Mutual Destruction

Formaggio was about to catch up with his prey.

He might be just two steps away, or even one step away, from crushing Mista, who was fleeing in a sorry state, into a bloody pulp.

But then, for some reason, Mista suddenly seemed to have a burst of energy before death, and his jumping speed while holding onto the wall suddenly increased significantly.

"What?"

Formaggio frowned deeply.

Mista's overly tenacious vitality involuntarily reminded him of cockroaches.

Many times you feel like you've almost crushed a cockroach, but these indestructible creatures somehow manage to drag their broken limbs and bodies far away.

This feeling is indeed very uncomfortable.

"They still have the strength to accelerate?"

"Was he holding back his energy, or did something trigger his outburst?"

Following the direction Mista had fled, Formaggio stared intently.

Soon, he saw Mista's destination:

"The drain outlet? I see."

Formaggio saw through his opponent's intentions at a glance:

"Those drainage pipes are too narrow; you simply can't squeeze in unless you make them smaller."

"Mista's small stature was actually an advantage there; he could easily escape to another place safely using the drainage pipe."

"If I shrink down and crawl into the pipe to chase him, I will lose that advantage in size and strength in front of him."

"However... hehe."

"You don't seem to understand at all, Mista."

As if struck by a sudden thought, a cold smile crept onto Formaggio's lips.

He didn't even quicken his pace to catch up; he simply followed Mista at a leisurely pace.

Mista, on the other hand, leaped forward with all his might, completely ignoring the blood flowing from his body.

He quickly and laboriously jumped to the drain.

Mista began frantically climbing upwards and soon squeezed into the narrow drainpipe.

However, I don't know what came to mind.

Mista did not drill deeper into the pipe as Formaggio had imagined; instead, he stopped at the pipe opening.

He suddenly turned around, then bent down and lay prone on the edge of the pipe, looking like a front-line soldier lying down in a trench, ready for battle.

"You're not going to run away?"

Formaggio asked, somewhat surprised.

Would running away be of any use?

"Your ability has an influence range of at least several tens of meters, right?"

"My body is so small and broken now, there's no way I could escape that far."

Mista sighed softly, but there was no trace of despair in her tone:

"Besides, do you think I came here just to run away?"

"I'm here solely for the pipeline itself—"

"This pipe is made of iron, and the edge of this pipe... phew... a 'giant' like you shouldn't be able to see it at all, right?"

"There is a small metal protrusion right at the opening of this pipe."

As he spoke, he lay down at the pipe opening and suddenly reached into his pocket and rummaged around for a while, quickly pulling out a small, bright yellow, golden object.

These are the bullets for the pistol he always carries.

But Formaggio could only vaguely see Mista's movements, but couldn't make out what he was taking out.

There's nothing we can do; Mista has shrunk too much.

At this moment, the bullets in his hand and the Sex Pistols he had replaced had shrunk proportionally to tiny grains of sand that were indistinguishable to the naked eye.

In such dim lighting, Formaggio could not see anything at all.

But Mista, fearing his opponent wouldn't know how he died, deliberately held up the tiny bullet in his hand and explained it to Formaggio in detail:

"Don't you understand yet?"

"A bullet doesn't necessarily have to be loaded into a pistol to fire; its primer can be detonated by the firing pin."

"And now, the protruding sheet metal at the pipe opening can serve as a 'firing pin' to ignite the primer!"

"Detonate the primer?"

Formaggio was slightly taken aback:

What's the point of just igniting the primer?

Without the ballistic stability and gas-tight acceleration provided by a pistol barrel, what kind of power can a bullet have when detonated out of thin air?

Isn't this just setting off a firecracker?

Aside from hearing a sound and seeing a spark, it's nothing at all.

"Wait... fire? Could it be..."

A very ominous thought suddenly popped into Formaggio's mind.

Mista seemed to have caught this shift in emotion, and he immediately pressed his advantage, saying:

"You should be able to smell it, right?"

"The sewers smell strongly of marsh gas!"

"The further you walk from the manhole cover's vent, the stronger the smell becomes!"

"Now... haha, all I have to do is detonate this bullet and ignite a spark."

Mista gripped the bullet tightly in his hand and shouted loudly:

"You and I will both die in this fire!"

"What?!"

Formaggio's expression changed slightly:

It turns out that Mista's goal wasn't to escape at all, but to take him down with her!

This is the main sewer that collects a large amount of domestic sewage. The stench inside is overwhelming and suffocating, and the smell of marsh gas is indeed very strong.

Of course, it's hard to say whether the methane gas concentration is high enough to trigger an explosion, based solely on the smell.

But if the methane gas here really reaches a concentration that can be ignited, and Mista adds fuel to the fire, then Formaggio was originally poised to completely defeat his opponent, could really suffer an unexpected defeat.

"That's a really dangerous tactic."

"The fact that you were able to find an opportunity under these circumstances shows that I underestimated you."

Formaggio was deeply impressed by Mista's wit and decisiveness.

But his tone showed no sign of panic.

"What a pity, Mista."

"You only want to find an opportunity to die together with me in a desperate situation, but you've forgotten... no, you haven't understood at all."

"My Stand ability!"

Formaggio stared intently at Mista.

At that moment, Mista lay prone at the pipe opening, one hand raised high with a bullet, slamming it down heavily onto the metal pipe below.

Once the hammer falls, Formaggio's life will be in God's hands.

But Formaggio had no intention of giving Mista this opportunity:

"It takes me a long time to shrink objects, but only a moment to restore them to their original size!"

"This applies not only to me personally, but also to you!"

"And now, look... Mista, where have you gone?"

"Can such a narrow pipe opening accommodate your enormous body after it grows larger?"

"Drainage pipes are the kind of places that can easily become 'full'!"

Formaggio's voice echoed in the darkness like a demon's whisper.

Then, just before Mista detonated the bullet, he silently recited a phrase in his mind:

"Little Feet!"

"Restore him to his original state!"

At this very moment

Like popcorn being fried, Mista's body suddenly swelled and grew larger.

He went from being a dwarf less than 30 centimeters tall to a towering 1.79 meters tall in an instant.

This would normally be considered a good thing, but if it happened now, inside this narrow drainage pipe, it would be a complete horror movie.

Mista's upper body is fine:

His upper body was already sticking out of the pipe, and now that it had grown larger, it fell onto the narrow concrete path of the sewer.

But his lower body was completely inside the pipe.

After that instantaneous expansion, his lower body was squeezed together by the narrow drainage pipe, forming a red cylinder less than twenty centimeters in diameter.

The front of the drainpipe was completely filled with rotten, gooey flesh and blood.

The power of this blow was no less than that of being cut in half at the waist, and in terms of its strangeness and terror, it far surpassed the punishments invented by ordinary people.

"Ah--"

Mista's painful groans echoed through the sewers.

"He's still alive?"

Formaggio's expression showed a hint of shock:

"You're still alive even though you only have half a body left? Are you some kind of monster?"

"Ha ha."

Mista managed a weak laugh.

He not only survived, but was also fully conscious:

"It's a little embarrassing to say, but..."

"I am indeed very confident when it comes to taking a beating."

"Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to use this self-destructive tactic."

"Tactics?"

Formaggio's expression changed slightly:

Given how things have become, how can Mista still be in the mood to talk about tactics?

No, it's not just that.

How come this guy didn't show any shock at all when he suddenly suffered that level of injury?

Could it be...?

"I did it on purpose."

Mista clenched her teeth tightly:

"I know you can make objects grow instantly, like that ballpoint pen that suddenly appeared in my pocket before."

"But I still squeezed into this narrow pipe. After all..."

Even with only half his body remaining, he still stared intently at Formaggio:

"If I don't crawl into this pipe, you'll never make me grow bigger, right?"

"Wh-what?"

Formaggio shuddered:

"You just want me to make you bigger?"

"Before that, there was the so-called 'detonating methane' tactic."

"That's just a little trick to force you to make a decision quickly."

Mista replied coldly:

"When you see someone about to hold up a bomb and 'take them down with you,' no one will have time to think too much."

"If there's a way to stop the enemy and survive, wouldn't you be eager to use it?"

"Just like you just did."

Mista paused slightly, her voice becoming even colder and sharper:

"Then, Formaggio."

"Guess where my doubles are right now?"

Hearing this, Formaggio felt a chill run down his spine.

He suddenly realized that he had indeed overlooked something:

Where is Mista's Stand?

Just a second ago, those stand-in figures were shrunk to hundreds of times their original size, floating grains of sand barely visible to the naked eye.

But after Mista grows bigger, these little guys should revert to bullet size, about three centimeters tall.

Given their size (like bullets) and the sheer number of six, they should be easily visible to the naked eye.

But now, Formaggio can only see Mista.

All six of his doubles have disappeared.

"In your lungs."

Formaggio suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest.

He had just felt something unusual in his body, but the pain was so mild that it was overshadowed by other injuries, so he hadn't paid any attention to it.

But now, the pain has suddenly struck like a raging storm.

"Sex Pistols shrunk hundreds of times has no lethality, but it can fly into your respiratory tract without you even noticing."

"And once they return to their original size, these six little guys, about the size of bullets, will become extremely deadly weapons."

Mista stared intently at Formaggio.

There was no hatred, no mockery in his eyes, only the calm and weariness of a victor:

"Do you understand now?"

"My Sex Pistols has already entered your body."