"Neon Vortex Thunder Arrow": The power and voltage contained in the Neon Flash are further increased. You can rub the current in your body into a Thunder Arrow, and then shoot it out at super-fast speed. This Thunder Arrow will spin at high speed during flight, possessing extremely strong penetrative power.
Even if it crosses dozens of kilometers and penetrates dozens of centimeters of steel plate, its power will not diminish by half.
Each Thunder Arrow consumes 10% of the Electric Charge, and for every minute it flies, the Electric Charge consumption doubles.
The "Neon Vortex Thunder Arrow" can be attached to any thrown object to further enhance accuracy and penetrative power.
This "Neon Vortex Thunder Arrow" can be said to be an enhanced version of the Electric Surge Pulse. If Electric Surge Pulse is a revolver, then "Neon Vortex Thunder Arrow" is an anti-tank sniper rifle.
The only drawback is still the excessive Electric Charge consumption, but it is worth it.
Billie squinted one eye, retreated more than ten meters behind the coffee table, and aimed at the paper cups on the coffee table like a sharpshooter in a Western movie.
"Hit!" she low-drank, her waist suddenly exerted force, and her arm swung forward like a whip!
Whoosh—bang!
A piercing shriek suddenly erupted!
That spiral Thunder Arrow transformed into a dazzling rainbow light almost invisible to the naked eye, carrying destructive energy, and shot out at air-tearing speed!
Its power was so strong that Riley subconsciously took half a step back!
Then...
The Thunder Arrow... slammed into the wall behind!
A dull thud came, and the hard wall panel was easily melted through like tofu.
A brand new, bowl-sized hole, spewing thick green smoke, appeared menacingly on the wall.
Bottomless!
But the paper cup pyramid remained motionless.
Riley: "..."
The smug look on Billie's face instantly froze. She knew she shouldn't have gone to such extra lengths, even covering it with a paper cup pyramid as a target!
She picked up a bottle cap again, not believing in evil, and the current wrapped around it again, forming a Thunder Arrow.
Aimed again, fired!
Whoosh—bang!
This time it hit... the wooden frame on the edge of the tabletop.
Wood chips mixed with burnt smoke scattered everywhere.
The third time...
Whoosh—bang!
It was even further from the paper cup, flying past the decorative plaster line in the corner of the wall.
It made an equally exaggerated hole in the wall further away, and gravel rustled down!
Billie: "..."
Riley silently walked to the wall, pointed at the dozen or so small pits of varying depths and old and new on the wall, and asked calmly, "Are these... what drained your Electric Charge?"
Billie looked at the hideous wall of battle achievements, then turned back to look at the innocent paper cup pyramid on the table. The airflow from the Thunder Arrow's launch had blown over the topmost cup, as if comforting her, and finally met Riley's "I understand" gaze.
Her face, which hadn't been this red even when she fell just now, was now completely flushed!
Well, the drawback isn't just high Electric Charge consumption.
The most important thing is that Billie's aim is ridiculously bad.
Using Electric Surge Pulse at close range is fine, but if the distance is a little further, she can't aim accurately.
No way, Billie used to be just a sprinter, not a javelin, shot put, or archery athlete.
Riley looked at Billie's flustered appearance, and the corners of her mouth finally couldn't help but curl up again.
Billie held her breath, trying to maintain her last bit of dignity, but as soon as her gaze met Riley's knowing and mischievous smile, and the "great achievements" she had created on the wall, a sense of absurdity and humor suddenly rushed to her head.
"Pfft—"
In the end, Billie couldn't hold back either and burst out laughing, with a hint of self-mockery and helplessness.
When Riley saw her laugh, she also couldn't hold back, and her clear laughter rang through the private room like silver bells.
The two of them, one flushed with shame and anger yet unable to stop laughing, the other laughing so hard she was bent over.
In this messy private room, they laughed foolishly together, abandoning all pretense.
While Billie was almost demolishing the private room to show off her abilities, thousands of kilometers away, another clone of Serie chose a completely different weekend activity.
Zoya truly lives up to her reputation as the only reliable adult in the team.
While the other Witches and their best friends were being affectionate on the weekend.
Zoya went through the Rabbit Hole to a bar in a desolate small town along the railway line.
Outside the window were a lead-gray sky, dilapidated Soviet-style buildings, and withered leaves and snow swept up by the cold wind.
The bar was filled with the smell of cheap tobacco, aged vodka, and lingering despair. The customers were mostly workers with dull eyes, their edges worn smooth by life, idle young people, and some homeless people.
Zoya's idea was very practical.
The Witches need funds. They can't always live off Billie's ill-gotten dirty money, can they?
She wanted a legitimate income.
With her tall and upright figure, cold and exquisite Slavic face, and meticulous military demeanor, she easily secured a night shift bartender job at this dilapidated bar called Siberian Bear.
The boss, Lev, an old man with a beer belly and a missing front tooth, nodded in satisfaction as he watched Zoya expertly pour drinks—this girl is pretty, capable, and polite, she looks reliable! She can definitely keep things in order!
He had found a great bargain!
Initially, everything seemed to confirm the boss's judgment.
Zoya's movements were clean and swift. When mixing simple vodka with juice or beer, her wrist was as steady as if holding a firearm.
She was taciturn, but her eyes were sharp. A few old regulars who wanted to run up a tab were met with her cold glance and sheepishly pulled out crumpled rubles.
However, Zoya soon encountered the first major challenge of her career—
The rows of crystal-clear vodka bottles behind the bar, exuding a fatal temptation.
This was something that flowed in the blood of Russians, and it was also a comfort etched into Zoya's bones.
On the coldest nights on the battlefield, in moments of grief from losing comrades.
A small sip of spicy, hot liquid always brought a moment of numbness and false warmth.
Now, guarding this readily available treasure, that familiar craving gnawed at her willpower like ants.
"Just a small sip... to refresh myself..." Zoya told herself.
She quickly unscrewed a bottle of Capital brand vodka during a break in wiping the bottles and took a big gulp!
The fiery liquor slid down her throat, instantly igniting her chest, bringing a familiar burning sensation and a brief dizziness.
Hmm, it felt... not bad.
So, "a small sip" turned into "another sip," then "this bottle is open, it's a waste not to drink it"...
Zoya's stern expression remained, but her eyes began to wander slightly.
A subtle blush, barely noticeable and blending with the dim bar lights, also quietly crept onto her cheeks.
Her movements while wiping glasses were still swift, but occasionally she would give a fleeting, dreamy smile to the air.
Lev certainly noticed that Zoya occasionally drank during work, but as the saying goes, a cook who doesn't steal won't collect the grains.
He didn't take it seriously.
Firstly, Zoya only chose cheap liquor.
Secondly, if this could motivate the employee, perhaps Zoya could help him collect more unpaid bar tabs from delinquent customers.
However, trouble quietly arrived on just the second day.
Zoya's appearance and demeanor shone like a diamond in the sand in the bars of this gloomy small town.
Her slightly tipsy, languid demeanor, moreover, invisibly weakened that coldness that kept people at a distance, instead adding a dangerous allure.
A few half-drunk, self-important local hooligans gathered at the bar.
The leader was a burly man with a shaved head and a crudely tattooed double-headed eagle on his neck, named Xieergei.
"Hey, beautiful!" Xieergei reeked of alcohol, his greasy gaze shamelessly sweeping over Zoya, "New here? Never seen you before? How about some... special service for us brothers?"
He deliberately emphasized the word "special," eliciting a lewd chuckle from his companions.
Zoya didn't even lift her eyelids, coldly spitting out a single word: "What do you want to drink?"
Her voice carried a hint of imperceptible, wine-induced hoarseness, making it even more magnetic.
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