Chapter 178: The Reckless Forbidden Star: Overheat
My body is light. After hauling around that heavy armor for three straight rounds, I can move so freely it's almost terrifying.
Sylvia: "So fast...!"
No Face: "What's wrong, undefeated queen? Never been overtaken by anyone before?"
Sylvia: "Unfortunately, I'm undefeated!"
I got beaten black and blue in Round 1. I pushed back in Round 2, but it was still a pain in the ass. Now in Round 3, I'm paying it all back double with interest. Metius puts two meters between us with a backstep. Prison Breaker takes one step forward, closes three meters, and passes Metius. I’m behind the hero now. I spin and slam a roundhouse kick into Metius’s back. Metius barely gets a guard up in time, but the power difference is real. Metius doesn’t go flying, but the hero’s stance wavers.
Sylvia: "I'm surprised... That's your real main style, isn't it!"
No Face: "Sorry to say, my battle style's got a pretty wide diet!"
If it's the optimal solution, I'll run mage. I'll run gorilla. Hell, I'll run half-naked freak. That's what clearing a game is all about! Metius tries to reset with an air jump, but Prison Breaker can kick off the air twice. I catch up to Metius in the sky, stomp off the empty air, and drive a roundhouse kick into Metius.
No Face: "What's wrong, what's wrong?! You planning to chicken out and ride out the time limit?!"
Sylvia: "Fufufu... It starts now!"
You're kidding me. Metius can still move faster?! Fine! Burn, caffeine! Like nitro!! Between my HP and my super, there's no stopping anymore. Attack, attack, keep attacking—if I don't push through, she'll push me back. I focus so hard smoke might come out of my ears, chasing the freely darting Metius and relentlessly throwing out attacks. Ten seconds gone. With twenty seconds left, Metius—who'd been purely on the defensive—makes her move.
Sylvia: "Let's settle this!"
No Face: "Let's fucking do it!"
No people around. Abandoned cars. A bent street sign. I see. So this is the final battle stage. With this many objects doubling as footholds, Prison Breaker can deliver peak performance here. And the same goes for Metius, who's the same type.
???: "...!"
Metius sprints up a car, kicks off the bent signpost to accelerate. Since I can't do anything but evade, I dodge and aim a leg sweep at the moment Metius lands. My leg swings like a scythe, knocking the hero off balance. Metius falls backward... no, doesn’t.
Sylvia: "Not done yet!"
Twisting in midair, Metius flips from a back-down position to face-down, landing in a push-up stance. Then, using nothing but the strength of both arms, Metius springs up like a jack-in-the-box. And from that spring, Metius fires a full-swing kick at my face—still locked in the posture of my leg sweep—like punting a soccer ball. If that hits, I'm dead. I twist my neck and use my arm to redirect the kick's vector. The grinding scrape of Metius’s toes against my arm translates directly to lost HP. But I'm not going down without a fight. I grab Metius’s leg as it swings through, and as I stand up, I yank with all my strength, pulling Metius into a giant swing setup.
No Face: "Ten seconds left!"
I'm ending this right here!! I don’t swing Metius around. I slam Metius straight into the ground. But the moment I abandoned the full swing motion, Sylvia seems to have read my move. A defensive mash knocks Metius’s ankle out of my grip, and after a few backflips, Metius resets her stance. My thoughts accelerate even further. I can feel the caffeine inside me burning out at a ferocious rate. By the time Metius’s ankle leaves my hand, my body is already moving. I close the distance Metius created with those backflips and launch a rush of punches. Sylvia tries to guard through it, but... Don't underestimate the Iaifist style.
No Face: "If there's a twelve-frame gap, I can stuff it...!"
The world and characters are built from data, but the ones controlling them are flesh-and-blood humans. It's impossible to keep producing the optimal response to every external impact with zero deviation. There will always be a crack. And that split-second crack is the true essence of the Iaifist battle style—a style that, among all these inhuman fighting games, relatively maintains a human form! The ultimate outside-the-game tactic that exploits the biological instincts binding these inhuman monsters to a "human form"! Under the repeated impacts, Metius’s guard wavers for a single instant. In that tiny moment when the shield formed by Metius’s arms shows a gap, my right hand tears through the air with a howl.
No Face: "There!!"
Sylvia: "Gah—!?"
Not a punch. Not a kick. A single-point break-through spearhand—five fingers stretched straight—stabs through the gap in Metius's arms and pries them open by force. Metius’s eyes widen in shock. My fingertips drive into Metius’s throat, and the biological reality of having a vital spot struck locks Metius’s body rigid.
No Face: "Diiiiiiieeeeeee!!"
I yank my right arm back, tense my whole body, and twist. Using my right leg as the sole pillar to support the rotational energy, I spin like a top and unleash a roundhouse kick with my left leg, pouring every last ounce of energy into it.
Certainty of victory. Katzo, the tournament, everything—it all blows out of my head. My thoughts sharpen to a single point: this one blow.
But even so. Or maybe I should say—as expected. Even with her HP shaved down to ten percent by my furious assault, even with Metius’s body locked not by system hitstun but by pure primal fear... Yes, even in this single instant, with checkmate looming and no way out, Sylvia Goldberg was still a "pro gamer."
Sylvia: "Don't you fucking underestimate me!!"
Sylvia tears away the chains of instinct with sheer will, forcing Metius back into action. With a scream that practically drips killing intent, Metius also shifts into a kicking stance. A normal kick won't have enough power. A roundhouse won't be fast enough. So the final blow she chooses... is a high kick, snapping Metius’s leg upward to its absolute limit, right there on the spot.
Three seconds. Two seconds. One second... Zero.
No Face: "Guh—!!"
Sylvia: "Guha—!!"
Our kicks collide. The impact from Metius’s toes, driven into my chest, tears through the pectoral muscle and shakes my ribs and heart. My roundhouse kick, buried into Metius’s side, tears through the boneless spot and hammers his internal organs. Seconds of silence. The system's damage calculation shaves away both our HP... A few seconds that feel like hours pass, and the result is output.
No Face: "Gh..."
Strength drains from my entire body. The sensation of my vision blacking out—this is unmistakably what happens when your HP hits zero.
She pulled an attack-after counter from that position... What is she, a monster...?
In the end, an amateur gamer couldn't beat the undefeated pro gamer. That's it, huh? The final sight I see in my fading vision is the form of the victor...
???: "Ah..."
Strength drains from the opponent’s entire body, and Metius collapses.
DOUBLE KO