I gulped audibly.
The door in front of me was massive; its steel and wooden frame was decorated by motifs of a demon that resembles Moloch in his full glory. At the other side of the door, moans and growls can be heard as unknown number of demons lurking at the other side of the door prowls inside the room.
In my hand was a Mossberg 500 chambered in 12 gauges. It was fully loaded and I carried 10 more buckshot shells in my pack. My hunting rifle was slung at my back, empty. My 1911 was on my side, fully loaded with 5 more magazines left. My left arm was bound tightly by bandages; the dull pain irritates me to no end. 2 frag grenades were stuck on my jacket, waiting to be unleashed against a group of abominations.
Here I am, with minimal supply, tired, hungry, wounded and scared. And at the other side of the door, hungry, angry demons prowl through the hallway, waiting for me to make my appearance. It is suicide to charge blindly in, but what choice do I have in this situation? I have been fighting non-stop for the last 2 hours, squads after squads of demons pouring in from almost every orifice in this complex ready to tear my penis off.
The answer was the same and always be the same; If I retreat I'll die, If I stay I'll die; If I go I might die, so why stay?
I then opened the door and slip in a single frag grenade. The door cushioned the impact from the ensuing explosion. With a roar, I kicked the door open and charged forward.
3 pinkies dead, their arms and faces were blown to smithereens from my pilfered grenade. It was a good thing that they discard human weaponries all over the place willy-nilly. One of the corpses then twitched, and then exhaled a small aura before finally dying. The aura converges into a floating pentagram complete with a goat skull. The other demons, finally recovered from the shock of my grenade snarled and readied their fireballs.
I was faster; I quickly homed onto the demonic essence and absorbed its power into my bloodstream. Rage, that what I felt at that time. Rage, anger, and vindictive determination burned my heart as the Berserk powerup entered through my bloodstream.
I grinned wildly as an imp jumped to my direction, snarling.
Gonna get mine,
Get outta my way,
There's gonna be, (gonna be!)
Gonna be Hell to Pay!
Adrenaline pumping high, I ran forward and batted the poor fucker off the sky to the opposite direction. The shotgun stock deformed the fucker's chest thanks to my demonic-essence-fuelled strength. I literally send the hellspawn toward the opposing direction.
Berserk I'm a brutal fist,
Yeah a lone wolf born and bred!
I stand on the bone of Titans,
And my wrath is burning lead!
The perk of being a Danmaku player is that your senses was so acute that you can even see the gap in a magical barrage without looking at them. I then ran toward the downed imp, paying no heed toward the barrage of hellish fireballs that flew harmlessly at my back. I then punched the fucker's head into the ground, my brutal fist made short work of said demon.
I am a lone wolf born and bred for combat; I was used to fight alone.
Another Hell knight appeared pissed that I killed his underling. His fist was nothing but a pair of stump that resembles a pair of massive clubs. I rolled away from his charge, letting friendly fire do its work. The demon howled in pain as its comrade's fireball aimed at me hit him instead. I ran forward and shoved the shotgun's muzzle to the side of the bastard's head, blasting it back to hell at point-blank range. I turned around and let my buckshot do the talking as another pinkie foolishly charged toward me, his howls of pain a sign of my wrath against them. They may come at me with fire and brimstone, but my retribution is greater, for my wrath is burning lead!
Gonna get mine,
Get outta my way,
There's gonna be, (gonna be!)
Gonna be Hell to Pay!
I rolled away as a new barrage of electrical blue balls converges toward my direction. I turned around to see the culprit. Several flying meatballs with eyes were floating in the sky, out of reach from my fist. I quickly pumped in a new shell.
Click, Click,
Boom, Boom!
The first one got his face obliterated by the barrage of buckshot. Projectiles flew through the air as opposing forces fought furiously for their life and limbs. Click, click goes my shotgun as I pumped in a new shell, boom goes the muzzle as I pull the trigger and boom a Cacodemon fell onto the ground with an audiblescreech. Click, click, boom, boom, the soundtrack of death.
Gotta keep on rushing, running!
The drumming of the buckshot pumping!
Got molten metal in my vein!
Movement was key to survival, so I darted to and fro as the squadrons of imps on top of a pedestals tried their best to hit me and failed miserably. Hell Knights and Pinkies rushed to the battlefield, only to be taken out by my shotgun and the imps themselves. Running toward a hell knight, I caught him between his eyes with a flurry of buckshot. I turned around and shot another charging pinkie at his face and watched with glee as he was set on fire by his impish comrade. The buckshot kept pumping in a rhythmic drumming as I methodically blasted fools that got near me. My vein was bulging from my arms, hot blood akin to molten metal coursed through my vein as my heart pumped to the rhythm of buckshot.
Click, click,
Boom, Boom!
Gotta keep on rushing, running!
A reckoning of lead is coming!
I'm kicking at the gates of hell again!
Run, run as fast as you can, but you cannot catch the gingerbread man!
Sorry just had to.
Bullets is my reply to their barrage, hot, leaden wrath of justice flew through the sky and embedded themselves at the walls and the bodies of the demons. The squadron of imps and cacodemons panicked as I thinned their ranks slowly but surely in the arena. They realized that a reckoning of lead is coming, and I'm the messenger.
Despite the danger I faced, I cannot shake the feeling that it was very familiar to me-scratch that, it was fucking similar to all the Danmaku duels back in Gensokyo. Dodge bullets and reply with your own magic barrage. This is no different from the hellish barrage I faced from any regular spellcard duels back home. The rule of this fight was almost the same as spellcard duels, don't get hit. I grinned wildly at this familiarity. I already kicked the gates of hell, what am I doing now is just kicking the same gates of hell again.
Bringer of pain!
A baron of Hell entered the arena, its larger frame and its scarlet skin tone grabbed my attention in the arena. His glowing red eyes shone with hatred as he let loose a roar of rage and hatred. Every footstep he took toward me let out an audible booming sound as its cloven hoof made contact with the ground.
I pumped the 500 in my hand only to realize I've ran out of ammo. I gritted my teeth and threw the offending weapon toward the demon. The demon caught it with his clawed hands, but he did not see the flying grenade coming toward him. The ensuing blast knocked him to his knees; the concussion from the blast disoriented the demon. I roared again and charged straight toward the demon with a knife in my hand, a single powerful purpose in my mind and body;
Rip and Tear!