Nach was breathing heavily, her shoulders going up and down and her chest expanding at a high pace.
She was holding her machete so tightly that her fingers were numb.
She knew that her body was covered in small and superficial wounds, but neither of them could inflict discomfort, because of the huge amount of adrenaline she had.
Her eyes were glazed, without blinking a single time. The smallest mistake could lead to a painful and certain death. So she kept staring intently at her enemy, not losing even the most ordinary detail.
Sionnach was a Ridire, she had the mindset of a warrior. Her focus was at its peak, maybe even beyond the maximum potential.
"I am at full power, I am aware of it. I need to use this strength to fight equally with him. But my opponent is getting sharper after each exchange of blows."
Sionnach was concerned about the craziness of that man as well. In that state, he had something that Nach's instincts could not have at all: extreme savagery and boldness, to the point of looking like a ferocious beast.
Their fight was so fierce, that the two of them could only get small cuts on each other.
Nach somehow could deal with the device he had in his arm, however it was two times more exhaustive to her to do so. The little metal pieces were quick and nearly invisible. She had to use her hearing senses to know when he shot them. It was a sneaky weapon, and sometimes he would pretend to be shooting on her, just to make her change positions and be trapped.
After Casper had to get away from the battle, just about 8 minutes had passed, although it felt like 8 hours for Nach.
Murtair suddenly raised his left arm and a bunch of sharp projectiles flew towards her.
Nach swung her machete, trying to defend them while running at full speed.
He kept shooting nonstop. She was facing a rain of those tiny and deadly projectiles.
Sionnach used all the strength in her legs, sprinting like a lightning. However, the cut on her thigh started to open widely to the point that her leg faltered and she nearly fell to the ground.
Nach needed to kneel on one knee, such was the pain on her thigh. Yet, the sharp metal pieces did not stop.
With compact and fast movements, she cut the air countless times, blocking the projectiles while swaying her body to avoid the rest.
In the end, her body had new more superficial cuts, and some that would probably turn more debilitating over time.
Nach rolled behind a near vehicle, frowned hard, and bore the pain in her leg, standing up.
"I need to deal good damage here… and fast. As I am seeing, he is less worn out than me. His resistance is incredible. If this battle keeps going further, I will lose, and he is aware of it."
The two of them were being separated by a random abandoned vehicle on the street and circling it slowly in clockwise. Neither was looking in another's eyes; they were staring at the legs and arms, taking notes of the movements carefully.
The tension was rising after each step, the air seemed heavier than ever before. Both of them were filled with expectations and anxiety.
Sionnach could see that his left shoulder made a quick and subtly motion. After eight minutes of intense battle, she knew exactly what that meant!
The Ridire made a split-second decision, crouching as fast as she could, and covering herself behind the vehicle. Tiny and sharp projectiles drawn a straight line right above her head, about five of them. Sharp noises could be heard as they cut the air.
"These projectiles have enough power to slash the skin, and go through the flash, being capable of cutting arteries and organs. But, they are useless when don't aim to the right places. This means that if he did not aim to a vital point…"
She felt the huge vehicle sway abruptly. Heavy and large steps could be heard at a speed that did not seem normal for a human.
She stood up, exercising a lot of strength on her legs as if they were springs. At the same time, she made a powerful swing with her machete, just in time to parry a descendant stroke of his short sword.
The parry was so well made, that not just the sword flew sideway, but the wrist of the attacker got twisted as well.
He cried in pain, which seemed more like a roar, and Nach attacked again in the opposite direction from before, spinning her trunk and waist with all her might. The rotation power of the swing made the machete fly at an unbelievable speed.
The blade was making its way towards the Frelsi's neck but got stopped when he put his arm in front of it, blocking.
In the blink of an eye, his left forearm got ripped off and flew for about four meters before fall rolling on the floor.
Without faltering for a millisecond, Sionnach made a perfect motion with her machete, switching it to her left hand and piercing straightforward, aiming to Murtair's heart.
Sionnach once more had the certainty of her victory. No one could bear such pain as having a limb cut off. First of all, the shock would make him paralyzed, then the pain would numb his senses; finally, the survival rate in an infight to someone who lost a limb was really low.
With this in mind, Nach rushed forward, determined to impale the heart of that murder.
"DIE!!" She screamed, with her machete about to touch his chest.
Everything turned slow-motion to the Ridire. Always when she was about to kill someone, it was like that. The world would seem to be nearly frozen.
For Nach, it was a painful sight. She did not like to think too much about killing someone. She did not like to look at the person for such a long and torturous time and be aware that, enemy or not, a life was still a life. Everyone had just one chance. And she would be who would steal this chance from their hands.
That day, though, she could not be more glad that it happened again. If not, she could not stare at his eyes and realize that there was no pain, no shock, just malice.
She lost her balance and fell to the right, avoiding by a hair a thrust with the short sword aimed to her belly.
"What on earth is wrong with this guy!?" She complained while jumping to the side to avoid falling on the ground.
"How can he keep this fast response to danger when he has such a fatal blow!? How can he be so focused? Is it because he is crazy or something?"
Murtair looked coldly to his stump, which was bleeding hard. Not a single trace of pain showed in his eyes.
"No, he is not just crazy. It's not psychological resilience either. He can't feel any pain at all. He is doped." She frowned hard, looking at that man. "All the screams of pain and anger were just a very good act to hide this fact. And that's why he is not getting tired at all."
It was easy to come to this conclusion for her. Even amongst the Ridire, there were a lot of people who would doping themselves before going to battle. And she had dealt with such opponents before. They were called Berserkers.
"I lost my forearm for now, Ridire…" He looked at the woman with thirsty and crazy eyes, a despicable grin appearing on his face. "But, this is an unfair trade for you… I will have a lost limb, but you will see all you believe and dedicated your life to protect burning in front of your eyes! And everything will start when we met the Princess…"
That sight came to Sionnach's mind, and her eyes watered. She knew that she had the whole district weight on her shoulders. She knew that, whether what he said will become reality or not, was up to her own decisions and success.
"Don't let him corrupt your mind. Show to him who will burn here!"
Sionnach knew that attack and retreat would be suicide. Now that she was aware of the doping, she would not let him take advantage of a battle of stamina.
"These types of enemies can bear an intense battle and overwhelm pain 2 or 3 times more than usual. But their bodies still feel the impact of the blows! They will never run out of gas, however there will be a time when their bodies will collapse after innumerable several injuries!
"I can't run away right now. I can't keep going through this cycle of unsuccessful strategies!"
Nach breathed deeply and held her breath. After, she kicked the ground, rushing towards Murtair, preparing her machete.
The murderer's smile got twice as wide as before, and he rushed towards her as well.
Both planted their feet on the ground, maintaining a solid base. They were showing that, no matter how strong it was the blow, they will not retreat, nor move one centimeter from where they were. The only direction was ahead!
A bloody and deadly fight was about to start. Who ran out of energy first would meet a certain death and the fate of District 42 would be decided.