Kneel or kill yourself? Surely, that had to be a joke. Right?

One of the demons chuckled. Then another few picked up on the "joke" and laughed. Soon, all of them were laughing. Except for their leader. She wasn't laughing at all. She was the only one who could feel this pressure bearing down on her, crushing her. Her twisted soul wanted to escape.

It wasn't a joke; She knew. Halas was serious.

"Kneel or kill yourself!" one of the demons shouted and laughed. "Truly, he is one of us!"

Another demon applauded. "We should use that line when we enter Creation!"

Their leader swallowed. "Silence!" she shouted, her voice otherworldly. Her demonic features were clear when she used that tone; voice like crystal chimes singing in the wind. As if the horns, and flattened crown of black fire was not hint enough.

"If we choose to kneel?" she asked.

The demons around her still murmured quietly, even after she demanded they quiet down. But that question silenced every last one of them. Reality settled in.

"Quick death," Halas responded, voice loud enough to overpower any thought of resistance. It made the phrase sound like it was a natural thing, as easy as breathing. Killing a few dozen demons? No problem!

"Quick death?" One of the demons stepped forward. "We are Aisella's honor guard. I'd like to see you try, little Calamity! Come, father will teach you some manners!"

Halas didn't know what a father was, but it didn't care either. This is the part it enjoyed the most: Futile resistance.

[Emotion Matrix: Pleased.]

24mm Aegis CIWS created. -9488 MP.

7000x 24mm AP-I rounds created. -442 MP.

Halas took a deep "breath". Of course, the creature didn't breathe, but what it did felt exactly like that. The mana in the room, the dweomer, spiralled into its Mana Reactor and something began to materialize on top of its turret-shaped body. The object was a box, with eight cylinders extending from the base of the construct, each one two meters long.

The cylinders began to spin and a noise filled the air; It was a terrible mechanical whirr that both frightened and confused the demons. What was that thing? A weapon?

Then the CIWS began spitting out bullets at a rate of 1800 per minute, or 30 bullets per second. Every fourth bullet was a tracer, and still, it looked like a long, flaming tongue that lashed down onto the demons, blowing their bodies to bits and pieces. There were so many notifications from the damage assessment skill that Halas had to consciously ignore them.

Halas started from the left, mowing down the creatures of Hell as if they were target practice. The ones on the right had just enough time to summon their spells and barriers, their voices joining together in a cacophony of indistinguishable noise.

Barriers of blue, yellow, red and purple appeared before them. Diamond-patterened, checker-patterned, film and oil, all sorts of defenses layered together.

But it didn't matter. When the bullets hit the barriers they punched so many holes into the defensive spells they looked like swiss cheese.

Glittering fragments of magic exploded into the air as the spells fell apart, and then the bullets rained down upon the demons, tearing off their limbs and setting fire to their clothes and hair.

Where there was laughing, there was only screaming now. Even riddled with bullets, the demons clinged to life. They were tough to kill, but Halas didn't mind.

All things worth doing should be done thoroughly.

The CIWS barrels stopped spinning for only a brief moment, glowing red hot barrels spewing smoke into the air. Then the sound returned, and the barrels continued their malevolent revolutions, bullets raining upon the dying demons.

You have unlocked the Marksman skillset.

Your proficiency with the ranged weapon type has improved.

Your proficiency with multi-barrel firearms has improved.

Your proficiency with dead eye has improved.

You are now level 7.

If they knew what level the creature was, and if they knew that this would've happened, they would've chosen to kill themselves. But there was no hope now. Their fate had been decided. Their death... it was not quick at all. Because Halas lacked the skill to inflict critical hits and put them out of their misery, it had to rely on depleting their health to 0 to kill them. This didn't seem strange to Halas at all.

5400x 24mm non-lethal rubber rounds created.

Indeed, all things worth doing were worth doing thoroughly and enjoyably.

The screaming continued for a dozen minutes. Aisella was the only one who was spared this terrible fate, and she could not help but wonder what the Calamity had in mind for her. Her legs gave out, fear overwhelmed her, and she fell to her knees.

In that moment, she lamented being born in this world.

"Please... mercy..." she spoke weakly.

"Negative."

This was hell.

"The Annihilation Squad is here!" a trainee of the guild rushed into the command tent and said. "They are here, sir!"

Asher looked up from the maps. The last foray into the Iscar dungeon, into the forbidden levels, has filled in quite a few blank spots. Although the path to the bottom had always been known, few adventurers dared to stray from it. But this time, because they searching from room to room, they had explored quite a bit. It still surprised Asher to find how mind-bogglingly massive these structures were. Kilometers deep and long. It was unthinkable.

"Bring them here," Asher said.

"Yes, sir!" The trainee saluted and ran out of the tent.

After a moment, the trainee returned with a trio of people.

"Asher, it has been a while," a red-haired man said. He wore a cloak with a red sabre and shield symbol.

"Tyko," Asher said, nodding to the man. Asher greeted the other two, whom he didn't recognize.

"The King ordered us to chase down a Calamity. Did you find it?" Tyko asked, before gesturing to the other two. "These are Zinell and Pike. Zinell is our strategist, from the Order of Knights, and Pike is from the Skyward Guild."

Asher nodded. Then nodded again at the introductions. "We have. It is a level 2, class K Calamity."

Tyko burst out into laughter. "Level 2?"

Asher's face was like chiseled stone. "Level 2," he said, gravelly.