Mr. Veyne has a special fondness for lasers. Anyone who's been hit by them a hundred or eighty times would probably have some thoughts.
At first, there was no chance to dodge, but after being bombarded for a long time, once he was able to dodge, he felt extremely refreshed.
To be honest, the level of the Demon Butterfly was far inferior to Dora's. In Veyne's eyes, this level of rapid fire wasn't considered rapid fire at all.
The distance between them was too large, and since they were fired from the air, the error was even greater when they landed on the ground.
Although Iron Prime's equipment was outdated, it still had basic analytical equipment. Once it had analyzed the information, Veyne could respond quickly.
Some things were simpler, and could be judged solely by sight and experience.
After ten minutes of vigorous warm-up and ten minutes of stunned silence, players were disappointed to see Iron Prime passively taking the beating. This wasn't his style.
How could this happen? And not even firing a single shot? What kind of a move?
But after watching for a while, the players understood that the Vanguard wasn't trying to shoot down the opponent at all. He was clearly practicing some kind of footwork or simply practicing evasion.
...In short, the Magic Butterfly was just a sparring partner.
The seemingly intense and vigorous attacks were narrowly avoided by the Vanguard, and each dangerous dodge drew exclamations from the players, until by the end, they were completely speechless.
Flying Beacon was also frantic. At first, he thought his superior firepower had completely suppressed the opponent, leaving the Vanguard to scurry around like prey, looking utterly miserable.
But after a while, he realized that the opponent was showing contempt for him, clearly not taking him seriously!
He told himself to stay calm a thousand times, absolutely, but Flying Beacon simply couldn't calm down. He had the absolute advantage, yet he was being played like a fool. What the hell? He had to teach this guy a lesson.
The Demon Butterfly dropped lower again. While this was more dangerous, the attacks were even more ferocious. He wanted to see how long the Vanguard could hide.
Even a true soldier would tire of performing difficult evasive maneuvers for fifteen minutes straight. Their movements would surely become slower, while his attacks would only grow more powerful. "You're playing with fire, this time I'm going to kill you!"
Veyne didn't care what others thought. The enemy's attacks were getting more intense, especially after they dropped in altitude. The low-altitude, high-density bombardment made Lightning Strides alone no longer enough.
Iron Prime was forced to perform difficult, large-scale maneuvers, often requiring Lightning Strides after each move.
Despite the ferocious attacks of the Demon Butterfly, Iron Prime's movements remained fluid. The players were all experts, and the various challenging maneuvers didn't feel rushed or overwhelming.
On the contrary, everyone felt the Vanguard was enjoying the ferocity of the opponent's attacks, leaving a little room for maneuver between each maneuver, suggesting that this level of attack wasn't a big deal.
Flying Beacon's eyes were red with anger. He had thought that lowering his altitude would at least encourage a few attacks, but after dozens of attacks, the opponent still showed no sign of attacking.
This infuriated him to the extreme. He unleashed a barrage of fire and lowered his altitude again. Damn it, let's fight this guy to death!
Laser fire swiped down, and under the hail of bullets, Iron Prime was forced to increase his movement frequency, which was a considerable strain on his body.
No one knew what kind of build the owner of this mobile suit was, and what kind of training he had to undergo to perform such maneuvers.
Time ticked by, and both sides were engaged in a fierce battle, seemingly oblivious to time.
At least Flying Beacon had forgotten their initial plan and was only focused on bombing relentlessly. It was truly infuriating.
But the other players on the scene had seen it. Some clever players had already discovered Flying Beacon's underhanded tactics. It was truly shady.
The two were locked in a fierce battle, and they probably had no energy or time. With time running out, even if the other players wanted to notify him, they couldn't; they couldn't interfere with the game.
And there was no doubt that Flying Beacon had disabled the battle timer. He had calculated this all along.
The countdown began, and the players nervously watched the stopwatch. The Vanguard continued to cautiously dodge the lasers. Under such an onslaught, Veyne dared not afford to be careless.
Ten, nine, eight... five, four, three!
Card
When the players silently counted to three, some sighed. Although the Vanguard had delivered a classic dodge, averages were always disappointing.
Some who didn't want to watch had already logged off. Damn, it was so frustrating! That Flying Beacon was so insidious!
But some players persisted, believing a miracle would happen, even if they themselves didn't quite believe it.
When the countdown reached three, the Magic Butterfly had just finished its round of attacks and was about to soar back for another attack.
Iron Prime had just flanked, his body hunched. When he straightened up, there was definitely not enough time for the laser to activate.
But this time, Iron Prime made a different move. No one knew when he had taken out the Titanium Blade. Without even looking, Iron Prime fired it back.
Two... and a second later, the Titanium Blade hit the Magic Butterfly's head. Boom...
System prompt: Vanguard vs. Flying Beacon, Vanguard wins!
...
Flying Beacon didn't understand what was happening until his computer crashed. Was fate playing a trick on him?
The players who persevered to the end screamed wildly, and everyone in the game room jumped up.
A seemingly newbie stared blankly at the screen, muttering, "Holy crap! This is too much! Is the Iron Prime the most powerful model?"
Everyone shuddered, and someone nearby patted the newbie on the shoulder.
"Dude, you're from Saturn, right? Even elementary school students know the Iron Prime is an antique model."
As soon as the opponent exploded, Veyne logged off. This was an old habit; flattery wouldn't improve his abilities.
He needed to think calmly. The entire fifteen minutes seemed perfect, but in reality, there were at least three fatal errors, simply because his opponent couldn't grasp them.
I've been practicing less lately, so my movements are a bit stiff, but they're not completely without merit. There were one or two moves I tried for the first time, and I surprisingly managed to pull them off. I needed to learn more about them.
Even though Dora wasn't around, Veyne had already developed a habit of reviewing his progress. It didn't matter if there were mistakes, but repeating the same mistake was absolutely unacceptable.