Chapter 180: The Villain's Struggle

Cursed Prison: Extra Custom. Packing firearms all over his body and charging a jet engine to unleash raw, overwhelming firepower practically strapping the output of five motorcycles together—an incredibly rough, high-output variant even stronger than his High-Mobility form. A rare sight that only appears at the very end of a prolonged battle.

"Well, seeing as he has terrible handling, it was bound to end up like this."

Despite being in that Extra Custom form, I had been mercilessly beaten into a completely pathetic state by the Meteor, who showed absolutely zero signs of fatigue.

I mean, I did try to fight back. I used the jet propulsion to turn my entire massive body into a lethal bullet and landed a tackle, and I even forcefully "received" a rocket launcher for free from a military NPC and blasted her with it... but near the end, I swear that little punk straight-up parried the rocket launcher warhead.

"Let's see... the HP ratio is about 2 to 5 right now..."

Looking strictly at the numbers, the ratio is almost identical to Round 3, but unfortunately, my damage output hasn't actually increased. The chances of a comeback are incredibly slim and thin.

"I managed to hide for now, but... it's only a matter of time before she finds me, and..."

My Gauge is already full. The same goes for her, and we had both been quietly waiting for the perfect opportunity to see who would pop their Super Art first... but the reality is she was slowly but surely chipping my health away the whole time.

"Should I just make a run for the Cube...? Nah, playing it safe now feels super lame."

"Nice. I don't dislike that kind of Fighting Spirit."

"That's the true Vorpal soul... wait."

Currently, I had intruded into one of the office buildings and was using a table in the 10th-floor cafe area as a makeshift chair to rest. Suddenly, a paper cup filled with freshly brewed coffee was handed to me from the side.

"Hey."

"Alright, eat this!"

"Did this guy really just throw hot coffee at me without a single second of hesitation?!"

"You reacted perfectly anyway!"

That scared the absolute shit out of me! Is this a horror movie?! How the hell did she pinpoint my exact location?! Terrifying! Absolutely terrifying!!

Setting that aside and changing the subject entirely, there are two types of people in this world. When a zombie suddenly appears right in front of them and attacks, there are people whose bodies freeze up, and people who move reflexively.

By the way, I'm the type to immediately blow its head off with a shotgun and follow up with a kick without a moment's hesitation. When you've spent your time acting as a street slasher in Bakumatsu, a knight in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, and a gunslinger on a deserted island, you eventually learn how to counterattack against ambushes almost completely automatically.

"Now then, I'll read you your last rites!"

"Sorry, but I have a well-established reputation for being an incredibly sore loser!"

Of course, this excludes optimizing routes via death-warping or skipping events—in fact, once you start actively seeking death, that's when the real grinding begins. They say a first-rate grinder can manually guide incoming bullets straight into their own forehead.

Obviously, I haven't reached quite those heights yet; the best I can do is roughly predict the trajectory based on the muzzle flash and voluntarily throw my vital spots into the line of fire.

The splashed coffee—the pitch-black liquid liberated from the large paper cup meant to contain it—danced through the air...

"Reactive Prison Break!!"

It's not exactly a new Super Art. It simply means that even if there's no actual damage, hitboxes still exist. And just by virtue of having a hitbox, scattering scrap metal holds the exact same value as firing a rocket launcher.

Like Reactive Armor, the Extra Custom armor detonates and blasts outward. Toward Metius—who had instinctively backstepped to avoid the scalding coffee—the blown-off fighter jet plating tears through the dark curtain of liquid to launch a surprise attack.

"Whoops! You've got quite the bad habit of... eek?!"

"My habits are incredibly violent, you see. Sometimes I just reflexively do things like this...!"

I plunge my hand straight through the curtain of coffee and grab Metius right by the face on the other side. Depending on the situation, I'm perfectly willing to cross rivers of magma or poison swamps while tanking the damage; compared to that, shoving my hand through hot coffee is a joke!

For starters, since it's a game, it's not actually burning hot! Don't be fooled by the realistic graphics! In this world, you won't die even if you play Russian Roulette six times with a fully loaded six-shooter!

"I'll give a little lecture to the Champion who's probably going to be maining this game from now on."

"J-Japanese Newaza?!"

I'm pretty sure this is closer to pro wrestling, but whatever.

"I don't know if this is a feature or a bug... but right here, right now, I'm going to violently abuse it!"

My left arm firmly clutches the Hero's neck, my right arm locks around her thigh. Gripping her with an iron hold I refuse to release, I channel all my strength into a kick that shatters the window.

"In this game, fall damage is set to 0. So technically, we could dive from the stratosphere without a parachute and walk away completely unscathed, but..."

But, that leaves a question. Because if fall damage is 0, wouldn't it make sense for throw damage to also become 0?

Assuming damage is generated when there's direct interference from a playable character, there's still something that caught my attention.

And so, having completed my debugging at the cost of over a dozen NPCs and Katzo's Armed Lava's lower back, I prepared one final trump card right here.

The window glass shatters, and Prison Breaker and Metius leap out into the air from the 10th floor.

"Under normal circumstances, fall damage is 0! But when I bungee-jumped off a building without a cord and landed on a car, it caused a massive explosion! And the NPC I dragged down with me took massive damage!"

The truth derived from those facts is simple: "Even if the damage is 0, the physics engine itself is still calculating the impact."

"So, what happens if I do this?! Execute a Pro Wrestling Move from an Extreme Altitude!!"

"Wait, hold on, no way!"

Did having half your health left make you careless? It's too late to try and escape now! Prison Breaker's specs exceed Metius's in every single category, and he's not a fragile character who would die from you flailing around like that!!

"Pseudo-Super Art!"

I step on the empty air twice to gain more altitude and correct my posture. Now then, let me give you a taste of what it feels like to be eye drops falling from the second floor.

The physics calculations are functioning properly. Simply falling doesn't generate damage. But even if there is no damage, the energy generated by the fall undeniably exists.

Eat this! A massive damage attack unleashed without consuming a single drop of Gauge!!

"Impact Convert!!"

Gravity violently entwines the crimson and the blue. Because we are humans without wings, it is an inescapable providence—a colorless arm dragging Metius straight down into hell.

With Metius locked firmly in my clutch, my body plummets toward the ground at terrifying speed. The two humans who had thrown themselves from well over a dozen meters high are instantly banished from the sky, and the earth ruthlessly catches the two idiots with a completely unyielding welcome.

Impact.

The earth shatters. Centered entirely on the two soles of my feet that landed on a single point, a spiderweb of cracks violently erupts across the asphalt. A numbness—like the sensation of my entire body vanishing—travels from my heels to my knees, from my knees to my waist, propagating straight up my spine before blasting a terrifying shockwave directly through the center of Metius's body.

"........."

"........."

A landing recovery animation completely binds my entire body. A stagger recovery animation completely binds Metius's entire body. The one who recovered first was... Metius.

Her remaining health was at 10%. My ultimate mid-air assassination technique had ultimately fallen just one step short of dropping the Meteor.

"...For this move to shave off 50%, you need to jump from at least the 12th floor of a building."

I honestly didn't think I'd actually pull it off at the last second, and I certainly didn't think I could successfully land it on Sylvia Goldberg of all people. If only I had hidden on the 12th floor... If only I had climbed just two more floors...!!

"Any last words?"

If I had to describe it, it feels like having my neck set on a guillotine, or standing on the edge of a cliff with a hand gently resting on my back.

I see. Then what I should say here is...

"Hmm... Ah, right... let's see, if I had to say something........."

".........?"

Hey, hey. I'm making it this obvious, and you still haven't noticed? I guess it can't be helped. Allow me to reveal the trick.

"Exactly five seconds ago marked 'thirty seconds'."

"!!"

The Hero's eyes snap wide open. Looking up, mixed in with the glittering rain of shattered glass, a shower of pitch-black metal fragments was plummeting down at terrifying speeds.

"I won't die for free! If you don't know where we are, I'll tell you... Right here is!!"

The armor dresses me. The star of ruin that once ravaged the world is once again sealed within the cursed prison, but because the entity itself transitioned, the armor demon is freed from its recovery frames.

With every ounce of strength I possess, I shatter a transport vehicle that, at first glance, looks like nothing more than an ice cream truck.

I called Impact Convert a trump card, so I guess this should be called my secret stash! The initial equipment I left behind without ever using it—my final, desperate struggle!

"This is my 'Starting Location'!!"

"......You!!"

"Ah, right. My last words."

A Gatling gun. A shotgun. A modified truck engine.

A leap. A somersault. A flying kick.

The black armor clad in scrap metal pulls the triggers. The meteor clad in light traces blue across the sky.

The meteor falling to the earth scatters the rain of lead rising to the heavens, and light and impact violently overflow from inside me.

"I'D RATHER HAVE YAKINIKU THAN SUSHIIIIIIIIII!!!"

"Seriously, why?!"

Massive explosion.

Well, you know... I ultimately managed to successfully set up the Katzo vs. Sylvia match, so... all's well that ends well?

Author's Afterword
This is weird... I was totally planning to just write a 1,000-word digest and have him lose quickly. Why the hell is this guy inventing debugging techniques mid-fight...?