Chapter 1468 (1/2)

The roars of the crowd were thunderous as the third-place match of the duos tournament reached its climax. The noise was heavy with expectation and approval; it only now wandered about the area as it sought its ultimate target, the victor.

Once more the entire arena was replaced by a vast reflective pool. The duo of Dinesh and Tykes stood opposite one another, split by the inverting dividing line by their feat. Hank held the reigns of his spectral horse and raised his revolver into the sky, his eyes blazing with determination. Shadow Ancho pranced sideways, clearly unnerved by the oppressive image that Tykes released.

As the upper of the reflections, Tykes allowed his image to press down over the surrounding area with a brutal cruelty. Before that immense sense of weight that he carried on his shoulders, all images shuddered and shrunk. Against it, the slow rise of Hank’s environmental image had been struggling to gain traction. But it was obvious that soon, that image would finally break free.

But the fighters just regarded each other with a scientific intensity. Dinesh’s image had warped the surroundings, but Hank had been steadily dodging Tykes’ attacks for the past several minutes and firing targeted repeater shots. Only after struggling for some time, Randidly could sense that Hank’s image had started to achieve some tangible influence over the area.

Randidly rubbed his chin. The one problem with Hank’s image was that, once he achieved that influence, his hand was then forced toward action; he no longer had the excuse to delay. His image wouldn’t allow it. In the West, you eventually had to stand up for what you believed in or the narrative around you would collapse to dust. Whether it was because of the expression on Hank’s face or the shifting images in the air, the crowd seemed to sense this change. They stomped their feet and waved their hands, calling for conflict.

The volume increased.

Ancho reared, answering their cheers, even though Randidly suspected that the combatants weren’t able to make out the noise through the screening of Dinesh’s image. But perhaps the image horse could sense the audience’s will anyway. Tykes held his immense iron ball in front of him with both hands, his fingers straining with barely suppressed eagerness.

When ghost Ancho’s hooves hit the ground, Tykes accelerated forward. His body blurred at the edge, a blurred reflection of Dinesh following along with him like a ghastly spirit seeking to possess a living body. Hank pressed his heels into the horse’s flanks and they vanished, only to reappear a few meters to Tykes’s left.

Tykes planted his foot and adjusted his vector with a sharpness that seemed to defy physics. The iron ball swung upward. Hank lowered the barrel of his revolver and took aim.

Bang!

Bullet and iron ball smashed against each other. The bullet screeched and screamed with unwillingness, surrounding by a nova of vicious certainty that the bullet would pierce through Tykes weapon. But in this case, it wasn’t enough. It dug its way into the pounded metal and forced open a hairline fracture, but that was it. Everything else was suppressed by the weight. Tykes continued forward, smashing the ball at Hank and Ancho, but they leaped away before they were caught.

The large metal ball struck the ground and produced countless ripples that radiated outward in Dinesh’s mirrored realm. With gritted teeth, Tykes hooked the chain around the ball and then began to spin, gradually unspooling the chain. The iron ball whipped around Tykes in steadily growing arcs, covering a larger portion of the Arena.

He planted his feet and spun in place, gradually accelerating.

Ghost Ancho whinnied and trotted away, warily watching the aggressor. Snorting, Tykes abruptly twisted the chain and then yanked the ball back toward himself. As the metal projectile was shooting back toward him, Tykes became Dinesh. Dinesh closed his eyes and suddenly Dinesh was a stunned Hank on top of the image Ancho.

“Well, shit,” Hank swore as he looked at the projectile careening toward him.

The ball smashed into Ancho before the image could carry Hank away, getting blasted into bits of spectral matter. Hank rolled out of the way of danger, but then Dinesh was there, his fingers fanning outward with poisoned knives.

Hank’s repeater flashed up and bucked several times in quick succession as he deflected the knives away with bullets. The knives then clattered harmlessly against the ground in a shower of poisonous sparks. But before Hank could take aim for a more damaging shot, Dinesh covered the distance and unleashed a brutal high kick. Hank leaned backward and holstered his pistol; he wasn’t going to shy away from a brawl. The influence of Hank’s image in the area steadily grew.

He had fired his first bullet, experienced a counterattack, and survived. The momentum began to flow steadily toward him.

Dinesh spun and cut sideways at Hank’s waist with his palm. Hank accepted the strike with a grunt and unleashed a vicious left hook in response, but his fist ineffectually glanced off of Tykes’ shoulder as the larger man replaced the smaller.

Hank reacted quickly to the change. He jerked sideways and brought his elbow up to smash against Tykes' face. Tykes grinned and leaned forward into the blow, using his image to steady himself through the strike and try and grapple Hank. Snorting, Hank Dodge Rolled backward and then kicked Tykes in the chest when he went to follow.

Tykes immediately planted his foot and skidded to a halt, but that opening was enough for Hank Howard to draw his revolver. The barrel gleamed with a white light in the mirrored world.

Bang!

The bullet whizzed harmlessly past the ribs of the smaller Dinesh, ruffling his hair. Hank’s eyes narrowed. Then Tykes was back, yanking on the chain and bringing the iron slamming back into his hand.

The cylinder of Hank’s revolver clicked to bring a new bullet before the hammer. Both men grinned at each other. Then Tykes exploded forward and Hank took aim. At the last second, Hank Dodge Rolled to the side and adjusted his angle.

Bang!