Kyora looked up at the towering, ominous clock that loomed above them, its intimidating presence casting a shadow over the group.
"I thought we were supposed to head to the main casino," she murmured, glancing at Aurora. "Did we misread the invitation?"
Yumiko, trailing behind them, appeared slower than usual, exhaustion evident in her every step. The fatigue from their ordeal at Bloomsque seemed to have worsened as the journey went on.
Aurora's sharp gaze caught the subtle signs, noticing the way Yumiko stumbled a little and tried to cover it up. Her voice softened with concern as she stepped closer.
"Yumiko, something's wrong. I can see it. You've been hiding it, but we can't ignore this. Should we head back and get you checked out by a doctor?"
Yumiko attempted to brush it off with a forced smile, raising her hand to wave away the concern. "I'm fine, Aurora. It's nothing serious."
But Aurora wasn't convinced. Her eyes softened, but the concern in her voice was unmistakable as she took a step closer. "No, Yumiko. You're not fine. I can see it. You've been pushing yourself ever since Bloomsque, and it's only getting worse. If we don't take care of this now, it could be serious. We can't afford to have you fall behind."
Yumiko faltered for a moment, her determination cracking as she glanced at Kyora, who shot her a knowing look. The silence spoke volumes, and Yumiko sighed, giving in.
"Alright, alright," she muttered, her shoulders slumping. "I admit it, I'm not feeling my best. But... just a little further, please? We're so close to the objective, and I don't want to slow everyone down."
Kyora, standing with her palms pressed against her hips, remained silent as she observed Yumiko's state, her eyes scanning for any sign of what might be wrong. But nothing seemed clear.
"Aurora," she said, breaking the silence, "I'll check out the tower. You should take Yumiko back. She's in no condition to be moving around like this."
To her surprise, Yumiko stepped forward, irritation flashing across her face. "Don't be ridiculous, Kyora!" she snapped. "We have no idea what kind of danger this place holds! And we both know you're not cut out for exploring dangerous places on your own. At least with me here, you two stand a chance if things go south!"
Kyora's gaze hardened, and without a word, she shoved Yumiko back gently but firmly. "Huh? You just called me weak?" She crossed her arms, sighing dramatically. "Whatever. You're going back with Aurora. She'll take care of you, and I'll handle what's inside the tower. You're not fit for a fight in your condition anyway."
Yumiko glared, her frustration growing, but after a moment of quiet contemplation, her shoulders slumped. She exhaled a long sigh, defeated.
"Fine," she muttered reluctantly. "I get it. But you better be careful, Kyora."
Without another word, Yumiko turned to Aurora, her face softened by the recognition of her own limits. "Let's go," she said softly, but her tone remained stubborn. "Just... don't take too long."
Kyora watched them both for a moment before turning to face the imposing tower ahead. "I won't. You two head back safely."
With the cut in his hip still fresh, Nathaniel surged forward, his body vanishing in a blur before Yipsiv could even react. His speed was unmatched, the afterimages of his form trailing behind him like fading ghosts, each one throwing off Yipsiv's aim as he tried to track his movements.
Yipsiv's eyes darted around, trying to pin down the real Nathaniel, but it was like trying to catch the wind. The sound of gunfire echoed through the factory-like space, as Nathaniel's bullets tore through the air, but all of them missed their mark.
Then, from a split second of stillness, Nathaniel materialized right in front of Yipsiv, his hand outstretched and his gun aimed directly at his rival. Before Yipsiv could even blink, Nathaniel fired.
In that brief, crucial moment, Yipsiv twisted his body, his cutlass flashing as it slashed through the air with deadly precision, deflecting the bullet just inches from his face. But as he did, Nathaniel's bullet exploded in midair, sending a shockwave that blasted him backward, his feet skidding across the floor.
Yipsiv gritted his teeth, his muscles aching from the force of the blast, but he quickly recovered. Gritting his teeth and glaring at Nathaniel, he swung his revolver into position, eyes locked on the gunslinger. "Well, ain't this a fine little birthday treat."
Nathaniel didn't reply. Instead, his figure flickered once more, and he rushed at Yipsiv again, his body now just a blur of motion. The dance of gunfire and blades had only just begun.
Yipsiv, still grinning through the chaos, gritted his teeth and dashed forward with sudden speed. He lowered his shoulder, bulling straight into Nathaniel's chest. The impact knocked the air out of Nathaniel, sending him stumbling backward, crashing into a stack of metal crates with a resounding clang. Yipsiv didn't give him a second to breathe.
He spun around, his cutlass slicing the air as he lunged in for a follow-up strike. The blade flashed, aiming to catch Nathaniel off guard as he recovered.
Nathaniel, his body already aching from the earlier blows, gritted his teeth and narrowly dodged the slash, the blade grazing his side, leaving a sting of pain. He pivoted, pushing off the crates just in time to narrowly avoid another swing.
"You're gonna have to do better than that, partner," Nathaniel growled, his voice a mix of pain and defiance as he flicked the blood from his hand.
But Yipsiv wasn't done. He grinned wider, pushing forward, forcing Nathaniel into a corner where there was no escape. The cowboy's revolver flashed into his hand, ready to fire.
"Let's see if ya can dodge a bullet at this range, Nate," Yipsiv sneered, finger tightening on the trigger.
Nathaniel's reflexes kicked in without hesitation. He wasn't about to let Yipsiv land a shot at such close range. With precise speed, he dove behind a stack of metal crates, narrowly avoiding the bullet that tore through the air where he had been standing just moments before. The sound of the shot reverberated through the factory-like space, ricocheting off the steel walls and amplifying the tension.
"Not today, Yipsiv," Nathaniel muttered, his back pressed against the cold metal. His eyes swept the room, searching for an opportunity to strike.
Yipsiv's footsteps grew louder, his confidence apparent as he circled Nathaniel's position. "What's the matter, Nate? Hiding now?" Yipsiv drawled, his voice laced with mockery, the amusement unmistakable in his tone.
Nathaniel, ever calculated, kept his hand on his pistol, waiting for the perfect moment. As Yipsiv closed in, Nathaniel made his move. He vaulted from behind the crates, rolling smoothly across the ground to take cover behind another piece of machinery. Bullets whizzed past him, one narrowly missing his shoulder.
He moved with precision, a shadow through the facility—dodging between pillars, crates, and gears. His heart raced, but his mind remained calm, focused on the fight ahead. Yipsiv was closing in, but Nathaniel wasn't about to make it easy.
A bullet from Yipsiv's revolver ricocheted off a massive spinning gear, its sharp whine filling the air. Nathaniel dove once more, narrowly missing it, landing in a controlled roll behind another cover. His eyes scanned for his next move, calculating every angle.
"Come on, Nate! You can't hide forever!" Yipsiv called out, his voice dripping with frustration beneath the amusement.
Now, from a higher vantage point, Nathaniel steadied his breath, taking aim. He waited until Yipsiv's figure emerged from the shadows, aligning the shot with expert precision. In a single, fluid motion, Nathaniel fired. The bullet cut through the air, aimed directly for Yipsiv's chest.
Yipsiv, ever vigilant, anticipated the shot. In a swift, fluid movement, he spun to the side, his cutlass flashing through the air to intercept the bullet. The moment of contact erupted in a shower of sparks, and the force of the explosion sent Yipsiv sliding backward, his grin returning despite the force.
"You'll have to do better than that, partner," he drawled, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, his confidence unshaken.
Yipsiv's grin stretched across his face as he saw the momentary hesitation in Nathaniel's eyes. Without a second thought, he disappeared in an instant, blending into the shadows of the factory-like space. A heavy, unnatural silence descended, filling the vast room with an eerie stillness. The only sound was the echo of their breaths, but even that seemed muted, as if the world held its breath.
Nathaniel stood still for just a moment, his senses on high alert. The faintest of shifts in the air told him everything he needed to know. He wasn't going to have the luxury of waiting for Yipsiv to make the first move. No, this was a fight where survival meant never standing still, never letting the enemy get the upper hand.
Then, without warning, a blur of motion—a flash of steel. Yipsiv materialized out of nowhere, his cutlass flashing in the dim light as it sliced through the air with deadly intent. Nathaniel instinctively jerked to the side, feeling the cold sting of the blade as it skimmed across his ribs. A deep gash opened up, but he didn't let out a sound. No time for that. Another slash came—this time, Yipsiv's blade carving into his arm before he could duck away.
The force of Yipsiv's assault was relentless. Slash after slash, faster than Nathaniel could track. The air crackled with tension, each cut seeming to close in on him from every angle. In the blink of an eye, Yipsiv was behind him again, his blade poised to strike. Nathaniel couldn't afford to stay in one place for even a moment. He was stuck in the middle of a storm of steel.
But Nathaniel wasn't the type to be caught in a corner. His chest heaved with each breath, the pain in his side a reminder of just how high the stakes were. He needed a way out. A plan. A new move.
Without a word, his hand dove into his coat pocket, fingers wrapping around the cold steel of his hidden second pistol. With a single, smooth motion, he pulled it from its hiding place. The weight of it was familiar—comforting in the chaos of the fight. His lips curled into a faint smirk. Yipsiv may have been fast, but Nathaniel had more than one trick up his sleeve.
He didn't hesitate. With a fluid spin of his body, he leapt into motion, pistols at the ready. His movements were calculated, deliberate, but with a grace that came from years of honed instinct. The sound of his boots hitting the ground was drowned out by the rapid-fire explosions of his twin pistols, each round tearing through the air with deadly accuracy.
Bullets flew in every direction—straight ahead, to his sides, ricocheting off the walls, the towering crates, and massive spinning gears scattered throughout the room. Each bullet seemed to be a precision strike, aimed at the most vulnerable spots. But Nathaniel didn't stop to admire his work. He was already spinning again, another burst of gunfire, his pistols twirling in the air as if they were part of his own body.
The air around him shimmered as the barrage of bullets rained down like a storm. The factory seemed to pulse with the rhythm of Nathaniel's movement, the echo of the gunfire reverberating off the steel walls, the whistling of bullets leaving trails in the air, each one finding its target in the darkened corners of the space. Nathaniel was everywhere, in every corner, his body a blur of motion, his gunfire never slowing, never wavering.
Yipsiv's form, once elusive and invisible, began to flicker in the chaos. At first, it was just a flash—then another. His attempt to remain hidden in the storm of bullets was futile. Nathaniel's shots seemed to tear through the very air, closing in on Yipsiv's position like a trap tightening around him. Every time Yipsiv moved to the shadows, a bullet would follow, ricocheting off a wall or a beam and coming back to haunt him.
Then, with a final burst of effort, Nathaniel spun in a full circle, his pistols spinning along with him, releasing an overwhelming flurry of shots in every direction. The entire room seemed to come alive with the sound of gunfire as the bullets danced through the air, hitting every surface, ricocheting off machinery and beams, and turning the factory into a deadly whirlwind of metal and lead.
Yipsiv's last attempt to stay hidden faltered as the storm of bullets closed in around him, each one grazing his coat, his skin, until one final shot caught him square in the chest. The force of the bullet knocked him back, and he reappeared in full view, his form solidifying in the wake of the blast. Blood trickled from his chest as he staggered, his grin faltering for a split second before it returned, albeit with a hint of hesitation.
Nathaniel, breathing hard, lowered his pistols. His eyes locked onto Yipsiv, who was now standing in the open, his usual swagger somewhat shaken by the onslaught. Nathaniel couldn't help but let out a breath of satisfaction.
"Guess you're not as slick as you think." Nathaniel said calmly his voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He flicked the barrels of his guns with a casual but deliberate motion. "Sometimes the storm's just too strong to hide in."
Yipsiv wiped the blood from his lips, his grin returning, though it now had a sharper edge to it. He couldn't hide the respect in his eyes, but the fire of competition was still alive in them. This fight wasn't over. Not yet.
To be continued...