His body was red. Experiencing a blast from a concentrated beam of water was not a good thing. It stung his skin.
His shoes were wet, each step he took brought an uncomfortable feeling inside his stomach.
Thankfully, his cloak was working its job. Removing the water but it was quite a slow process.
He sighed.
They had been non stop running after that short fight. Dante was thinking about how he could improve his fighting style. To be honest, when he looked at himself from another's eyes he didn't have a fixed fighting style.
He was completely dependent on the environment. He was the master of improvising.
He didn't know if it was a good thing or not. He hadn't experienced hardship with this.
He didn't have any glaring weaknesses. And there was no advantage in his fighting as well.
He depended too much on luck. His Zero-Point was great and all but it was a double edge sword. What if he encountered someone who can block his skill.
