I didn't even have time to process what was happening before the white blur dropped out of the burning rooftop above me.
Ariya landed in a low crouch twenty feet away, claws already extended and dripping with the dark blood of whatever mutant she had just finished eating. Her blindfold glowed faintly with those crimson Upper Rank markings, and the killing intent rolling off her was heavy enough to press down on the air itself. She stared straight at me—tall figure in a torn black suit, steel barrel jutting from my forehead like some twisted horn, hammer sticking out the back of my skull, left arm fused into an M4 carbine—and made her decision right there.
"A monster that can think," she said, voice low and flat. "You don't smell like a demon. You're not taking any more kills from my lord's ground. I'll tear you apart and leave the pieces for the zombies."
She didn't wait for an answer. Her right hand slashed forward. The blood still wet on her claws hardened in mid-air and shot toward my chest like a spear. Piercing Blood. The lance flew straight and fast, whistling through the smoke. I twisted at the last second, but it still grazed my ribs, slicing clean through the suit and the layer beneath. Black fluid seeped out. The system registered the damage somewhere in the back of my mind, but I barely felt it.
That technique hit me harder than the wound itself. Blood control. A real Blood Demon Art. Ariya had awakened something this advanced after only a few months as a demon. The way the blood shaped itself, the speed, the way it followed her will—it was exactly like Choso from Jujutsu Kaisen. Piercing Blood. Same principle, same deadly guidance. I hadn't expected that from her. Not this soon.
She pressed forward without hesitation. Another lance formed in her left hand, thicker this time and spinning like a drill. She hurled it while leaping sideways along the wall of a burning barracks. Blood platforms appeared under her feet, giving her footing where there should have been none. I dodged again, but the lance curved at the last moment and clipped my shoulder, tearing out a chunk of synthetic flesh. I let myself stagger, rifle arm swinging wide like I was struggling to keep track of her speed.
She landed on the hood of a wrecked truck, lips pulled back in a cold smile. "You bleed? What kind of mutant are you?"
She dropped both palms to the ground. Blood rose around her into a ring of glowing crimson orbs. Blood Meteor. She flung them all at once. I swept the rifle arm across, bullets knocking most of them out of the air in bright flashes and sparks. Three still got through. One struck my thigh, another opened my side, the third slammed into the hammer on the back of my skull. The impact rang through my head like a struck bell.
Ariya saw the hits land and came in closer. A blood whip cracked out from her own wound, lashing across my chest and carving another deep line. She was fast and ruthless, but she still fought like someone who had only been a demon for a short time. No deep battle instincts yet. Just raw power and the anger that came from months of loneliness and pain.
I kept moving backward through the smoke, rifle arm firing short bursts to keep her at range. She blocked with a wall of hardened blood, then countered with another spinning lance. It punched through my torso. Black fluid sprayed across the ground. She smiled behind the blindfold, thinking she had me cornered.
That was when I stopped pretending.
The Gun Devil wasn't just wearing this body. I was the Gun Devil. Metal was what I was made of now.
My back rippled. Six new barrels unfolded from my spine like steel limbs, each one is a different guns. They angled forward, locking onto her from every side at once. The hammer on my skull clicked once. The forehead pistol stayed trained. The original rifle arm never lowered.
Ariya's eyes widened behind the cracked blindfold. "What—"
I fired.
All barrels opened up at the same time. The roar swallowed the night. Bullets tore through the air, guided just enough by the devil's power to cut off every escape route she tried to take. She slapped up a blood shield—Converging Blood—but it formed too late. The first volley punched straight through it. Rounds slammed into her chest, shoulders, and legs. Holes opened faster than her regeneration could close them. She spun, trying to leap away on blood platforms, but the new barrels tracked her and kept firing without pause.
If she had still been human she would have died in the first two seconds. Her body jerked with every impact. Blood sprayed from her mouth and from the wounds that kept tearing open. She crashed into the side of a jeep, rolled across the ground, and came up gasping for air. Her blindfold was cracked down the middle now. One of the Upper Rank symbols flickered and dimmed like a dying bulb.
I walked forward steadily. The spider barrels retracted and extended again in new angles, keeping the pressure on. Smoke poured from every muzzle. My suit hung in tatters around me. Black fluid dripped from my own wounds, but they were already sealing. The Gun Devil template did not get tired. It only became more precise the longer the fight went on.
Ariya dodged like someone still learning the rules. Her movements were frantic now, no longer smooth or calculated. She had been a normal blind girl in a hospital bed only a few months ago. She had power, but she did not have the instincts that come from years of fighting for survival. Every bullet that grazed her slowed her down more. One clipped her blindfold again. Another punched clean through her stomach and out her back. She coughed blood, sealed the hole with visible effort, but her steps were growing heavier and slower.
I kept the barrage going. Short controlled bursts mixed with longer sweeps. The spider guns shifted positions constantly, forcing her to keep turning, forcing her to waste energy on defense instead of attack. She tried to form another blood whip to yank one of the barrels away. It wrapped around one of the spider limbs and pulled hard. The gun tore free with a metallic rip, but five more grew back in its place before she could even blink. She stared at the new barrels for half a second too long. That hesitation cost her. Three rounds slammed into her left leg, dropping her to one knee.
She pushed up again, breathing hard, white hair matted with ash and her own blood. For the first time since the fight started, real doubt showed on her face. She was starting to understand that she was not winning. She was surviving.
I finally lowered the barrels. The spider guns folded back into my spine one by one until only the rifle arm and forehead pistol remained. Smoke curled around me in thick coils. The fight was over.
Ariya pushed herself up on shaking arms. Blood dripped from her chin. She looked at me—really looked—and confusion cut through the pain in her eyes.
"You're… not a normal mutant," she said quietly. "What are you?"
I took one step closer. The hammer on the back of my skull clicked back into place with a soft metallic sound.
Before I could decide whether to answer, she forced herself to stand. Feet planted wide. One hand raised high above her head. The other pressed flat against her chest. Every drop of blood on the ground within fifty feet—every puddle, every spray, every stain left by our fight and the zombies around us—lifted into the air at once. It swirled faster and faster, condensing into thousands of razor-thin crimson needles that floated around her like a deadly storm cloud.
Her voice came out steady despite the damage.
"Blood Demon Art…"
The needles locked onto me from every single direction.
I raised the guns again.
But the words that left her mouth next made me stop cold.
"Blood Demon Art: Crimson Binding Chain—Maximum Output!"
The needles fused together in mid-air into one massive blood-red chain, thick as a tree trunk and glowing with power I had not seen from her yet. It shot forward like a living serpent, straight for my chest, and this time I wasn't sure my bullets would reach it before it hit.