"Javi, go!"
And Levi moved.
He didn't run, he blinked. Reality folded and spit him out mid-teleport, already aiming to intercept.
Spencer saw it all before it happened.
"Watch him. Javi, take cover!!"
The shout wasn't panic, it was strategy. Spencer had already pulled the trigger.
Three bullets, each vibrating with violent Vibe energy, tore out of the gun and screamed toward the same place Levi was teleporting to. Not where he was. Where he'd be.
Levi reappeared, just in time to see the bullets cutting through air like they were allergic to friction.
He was fast.
But not faster than this.
In that instant, the battlefield froze. Levi had one second, no less to decide:
Chase Javi, and take the hit. Or dodge the bullets and lose him.
There was no middle ground. No time to be clever. Just the sharp, impossible weight of choice slamming down like a blade.
***
"Perv minded… ughh. Prolly thinks he's flirting or some bullshit," Michelle rolled her eyes.
"Another thing that makes Levi so special."
And boom—she gone.
Like bro, Michelle mentally just packed a bag and checked into the Levi Deluxe Daydream Suite. Homegirl took the express train to Delulu-Ville, population: her and Levi's six-pack.
Meanwhile Ralph over here trying to clap back like a low-class villain. Homie pulled out:
"Dude you're the one who's pervy."
Wait a minute…THAT'S IT?
LMAO bro thought he dropped a nuke. But that??? Nah... That was a water balloon.
"Yeah right... 'just scream already' is just another conversation friendly bullshit," Michelle shot back, turning his confidence into ash like she's Thanos but petty.
Bro got cooked.
"Shut up girl… I'm not interested in you."
Ah. Classic line. He's panicking. Sweating. Pants probably hotboxed from fear. Self-esteem? Missing. Presumed dead.
Michelle blinked. Twice.
"Yeah sure... OMG is he getting a boner right now???" she cackled.
"Damn, this fight is over."
Yeah she wasn't kidding about that. Ralph's soul just ascended. That boy needs therapy and three years of silence.
"Shut up!!" Ralph barked back like he had a chance.
Aaaaand now the narrator (002) is sittin' here wondering what the hell's even happening. Are we fighting? Flirting? Committing war crimes via words?
IDK bro.... but I'm loving it.
Let's see how 001 is doing with the Spencer vs Levi fight for a second.
***
Spencer had already read Levi like a sacred manuscripteach movement annotated, each instinct foreseen. To most, Levi was a mystery forged in silence and fury. To Spencer, he was predictable, a candle flame dancing in a storm he had already mapped.
Before the first clash, before steel met will, Spencer had given Javi a single command: "Go for Jacob." Because he knew that Levi would intervene. That was the first step. The first thread in a design far more intricate than Levi could imagine.
When Spencer fired those bullets, he did not aim to strike. He aimed to confirm. He suspected Levi had gleaned something from his past encounters, perhaps even the knowledge of Vibe Armor. The bullets were not weapons. They were questions. And Levi, with his defensive reflex and reinforced shield, gave Spencer the answer he sought.
But Spencer did not deal in answers... He dealt in outcomes. Those bullets had never been mere projectiles. They carried within them fragments of his Vibe—slivers of his essence, echoes of self scattered across the battlefield. Levi believed he was shielding against impact. He was shielding against Spencer.
The moment one of those bullets neared Levi's head, Spencer moved. Not with speed, but with precision. Not teleportation, but exchange. In one blink, the bullet vanished, and Spencer stood in its place—guns already mid-arc, slamming downward toward Levi's skull.
The strike landed, but it did not break. Levi's armor, thickened and concentrated at the point of contact, absorbed the blow. No blood. No fracture. Only the ringing of metal against resilience. But the true strike had never been the hit. It was the distraction.
In that heartbeat of recoil, Spencer slid his hand to his belt and drew another bullet. A simple motion. Effortless. He flicked it behind Levi with the grace of a master pianist pressing a single note. It flew silently, unseen. Unfelt. But not unnoticed, not by the field Spencer was weaving.
What followed was not a brawl, but a tempest. Blows fell like thunderclaps. Footfalls struck like war drums. Trees blurred as the combatants moved... two blurs tearing through the forest path like dueling comets. Levi pressed forward, vigilant. Spencer danced between positions, firing shots not to kill, but to place... to mark.
Each shot embedded a piece of him in the earth, in the air, in the rhythm of the battlefield. A map was forming. A circle. A cage. Levi believed he was adapting. But he was not reading the current page, he was trapped inside a chapter already written.
The true moment came as Spencer guided him to face forward, eyes locked in defiance. Levi turned his back to the beginning. To the bullet Spencer had tossed behind him when the fight began.
That was the trigger.
One by one, the discarded bullets shimmered, vibrated, and reformedeach transformed into Spencer. Not illusions. Not tricks. Extensions. Copies of him, arranged in a perfect ring, their weapons raised, their aim unerring.
Levi was outmaneuvered.
The battle had never been a contest of strength. It was a symphony. Spencer had composed it stroke by stroke. Every movement, every breath, every bullet had led to this moment. He had not merely won. He had authored Levi's defeat.