“Bang bang bang bang bang bang—!”

A flintlock rifle in her right hand, a flintlock pistol in her left—those two guns in Tokisaki Kurumi’s hands could practically be considered antiques from the nineteenth century. Yet they unleashed a barrage of high-speed shots utterly unbefitting their appearance, like a fusion of a machine gun and a shotgun. In an instant, Mengyue’s entire field of vision was swallowed by dense bullet fire.

Mengyue lightly tapped her longbow against the ground. Under magnetic force, endless iron sand surged up from the earth, forming a flowing shield that blocked every bullet.

“Bang! Bang!”
The moment each bullet sank into the iron sand, it was shredded apart—yet bright sparks still burst forth. Mengyue could clearly feel that the impact of each bullet was strong enough to pierce through an armored tank.

If it were a human, they would’ve been shot into a beehive already.

But—

“If this is all you’ve got, then you’re nowhere near enough!”

This barren region contained extremely high amounts of iron sand in its soil. For Mengyue—who could manipulate iron sand as a weapon through electromagnetic force—this place was nothing less than a natural ammunition depot.

Iron sand on the ground continuously gathered into massive whips. They surged forward like crashing waves, vicious as giant serpents, surrounding Kurumi from all directions and tearing toward her while sealing off every escape route.

Yet even in the face of such inescapable doom, Kurumi’s smile did not fade in the slightest. Her lips moved as if reciting an incantation, her voice low and solemn:

“Zafkiel — Aleph.”

The shadow of the clock behind Kurumi filled the chamber of her flintlock pistol.

Under Mengyue’s startled gaze, Kurumi pressed the gun to her own temple and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Before Mengyue could even question whether Kurumi had suddenly gone insane, the Kurumi who had been surrounded by the iron-sand whips blurred like dispersing mist—and instantly appeared right before her, gun barrels aimed straight at her forehead.

Mengyue’s pupils shrank. She hurriedly raised Dawn Sage, the dark-blue bow limbs hooking under the flintlock rifle and pistol, forcing the muzzles upward.

“Bang! Bang!”
Two sharp gunshots grazed past above her.

Mengyue’s expression grew more grim than ever. According to the electromagnetic scan from Dawn Sage, Kurumi had, in that brief moment, displayed an abnormal level of movement speed—passing through the narrow gaps of the iron-sand whips with perfect precision before they fully enclosed her.

Even Yamai, renowned for her wind manipulation, would likely be unable to perform such delicate evasive maneuvers at such extreme speeds.

Of course, Mengyue wasn’t naïve enough to think Kurumi achieved this with her physical abilities alone. It had to be the effect of that angel—the bullets shot from its clock.

“Ah~ hahaha! How delightful! Amazing! To think someone could wield their angel’s power to such a degree—among all the Spirits, I’d say only you, Miss Mengyue, are capable of this.”

You’re literally suppressing me—how is this praise anything but sarcasm, you damn psycho!?

Kurumi pressed the assault, swinging her rifle and pistol like twin blades. They repeatedly clashed against the limbs of Dawn Sage.

Though both guns and bows were ranged weapons, guns had an overwhelming advantage in close combat.

For example, preparation time—though angels didn’t require ammunition or arrows, drawing a bowstring easily took five times longer than pulling a trigger.

On top of that, a pistol could still be used as a close-range distraction. But a bow? Once the enemy got close, it wasn’t even as good as a stick.

“Bang!”
With gunfire brushing past her ears, Mengyue could only sigh helplessly:

In this life, close-quarters combat just isn’t for me!

A wall of iron sand suddenly rose from the ground, forcing Kurumi back. Taking the chance, Mengyue used magnetic force to command countless iron-sand whips to whirl violently toward Kurumi again.

Kurumi twisted through the air, dodging in quick steps, but as the iron-sand whips combined to encircle her once more, the golden clock reappeared behind her—clearly intending to repeat the same trick.

“Ratziel — Turret Mode.”

The grip of the bow retracted into the main body, wrapping around Mengyue’s right hand. The dark-blue lightning-shaped bow limbs merged forward. From a distance, it looked less like a turret and more like a giant pincer.

“Zafkiel — Aleph.”

Once again, Kurumi vanished from the midst of the iron-sand encirclement and reappeared above Mengyue—like mist gathering into shape.

But to Kurumi’s disbelief, Mengyue seemed to have predicted her position perfectly. The moment she appeared, Mengyue raised Dawn Sage and aimed the cannon muzzle directly at her abdomen.

“Railgun!”

The compressed iron-sand slug turned into an orange beam, piercing a massive hole through Kurumi’s stomach.

“W-why…?”

Mengyue didn’t answer. Kurumi had already lost her life before she could finish the question.

Why? The explanation wasn’t complicated. Mengyue had simply left several slightly larger gaps within the ring of iron-sand whips—gaps that were the quickest paths toward her.

Just like how people choosing from pre-cut cake slices naturally lean toward the largest pieces.

Even without fully understanding Kurumi’s angel, Dawn Sage’s scans showed that Kurumi wasn’t teleporting—she was physically moving at high speed to reach Mengyue.

That made things simple. With Dawn Sage’s immense calculation ability, Mengyue created several enticing paths that looked safer and more convenient, leading Kurumi straight into the trap.

Mengyue’s greatest strength wasn’t her hacking skills capable of breaching DEM’s HQ AI, nor the railgun that could pierce Yamai’s storms and destroy top-class wizard Mecha.
It was her ability to always utilize her powers in the most precise places, strategize step by step during battle, and guide others into her traps without their awareness.

The same trick would never work twice on a Sp—on a Spirit.

Gazing at Kurumi’s corpse, cold and lifeless, Mengyue felt not only the nausea of killing for the first time but also a deeper sadness.

Though a Spirit feared by all, Kurumi was still a girl in the prime of her youth.

Spirits possessed immense power, but the price was being treated by humanity as calamities, as monsters—rejected, driven out of human society.

Denied ordinary life, denied normalcy—left only with a bottomless loneliness that gnawed at their hearts until madness.

Perhaps someday, Mengyue herself would also be unable to endure that pain—and walk down the wrong path.

“It’s not good to leave a body exposed in the wilderness like this. I should bury her.”

“Oh my~ Miss Mengyue really is such a kind person.”

A voice that shouldn’t exist sounded behind her. Kurumi—completely unscathed—appeared at Mengyue’s back, pressing her gun against her head.

But before Kurumi expected it, at the exact moment the gun touched Mengyue’s skull, iron sand from the ground formed a blade and sliced off Kurumi’s right hand.

Kurumi didn’t scream, immediately retreating to the sky. She finally understood—on land so rich with iron sand, the entire ground was Mengyue’s domain.

“Zafkiel — Dalet.”

She fired a bullet formed from the clock’s “IV” at herself. The severed hand—which had been cleanly separated by Mengyue—reversed like a rewinding tape and reattached perfectly.

“I see… the power to manipulate time.”

Watching the uncanny reversal of injuries and the earlier impossible evasions—combined with the timepiece-shaped angel—Mengyue instantly understood Kurumi’s ability.

“So you knew I wasn’t dead and acted the whole time, didn’t you?”

Kurumi glared sharply. Mengyue only shrugged.

“DEM’s pursuit records of Nightmare are so full of ‘death reports’ that even I find it ridiculous. I just took precautions. Didn’t expect they’d actually pay off.”

“I see. As expected of Miss Mengyue—your mind really is exceptional. Then as thanks, let me show you something special! Come out—‘all of us.’”

Kurumi elegantly lifted the edge of her skirt and curtsied. From the shadow behind her, copies of Kurumi leapt out one after another—no, they were Tokisaki Kurumi.

Shadow clones…
Alright, Mengyue knew perfectly well this world had nothing to do with Naruto.

“How about it? These are my past selves, my histories, my forms from various timelines. With this ability, you’ll never be able to kill me, Miss Mengyue. So—why not surrender early? I don’t want to hurt you, you know.”

The “Kurumi” copies surrounded Mengyue, rifles raised, voices dripping with temptation.

“Unfortunately, I don’t enjoy being threatened.”

Iron-sand blades surged from around her, lashing at all the Kurumis.

“My, my… acting tough really isn’t wise, Miss Mengyue.”

Kurumi sighed. The clock hands in her left eye spun backward rapidly. Her flintlock pistol aimed at “VII”, and a black shadow-bullet loaded into the chamber.

“Zafkiel — Zayin.”

She pulled the trigger. The black bullet carved a sharp arc toward Mengyue.

Fast, precise, vicious—at that distance, even a Spirit couldn’t evade it. Mengyue struck it away with an iron-sand blade.

But that was pointless. The moment it was touched—

“Heehee… ahahahahaha!”

As Kurumi’s delighted laughter echoed, Mengyue’s body froze completely.

Her limbs, her coat fluttering in the wind, her hair drifting mid-air—even the crackling lightning and swirling iron sand—everything stopped as if frozen in time. The iron sand fell lifelessly to the ground.

“No matter how powerful your strength or how clever your strategies are, once time itself stops, they’re meaningless.”

Kurumi approached the immobilized Mengyue and fired bullets into her limbs, abdomen, and chest.

“Let’s break all your limbs first—that’ll make everything easier… No, wait!”

Kurumi’s expression twisted in shock. The bullets lodged in Mengyue’s body caused no wounds—no blood, not even bullet holes.

As the effect of the Seventh Bullet dissipated, Mengyue’s form gradually faded—leaving behind only scattered iron sand.

What Kurumi shot was only a projected image created via optical refraction.

“What a pity. In the face of time stop, power truly becomes meaningless—but strategy does not.”

Mengyue appeared outside the ring of Kurumi clones. Dawn Sage returned to its bow form, lightning roaring around her, gathering violently at her fingertips on the bowstring.

Eventually, an arrow like a perfect blue-crystal sculpture formed on the string.

Kurumi trembled—no, she was terrified. She could clearly sense the near-apocalyptic power contained in that arrow.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t aimed at you.”
Mengyue drew the bowstring and slowly aimed the arrow toward the sky, a smile tugging at her lips.

If it were merely to shoot Kurumi, a standard railgun shot would’ve sufficed—far less costly. This arrow alone would consume half of her spirit energy.

A flash streaked upward into the sky. In the next moment, dark clouds gathered to blot out the sun, covering the barren land in a desolate, icy darkness—like the end of the world descending.

“Let everything be destroyed—Thunderous Judgment!”

Like the verdict of a god, Kurumi’s world was swallowed by endless lightning.

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