, I have to defeat with everything I have, no matter what."
Sylvia: "I've finally found you, Cursed Prison."
By the time she recovers from the throw, Cursed Prison is already gone from her field of vision. She frowns for an instant, wondering if he's gone to secure the Chaos Cube, but... no. Something inside her denies it. Then did he aim for a surprise attack? That too, she denies.
It's not his style to half-assedly abandon the fight to snatch a win. She holds that conviction, purely on intuition. Then why did he leave? He said "It's here"—which means he was waiting for something.
It can't be the Ultimate. If he said "it's here," then it's not something the player can actively control—it must be something to be received passively.
(What was he waiting for? Something that comes by the third round? I don't recall hearing about anything added each round... No.)
It's not the rounds you count—it's time. Since the first round began, through the second round, how much time has passed? Chaos City's situation moves in real time. What was Cursed Prison waiting for? No, that's wrong—what did he call...?
Sylvia: "No way."
Unlike a vehicle, it takes time to prepare. It's useful for Cursed Prison, hard to retrieve while fighting me, and it comes from the sky!
Sylvia: "No way!"
The sound of destruction—not left or right, not front or back. She looks up, and there—!!
No Face: "Been waiting for ya, main weapoooooon!!"
Sylvia: "...Haha, ahahahahaha! The best, this is the best, Cursed Prison!!"
Somehow, he's climbed all the way to the top floor of a building. And there, he dunks on a news helicopter—one that had descended low enough to nearly scrape the building, trying to get closer footage.
As the massive weight latches on, leaping from the building, the helicopter loses balance and plummets toward the ground. The moment the metal mass smashes into the earth, a huge explosion erupts, flames engulfing both the helicopter and Cursed Prison. Cursed Prison has the ability to destroy and absorb inorganic objects. If that's the case, then the explosion's flames are a curtain to conceal his wardrobe change—and parting that curtain, he emerges.
No Face: "Sorry for the wait. Wardrobe change."
If the form that absorbed the police bikes was a bare-handed white knight, then this is a Japanese samurai. Two helicopter propeller blades worn at the hip like katana, one gripped in each hand, the helicopter's armor worn like a suit of armor—his figure is truly that of an Eastern knight.
No Face: "High-Mobility isn't bad... but if I'm going all out, this one fits me a lot better."
Sylvia: "All out...? No, no. That's wrong, Cursed Prison."
Sylvia Goldberg has always fought at full strength—except when circumstances demanded otherwise. But in this battle, all her power, all her techniques, aren't enough. She won't be satisfied.
Sylvia: "I'm getting serious."
The hero of justice always wins. And justice shines brightest only when it fights against evil villains.
Guns aren't enough. Bare hands won't reach. So arm myself, and we're finally even.
The special object "News Helicopter" appears after a certain amount of damage and a certain amount of time have passed. It started with the question: why is that helicopter flying so absurdly low? I shot one down on a whim, used Cursed Prison's ability to wear it as armor, and then I realized for the first time why special objects are special.
No Face: "The helicopter's horsepower, four weapons—way more firepower than some crappy gun."
I don't really know what mysterious power Cursed Prison uses, but it seems he can strengthen the durability of absorbed objects to some extent. But the power of bullets doesn't increase that much. Landing a clean kick does more damage than hitting with a single shotgun blast. And for the propeller swords, reinforced as armor parts, their damage calculation is derived from Cursed Prison's own physical strength—which means they hit harder than bare hands.
No Face: "I've been maining dual-wield lately, so this fits like a glove."
If I'm greedy, I'd say if it were AGI-focused instead of STR-focused, I could move exactly like my SLF avatar, but I won't ask for too much.
No Face: "I'll fillet you."
Sylvia: "Bring it!"
The helicopter engine on my back roars, surging power through my entire body. I bring down the left sword—easily dodged—and from her evasion, Metius launches a fierce counterattack. But unlike the High-Mobility form from earlier—fast but with poor turning—I can pull off tricks like this now.
No Face: "Monkey see, monkey do, just kidding... Tachikaze!!"
I abandon the left sword. I even throw away the right sword. I seize the spare sword worn at my left hip, and from an iai stance, I "draw" the blade in a lightning-fast strike. Astonishingly, Metius dodges even this. Seriously? I had her completely caught just now.
No Face: "But you're wide open!"
Sylvia: "Guuh... Not done yet!"
With my left hand—still at my hip—I form a fist and slam it into Metius, who ducked to evade the iai draw. Shallow hit. I re-grip the sword in my right hand with both hands and close the distance in a single burst. Slash down, sweep across, thrust—all of them are dodged, and I take hits in return. Aah, necessary expenses—collateral damage. Cursed Prison's got HP to spare, so I just need to land hits on Metius for sure. I guard anything that might cause hitstun, and the moment an opening appears, I slam my sword into her gut. Metius, tall by ordinary human standards, looks small compared to Cursed Prison, who could fairly be called a giant. I chase after Metius, sent flying with tremendous force, while retrieving the two swords I threw at the start. Dual-wielding once more, I launch a pursuit.
Sylvia: "At this level, I won't—the shooting star Metius won't stop!!"
No Face: "I'm stopping your goddamn breath, you moron!!"
Slash down with the right sword, a few frames of delay, then a horizontal sweep with the left—a cross slash. Evaded with minimal movement. Then Metius goes into a handstand-like posture, knees and elbows bent, her whole body coiling like a spring. In the next instant, her body extends like a released spring, and the kick that fires out blasts through my jaw.
No Face: "Gu, oh...!?"
No pain—just a blackout as if my senses were forcibly severed for an instant. My vision crushes, and strength nearly drains from my whole body. Shit, is this the stun animation?!
Sylvia: "Got you!!"
No Face: "Like hell you do!"
Becoming a punching bag here is bad. Getting hit will break the stun, but eating a full combo is bad. Can I stuff it...!? Impact to the gut—the stun lock breaks. My vision and strength recover. Before I can right my stance, Metius's figure... She's coming. A combo that hits the gut once, then chains into an elbow strike. If I eat this, I'm in checkmate territory.
Sylvia: "No way, you can stuff it?!"
No Face: "Iaifist-style stuffing technique."
I hold the left sword in a reverse grip, using it as a shield to block the elbow strike. One second later and I'd be dead. Current remaining HP: me, a little over fifty percent. Metius, sixty percent. I'm slightly on the back foot... but I'll turn this around from here.