Chapter 250: Self-injury of 3,000
Formaggio was about to catch his prey .
Maybe he was just two steps away, or one step away, and he would be able to crush Mista, who was running away in a panic, into a meat paste.
But at this moment, somehow, Mista seemed to have a last burst of energy, and his speed of jumping against the wall suddenly increased.
"What?"
Formaggio frowned deeply.
Mista's overly tenacious vitality made him involuntarily think of cockroaches.
Many times you feel like you are about to crush the cockroach to pieces, but these indestructible creatures can suddenly dash away far away, dragging their own limbs and body parts.
This feeling is indeed very uncomfortable.
"You still have the strength to speed up?"
"Did he hide his energy before, or did something stimulate his outburst?"
Following the direction in which Mista fled, Formaggio looked intently.
Soon, he saw Mista's destination:
"Drain? I see..."
Formaggio saw through his opponent's intentions at a glance:
"Those drainage pipes are narrow and can't be drilled into unless they are made smaller."
"Mistad's small size was an advantage there. He could have safely escaped to another place through the drainage pipe."
"And if I were to shrink and get into the pipe to chase him, I wouldn't have the size and strength advantage over him."
"But... hehe..."
"You don't seem to understand at all, Mista."
Not knowing what he was thinking of, a sneer appeared on Formaggio's lips.
He didn't even quicken his pace to chase after him, but just followed Mista leisurely.
Mista, on the other hand, jumped forward with all his might, totally ignoring the blood flowing from his body.
Soon, he jumped to the drain with difficulty.
Mista began to climb up in a hurry and soon got into the narrow drainage pipe.
However, I don’t know what I thought of...
Mista did not drill deeper into the pipe as Formaggio had imagined, but instead stopped at the mouth of the pipe.
He suddenly turned around and bent down to the edge of the pipe, looking like a front-line soldier lying in a trench waiting for battle.
"You're not running away?"
Formaggio asked, somewhat surprised.
"Will running away help?"
"The range of your ability is at least several dozen meters, right?"
"My body is so small and broken now, there is no way I can escape that far."
Mista sighed, but there was no despair in his tone:
"Besides, do you think I came here just to run away?"
"I'm here just for the pipeline itself—"
"This pipe is made of iron, and the edge of this pipe... huh... a 'giant' like you shouldn't be able to see it at all, right?"
"There is a small metal protrusion at the mouth of the pipe."
As he spoke, he suddenly reached into his arms while lying at the mouth of the pipe and fumbled around for a while. He soon pulled out a small yellow and golden thing.
These are the bullets for the pistol he carries with him.
But Formaggio could only vaguely see Mista's movements, but could not see clearly what he took out.
There was no way, Mista had shrunk too much.
At this moment, the pistol bullets in his body and his substitute sexy pistol have shrunk proportionally into small grains of sand that are difficult to distinguish with the naked eye.
In this dim light, Formaggio couldn't see clearly at all.
But Mista was afraid that his opponent didn't know how he died, so he held up the tiny bullet in his hand and explained to Formaggio:
"Don't you understand yet?"
"The bullet doesn't have to be put into the pistol to fire. Its primer can be detonated as long as the firing pin hits it."
"And now, the protruding iron sheet at the mouth of the pipe can be used as the 'firing pin' to detonate the primer!"
"Detonate the primer?"
Formaggio was slightly stunned when he heard this:
What’s the point of just detonating the primer?
Without the ballistic stability and airtight acceleration provided by a pistol barrel, what power could a bullet detonated out of thin air have?
Isn't this just setting off a firecracker?
Apart from hearing a noise and seeing a fire, there is nothing...
"Wait...fire? Could it be?"
A very bad thought suddenly came to Formaggio's mind.
Mista seemed to have caught the change in emotions at this moment, and he immediately said while the iron was hot:
"You should be able to smell it, right?"
"The strong smell of methane accumulated in this sewer!"
"As you follow me towards this side, the further you are from the manhole cover, the stronger the smell will become!"
"Now...haha, as long as I detonate this bullet and ignite a ray of fire..."
Mista tightly grasped the bullet in his hand and shouted loudly:
"You and I will both die in this flame!"
"What?!"
Formaggio's expression changed slightly:
It turns out that Mista’s purpose was not to escape at all, but to die with him!
This is the main sewer that collects a large amount of domestic sewage. The stench inside is suffocating, and the smell of methane is indeed very strong.
Of course, it is difficult to say whether the methane gas can reach an explosive concentration just by judging by the nose.
But if the methane here really reaches a concentration that can be detonated, and Mista adds another ignition, then Formaggio, who was originally expected to win the game, will really be in trouble.
"What a dangerous tactic..."
"You were able to find an opportunity under such circumstances. It seems that I underestimated you."
Formaggio was deeply impressed by Mista's wit and decisiveness.
But there was no panic in his tone.
"What a shame, Mista."
"You just wanted to find an opportunity to die with me in a desperate situation, but you forgot... no, you didn't understand at all..."
"My Stand ability!"
Formaggio stared closely at Mista.
At this moment, Mista was lying at the mouth of the pipe, holding a bullet high in one hand and smashing it heavily into the metal pipe mouth below.
Once it falls, Formaggio's life will be decided by God.
But Formaggio did not intend to give Mista this opportunity:
"It takes me a long time to make objects smaller, but only a moment to make them return to their original shape!"
"This is true not only for me, but also for you!"
"And now, look... where have you gone, Mista?"
"Can such a narrow pipe mouth accommodate your huge body after it grows bigger?"
"Places like sewer pipes can easily become full!"
Formaggio's voice echoed in the darkness like a devil's whisper.
Then, just before Mista detonated the bullet, he whispered in his heart:
“Little Feet!”
"Restore him to his original state!"
At this moment...
Like cooked popcorn, Mista's body suddenly expanded and grew larger.
He suddenly changed from a dwarf less than 30 cm tall to a tall man of 1.79 meters.
This would be considered a good thing under normal circumstances, but if it happened now, in this narrow drainage pipe... it would be a complete horror movie.
Mista's upper body is fine:
His upper body was originally sticking out of the pipe, and now that it had grown bigger, it fell onto the narrow cement road in the sewer.
But his lower body was completely inside the pipe...
After this moment of expansion, his lower body was squeezed together by the narrow drainage pipe, forming a red cylinder with a diameter of less than 20 centimeters.
The front part of the drainage pipe was completely filled with flesh and blood that had rotted into a paste.
The power of this blow is no less than beheading, and in terms of weirdness and horror, it is far superior to those punishments invented by ordinary people.
"ah--"
Mista's painful groans echoed in the sewer.
"You're not dead yet?"
Formaggio's expression showed a little more shock:
"You are still alive with only half of your body left. Are you a monster?"
"Ha ha…"
Mista laughed with difficulty.
Not only was he not dead, he was also very conscious:
"It's a bit embarrassing to say this, but..."
"I am indeed very confident when it comes to taking a beating."
"Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to use this self-defeating tactic."
"Tactics?"
Formaggio's expression changed slightly:
Even after it has become like this, Mista is still in the mood to talk about tactics?
No, it's not just that...
How come this guy doesn't show any fear at all even though he suddenly suffered such a severe injury?
Could it be…could it be?
"I did it on purpose."
Mista gritted his teeth:
"I know you can make objects grow instantly, like the ballpoint pen that suddenly appeared in my pocket earlier."
"But I still got into this narrow pipe... After all..."
With only half of his body left, he still stared at Formaggio:
"If I don't get in this pipe, you're not going to make me bigger anyway, right?"
"W-what?"
Formaggio shuddered:
"You just want me to make you bigger?"
"Before that, the so-called 'detonating methane' tactic..."
"That's just a trick to force you to make a decision quickly."
Mista replied coldly:
"When you see someone holding a bomb and about to die with you, you won't have time to think too much."
"As long as there is a way to stop the enemy and keep yourself alive, you will definitely use it immediately, right?"
"Like... you just did."
Mista paused for a moment, and his voice became even colder:
"So, Formaggio..."
"Guess where my stand-ins are now?"
Hearing this, Formaggio felt terrified.
He suddenly realized that he had indeed overlooked something:
Stand-in, where is Mista's stand-in?
Those stand-in figures were floating grains of sand that had been shrunk hundreds of times a second ago and were difficult to distinguish with the naked eye.
But after Mista grows bigger, these little guys should return to the size of bullets, about three centimeters tall.
Given the size of the bullets, and the number of them being six, they should be easy to see with the naked eye.
But now, Formaggio could only see Mista.
All six of his doubles were gone.
"In your lungs."
Formaggio suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest.
He just felt something strange inside his body, but the pain was too mild and was covered up by other injuries, so he didn't pay much attention to it.
But now, the pain suddenly came up like a flood.
"A sexy pistol that has been shrunk hundreds of times has no lethality, but it can fly into your airway without you noticing."
"And once they return to their original form, these six little guys, roughly the size of bullets, will become very deadly weapons."
Mista stared at Formaggio.
There was no hatred or mockery in his eyes, only a kind of calmness and exhaustion that belonged to the victor:
"Do you understand?"
"My sexy pistol has already entered your body."
