Wolfgang disappears into the back and returns with a carrying bag.
He lays out a handful of odd-shaped leather holsters across the counter.
“I’ve brought every axe holster we have in stock. If none of these work, I’ll take measurements and craft one for next time.”
“You even carry axe holsters? I thought this was a gun shop.”
“Meeting our clients’ needs is part of the job.”
He flashes a thin, satisfied smile.
“Let me try them.”
I pick up the first holster and slide in the Axe of Price. Fits like it was made for it.
The deadly edge sits secure, no risk of cutting myself. The handle rests clean against my hip, tight to my center of gravity.
Doesn’t shift when I stand or move. Feels like a natural extension of my body.
“It suits you perfectly, Mr. Akamuro.”
“Thanks. I’ll take this one—”
This sucks!
The axe starts rattling at my side, throwing a fit.
I lift it and glance into the handle. Inside the polished metal, the girl’s back again—arms crossed, sulking.
“What’s wrong now?”
It’s too loose! I’m not this fat! And cheap! I can’t believe you’re making a girl wear something this tacky!
“Fits fine to me.”
The gunsmith chimes in. “It does appear to fit properly. Technically speaking, it’s a little roomy—”
See?!
“—however, for combat, that’s ideal. Makes it easier to draw quickly.”
I stare down at her. She avoids my gaze, face turned to the side.
“Is something the matter, Mr. Akamuro?”
“It’s nothing. Just... Is this made from cheap leather?”
“That’s steerhide, as in cowhide. As materials go, it has a stable supply, so it’s not particularly expensive price-wise. It certainly has enough quality feel to it, though.”
I don’t want something this plain! Girls deserve nice things!
“Are you looking for something higher-end?”
“No, not me. The axe does.”
I want calfskin! The expensive kind!
“She says calfskin.”
“Kip or calf leather. Or perhaps pony hair. Those are certainly high-end, but the durability would be questionable for an axe holster. Especially for combat use.”
Then crocodile leather!
She’s just naming expensive things now, acting like she knows better…
I’m getting irritated.
“No way. I don’t want to wear crocodile.”
Then alligator!
“That’s still crocodile. You think I don’t know that?”
Fine, then caiman!
“Caiman? What’s caiman?” I glance at Wolfgang.
“Also crocodile.”
“Still crocodile. Enough already.”
Hmph! I want crocodile!
“Stubborn axe. Pretty sure no one makes crocodile leather axe sheaths anyway.”
“In fact, we do carry caiman leather. Ultra-premium.”
Wait, really?
He brings it out. At a glance, looks like slightly darker cowhide.
Weren’t crocodile leathers supposed to have more... bumps? I can’t even tell the difference.
I reluctantly sheath the axe.
Wow! This is perfect! So this is crocodile! Amazing!
“She seems happy. I’ll take it.”
“That’ll be 168,000 yen.”
Pricey. So this is what croc leather costs…
I help Wolfgang pack up the rest of the gear.
When our faces get close, he leans in and murmurs, “The truth, Mr. Akamuro. That’s just steerhide.”
“...Figured.” I snort.
Wolfgang winks and quietly slides over a receipt for 6,000 yen.
Crocodile leather♪ Crocodile leather♪
The clueless axe is practically humming.
Wolfgang moves on to the next subject.
“Now, about this next item. .50 AE mercury bullets and 5.56mm mercury bullets. I thought they’d have sufficient power to kill Demons, but—”
“Actually, I can’t infuse mana into mercury bullets. I can’t neutralize the magic armor of Demons.”
“I see. This was my mistake. I didn’t properly understand your requirements. You want to penetrate magical armor without neutralization, is that correct?”
“I didn’t explain it either, so…”
“Not an issue. The fact that you didn’t trust me is due to my own inadequacy. May I ask you one question? Why did you tell me this time?”
“Because I trust you.”
“Kind of you to say. I assume that’s one reason.”
“...The other reason is, well, it became clear that hiding it doesn’t really work anyway.”
Whether it’s the warehouse Demon, the one-winged bastard at Neon Circle, or the Greatshield Demon… Everyone figures it out anyway.
At this point, pretending otherwise is pointless.
“Thanks for your honesty. With that in mind, what can I get for you?”
“I want a gun that kills Demons.”
“A gun that kills Demons. Very well.”
He strides to the gun rack. Doesn’t even hesitate. Pulls down a rifle and sets it on the counter.
“SCAR-H. 20-round capacity. Fires 7.62×51mm mercury rounds. Belgian engineering. Like the Type 20, it has full Picatinny rails—top and handguard—so it’s compatible with all your current attachments.”
“That’s handy.”
“Much stronger than 5.56mm rounds. Long range, high accuracy. Should let you snipe clean out to 800 meters. The recoil is extreme, however, so full-auto’s more for emergencies. But it’s there if you need it.”
I shoulder it. Run through reload. Flip the fire selector.
It’s solid. No nonsense. Easy to use.
“I’ll take it.”
“One more item. An excellent sidearm.”
He returns with a box.
Inside is a revolver. Massive thing.
“S&W M500. The one and only that surpasses the Desert Eagle. The genuine world’s most powerful handgun.
Five-round capacity. Fires .500 S&W Magnum mercury rounds. These are armor-piercing—enough kinetic force to drop a grizzly in one shot. Even more energy than your 7.62mm.
But there is one downside to it.”
“Downside?”
“It’s not a gun that humans can handle.”
“That’s less a drawback and more a design flaw.”
“Hah, you can hardly be blamed for thinking so. The tremendous recoil makes it nearly impossible for even the biggest man to aim and hit anything. You’d have to mount it on a stand to have any hope.
Even with magical enhancement, it would be a struggle. That’s the kind of weapon this is. I’m not sure even you could handle it, Mr. Akamuro.”
“Almost sounds like a challenge.”
“Then please. Try it for yourself.”
He places five bullets on the counter. They look like they belong in a cannon, not a handgun.
Ding.
Door creaks open. Three men walk in. Smirks all around.
They glance around the shop, confirm it’s just us, then tilt their heads like they’re admiring the decor.
“Pathetic. Can’t even raid one sad little shop.”
“Brought real dead weight into the crew.”
“Doesn’t matter. Cleaning up’s what bosses are for.”
Their smiles widen into predator grins. Skin ripples. Horns, claws, inhuman features break through.
Mimicry-Types. Not Contractors. Full Demons.
“My… well this is a problem,” Wolfgang mutters, eyes widening.
Groaaar!
Cheeehk!
Wraaaagh!
I slot three mercury rounds into the revolver’s cylinder.
The Demons drop their disguises and come flying.
One clings to the ceiling. Another rakes claws down the wall. The third crashes straight through a display.
They’ve got a clean triangle. Three angles. Hard to track all at once.
“May I leave this to you, Mr. Akamuro?”
“Of course. Keep your head down.”
I tilt the gun sideways. Line up the one on the right wall.
Brace. Fire.
It’s not bad. Recoil’s big, but I control it—redirect the force sideways.
Roll the barrel up to the ceiling. Fire again.
Second Demon drops.
I use the kick from the second shot to snap the barrel left. Squeeze the trigger.
Three for three. All center mass.
One’s heart-shot. Dead before he hits the floor.
Not bad.
I grab the last two bullets. Pop the cylinder. Reload.
Demon two gets back up.
I shoot him in the head.
The bullet punches in above the brow. A quarter of his skull evaporates.
One left.
It lunges. I fire. Nail the shoulder.
Blood sprays. Doesn’t stop.
“EXORCIST!”
I sidestep. Let it smash into the counter.
It’s chaos. Wood flying and glass shattering as it gets up, thrashing around.
Time for Axey to shine.
Waahhh! Warn me before you throw me!
I hurl the axe. The blade sinks deep in the Demon’s chest.
Silence.
“Public safety is seriously deteriorating. I’m worried about this city’s future.”
Wolfgang stands and brushes off his coat. Adjusts his monocle and tie.
“I wasn’t planning to make a mess this time.”
“This is not your fault, Mr. Akamuro. Besides, scattered things can simply be cleaned up. Please don’t worry about it.”
He says it gently. Not rattled in the slightest.
“That sideways shooting technique, using the M500 at a 90-degree angle... I’m speechless. The recoil control alone? It’s unthinkable. That was Kung Fu as well?”
“This is also Kung Fu.”
I crack the cylinder. Flick out the shells. Pick one up and hand it over.
“.500 S&W Magnum mercury armor-piercing. I like it.”
“Then take all our stock. You’re the only customer qualified to use them.”
“I’ll take everything.”
“Thank you very much.”
With a happy smile, Wolfgang steps over the Demon corpse like it’s part of the floor.
Goes to the back of the shop, then comes back with bullets and a quality-looking wooden case.
“This is the item you ordered. Please inspect it.”
I open the box. Inside—sawed-off double-barrel shotgun.
Repaired, refined, and gorgeous.
“I also made a holster. Complimentary. Guaranteed to function.”
“How much?”
“Today’s total is 6 million yen.”
Perfect. Just what I looted from the greatshield Demon. Plus the three bodies now decorating the shop.
I load the gear into the car.
Just before I leave—
“Mr. Akamuro.”
I glance back.
Amid the wreckage, Wolfgang stands like a gentleman in a showroom.
“Enjoy the hunt.”
“Thanks.”
I nod and drive.
***
Nighttime
***
7 PM.
I’m in the villa garden, training.
I think about yesterday’s Zero Force. Dragon’s Roar.
My mind’s chasing the edge of that divine flash. That one perfect moment.
“Mew mew mew!” (Hey! Hey you! When did you get so close to Ikaku!?)
What is with this cat!? Help, Ikaku, she’s terrifying!
“Mew mew mew!” (Talking weapons are too full of themselves!)
Lady Ayano pummels the axe with a flurry of paw strikes.
I told her it had a girl’s personality, and now it’s a one-sided cat brawl.
I don’t get her. Probably just bored.
“Mm. Notification.”
Phone buzzes.
Messages from Fuji and Ophelia.
Fuji says he has something for me. Guess his intel is ready.
Ophelia sent a PDF. I open it on the PC.
Cleanly formatted.
It’s the Hidden Flame’s hideouts. Five in Akai City.
There’s also intel on the group’s inner structure—must be from interrogations.
[Mew mew. The ones pulling the strings are called the Will of Homura. Each of the five executives runs a separate hideout.]
“Five execs.”
[Total numbers: 32 humans, 8 demons. The boss here was Imito Kurenaigi. The tortured guy only knew his own base—no intel on the others.]
“Breaking a madman’s silence? Impressive work.”
[The Luxors are born for battle. Even nobles can’t withstand their magic.]
Lady Ayano’s at the typewriter, giving a flick of her regal whiskers.
“So if we multiply that... five times the base numbers. Around 160 humans, 40 demons.”
Rough math. Might not include low-level grunts. But I get the picture.
Clack clack clack clack.
Clack clack clack clack clack.
Clack clack clack—ding.
She’s got her ears up. Serious expression.
[Ikaku. We’ve found their strongholds. Reika, Ouka, and Yukino are in one of them. And the stolen Relics too. The Dragon. Our clan’s treasure. Everything’s there. Take it all back.]
“Orders received.”
“Mew!”
I get in the car. Start the engine, then pause.
I roll down the window and hold out my hand. Axey flies straight into my grip.
It’s time for a blood reckoning.