Dimensional Descent

The seething rage pumped through Leonel’s veins. He tried to rationalize it, but after a moment he was too pissed to do even that. Every time Manson felt like she was close to bursting his head like a watermelon, her body would be rocked by a wave of pleasure and spark yet another connection in Leonel Dreamscape.

After the third time, Leonel cut himself off from that bundle of connections entirely, his thoughts fuming. And yet, every time it happened, Manson’s face would only become more flushed and her actions more drunk.

Even as this happened, her kicking speed seemed to increase and her body became more limber. Leonel was suddenly having a tougher and tougher time predicting her next attack because they simply had no logic to them. This forced him to go from using his predictive model toward his muscle analysis model.

Leonel was under no illusions about his strength versus Manson’s no matter how pissed he was. As far as he could tell, Manson was Tier 2 of the Fifth Dimension while the rest of her companions were Tier 1.

Leonel wasn’t able to dodge her attacks because he was strong enough, he was completely relying on his ability to do so and that was quickly becoming almost impossible.

As though Manson was just stretching her limbs and only just getting into a rhythm, the whistling of her kicks became sharper and sharper, trailing Leonel by a hair’s breadth.

“The kid’s survived quite a while.” Double Shot spoke, his hands itching.

“She just likes playing with her food. Just enjoy the show, she’s getting more perky.” Shadow Rat responded.

As usual, Panda didn’t say a word, taking a snap shot of every wardrobe malfunction he could catch a glimpse of.

‘This is some good material. It’ll last me at least a week. This is good, really good…’

“It’s been about half a minute, don’t you think the miners should have heard something by now?” Shadow Rat asked.

“If they know what’s good for them, they’ll stay out of Manson’s way. I doubt she’ll go as easy on them as she’s going on this kid.”

“It might also be that they’re just used to it and know to mind their own business,” Shadow Rat replied, “I used to work the mines too. Everyone is trying to meet and surpass their quotas for an extra bit of cash. Stealing someone else’s deposits isn’t very rare, fights like this happen all the time.”

“Ah, I forgot you were a sewer rat before.”

“Go fuck yourself, you think it’s easy being here? I made more money doing this than you’ve seen in your lifetime.”

“Maybe if you had made less money, and had gotten more sun, you’d be less bald.”

“I hope your gun jams, son of a bitch.”

“I hope your wig glue dries like dandruff, baldy.”

BANG!

Leonel felt his hair whip about, the side of his uniform hammer pants gaining a large rip as Manson’s failed to land yet another ax kick.

Her heel shattered the ground, but immediately became an anchor point as she swung her other leg in a roundhouse.

Her kicks were as fluid as any sequence of punches. They were relentless and flexible, perfectly timed and powerful.

At that moment, Leonel grasped at the last piece, allowing it to vanish into his spatial ring. He rolled to the side, avoiding another disastrous heel and leaping up to his feet.

Despite the unmoved look in his eyes and the all pervading coldness that exuded from him, his actual appearance was quite terrible.

His clothing was ripped in many places, his skin was already dripping with sweat and the flying particles of stone that had hung in the air due to Manson’s violent barrage clung to him, making his look dirtied and battered.

Still, despite all of this, he still didn’t have a single injury on his body. Even as he breathed long and hard, his body moved freely.

‘This is about… 20% of her strength. The others still haven’t moved because they’re quite confident in her ability to end all of this. Should I take the opportunity to kill her? Or should I run?’

Leonel coldly analyzed Manson’s actions, dodging in a sorry state every time. He had already thought of three plans with a better than 80% likelihood of ending in her death, each one more bolted down and perfected than the last.

But, every time he hesitated about whether to proceed, Manson’s brow would twitch and her actions would shift. It was as though she subconsciously felt that something was about to happen and reacted accordingly.

The more drunk her mind became, the sharper her instincts were.

None of her actions actually countered Leonel’s intentions. However, the fact she reacted at all sent alarm bells off in Leonel’s mind. If she could adapt with nothing to go off of now, then the more information he gave her, the better her adaptation response would be, and the less chase he would have at succeeding.

If it wasn’t because he was infuriated, Leonel would find this ability of Manson’s to be fascinating. But, the fact she seemed to need to be inebriated to use it was a huge negative… Unless she could fight someone she wanted to kill as much as Leonel.

‘In that case…’

Leonel’s foot planted, his body attempting to slide by Manson’s kick.

It shot down from above, barely missing his chest by a centimeter. Yet, before it even had, in a feat of shocking flexibility, Manson’s back arched backward, planting her palms to the ground as she aimed her once planted leg for Leonel’s chin.

Usually, Leonel would dodge. But, a kick from Manson’s currently bridged body position was likely amongst the weakest in her arsenal. It was still enough to tear the head off a Fourth Dimensional existence nine out of ten times, but Leonel happened to be the one.

Bronze Runes flickered to life beneath the grime and sweat on Leonel’s skin, fingers from both his hands intertwining as he went to block Manson’s kick.

Shadow Rat, Double Shot and Panda’s eyes glowed. A blow was finally about to connect. It was a nice run but it seemed the kid was at the end of his rope.

However, what happened next shocked them. It wasn’t because of the result of the kick, but rather because of what happened before it even landed.

Manson shouted out, calling to her team members.

“Shoot now!”

Her words slurred, but the meaning was clear enough. She wanted them to interfere?

Despite his confusion, Double Shot reacted on instinct.

His gun flipped out of its holster with an unconscious speed, his palm sliding back across its barrel twice in quick succession as he shot from his hip.

The world slowed in his eyes. He could already see the bullets piercing Leonel whose hands were still prepared to block Manson’s kick. One through his throat, the other through his skull.

As slow as the world was for Double Shot, though, it was even slower for Leonel. But, this wasn’t the happy tale one would have thought it was.

‘… This shameless bitch…’ Was just the first of Leonel’s thoughts.