At the very moment the demons reveled in Desmon's flesh, a bone-chilling sound tore through the air. It wasn't just a roar—it was a mechanical, murderous howl, as if something had awakened from the depths of a steel-and-blood inferno.
BRRRRR- BRRRRR- BRRRRR
The sound expanded with overwhelming violence. And then, it happened.
In a fraction of a second, the demons' flesh was shredded to pieces. Viscera, bones, and fragments of exoskeleton were sent flying in all directions, painting the road in a sickening blend of red and black with the Kragnaliths' putrid blood. Severed limbs hit the ground, and some bodies still convulsed, desperately clinging to life in their final moments.
The surviving demons immediately recoiled.
The Kragnaliths did not fear death; they sought it, inflicted it with insatiable hunger. And yet, in this moment, their survival instincts screamed at them to retreat if they wished to avoid becoming nothing but meat and entrails.
But...
RHHHRYYYYAAAAHHH!!
One of them didn't make it.
Its scream echoed like an infernal wail as something pierced through it. A spinning sawblade, black as death and stained with deep crimson, sank into its skull. That saw didn't just cut—it ground it down.
The vibrations of the blade tearing through its flesh sent shockwaves through its body. Its exoskeleton gave way, its brain reduced to pulp. Pieces of its jaw broke off, its eyeballs burst from the pressure. And as the blade spun deeper and deeper, a torrent of blood and gray matter exploded to the sides like a grotesque fountain of death.
Hrrgh… Ghhhrrr…!!!
The demon tried to let out one last sound, but its throat was torn apart before it could even finish. Its body was split in two, but not with the clean precision of a sharp blade.
No.
It was a brutal, merciless rending.
Flesh ripped into ragged shreds. Muscles tore apart like rotting fibers. Its mangled entrails spilled onto the ground like the remains of an animal suffering a slow, agonizing death at the hands of its predator.
The Kragnaliths that had retreated regrouped, their eyes locked onto the demon hunter responsible for the massacre.
Desmon stood atop the growing pool of blood beneath his feet. Moments ago, his body had been nothing but a mass of torn flesh, exposed bone, and punctured organs. Now, it was as if he had never been wounded. His regeneration was as monstrous as his power of destruction.
But that wasn't what terrified them.
No.
It was his arms.
Or rather… what was left of them.
Two colossal sawblades spun with unrelenting fury where his limbs had once been. He wasn't holding them. He wasn't controlling them with sheer strength.
The saws were his arms.
They fused with his body through a system of gears and metal joints. Dark cables, resembling artificial nerves, wove into his flesh, feeding on his blood and demonic energy like insatiable parasites. (Visual reference to Benizakura from Gintama)
And the most terrifying truth of all…
Those weapons were killing him.
Every second they spun, they tore away fragments of his flesh. They crushed his bones. They ravaged his muscles from within. But Desmon's regeneration was so absurdly powerful that the damage didn't matter.
An endless cycle of destruction and regeneration.
But the question was:
When had he acquired such power?
The answer lay in the day he arrived in Japan.
For this was the true form of Kurox, Desmon's devil arm. A weapon of monstrous capability and power.
In its first form, it was nothing more than an impossibly durable, absurdly fast motorcycle. But in its second form—Rox—the motorcycle split in two and fused with his arms, transforming its wheels into sawblades, designed to tear through anything in his path.
A power as immense as it was destructive—one Desmon had never been able to fully unleash. He had never met the conditions.
But that no longer mattered.
Because in his current demonic state… he was nothing more than a beast.
A monster whose sole purpose was to annihilate everything in his way.
VRRRRR- VRRRRR- VRRRRR
The saws roared once more, spinning with an ever-growing violence. The sound was inhuman—a mechanical howl, the wail of a machine starving for flesh and death.
The devil arm understood its master.
He wanted to kill.
He needed to kill.
Desmon lifted his gaze. His eyes reflected no rage, no hatred, not even a murderous fury.
Just absolute indifference.
And in that instant, the Kragnalith understood.
They weren't facing prey.
They were facing a hunter.
He may look human, but Desmon is a demon—an undeniable truth. A demon that will obliterate everything in his path, whether they're other demons or someone he once knew.
KRIIIK... KRRRSH... KCHHHH!
Without waiting for the demon hunter to make his move, the Kragnalith launched their attack in perfect unison.
Numbers always overwhelm a lone opponent. It's a universal law. But against Rox, the dumbest thing one could do was attack in a group.
A short-range weapon? Ha…
The demons lunged at Desmon, confident in their numerical superiority. Except…
… the first of them never even saw it coming.
With a neutral expression, Desmon raised his arm and pointed forward. His saw, thirsting for flesh, roared to life with insatiable fury, growling like a demon eager to devour its prey.
The moment the distance shrank to nothing, Desmon's saw was launched like a hellish projectile, propelled by crushing force.
In slow motion, the first demon's face met the spinning blade head-on. Flesh and exoskeleton gave way, shredded and torn apart without mercy. There was no resistance, no chance to react.
The whirling blade didn't stop. It tore through the first demon like butter and kept going, piercing those behind him. One after another, their bodies were split apart, reduced to little more than pulsing chunks of meat.
It was hell unleashed.
In the blink of an eye, several Kragnalith were cut to pieces before they even realized they were dead. This wasn't a battle. It wasn't even a hunt.
It was a slaughter.
Desmon moved his arm, and the chain connected to the saw retracted, pulling it back to him. On its way, the spinning blade claimed even more lives, shredding bodies and leaving behind a trail of blood and carnage.
A single motion, and the enemy formation was reduced to living wreckage.
Now, they were easy prey.
Desmon said nothing, but the violently spinning saws seemed to whisper:
"My turn."
Like a beast drunk on bloodlust, he surged forward, slicing through the Kragnalith with every step. Mutilated remains were flung through the air, scattered like worthless debris.
There was no mercy. No compassion.
Just a demon tearing through others.
The Kragnalith fought back with everything they had, desperately trying to kill him.
It didn't matter.
Every attack was met with a slash. Every move answered with a massacre. Rox didn't cut. Rox shredded. Everything its saws touched was reduced to a mangled mess of flesh and ruin.
A devil arm that devours enormous amounts of demonic energy, flesh, and blood from its wielder—such a weapon had to prove at least one thing:
Power enough to pierce through anything.
No one should expect a quick or painless death. Rox didn't allow that. Even after death, the bodies seemed to writhe as if refusing to accept their fate.
This was Rox—a demon that had once slaughtered and consumed hundreds before being subdued by Desmon. A monster that had never bowed to anyone… until it was effortlessly defeated by a young demon hunter.
The Kragnalith's numbers dwindled at an absurd speed. This was no longer a battle. Not even a hunt.
It was a one-sided massacre.
Exoskeletons shattered like brittle glass. The demons' shrieks filled the air, some cut off before they could even escape their throats. Others never even realized they were dead.
Kragnalith blood drenched Desmon, coating him until he looked like a demon bathed in gore.
Because, after all, that's exactly what he was.
With one saw buried in a demon's exoskeleton and the other lodged deep in another's back, Desmon finally set his sights on the last surviving Kragnalith.
Out of nearly a hundred demons, only one remained.
The Kragnalith tank—a heavily armored beast of immense strength and endurance. But now, just a lone survivor.
The Kragnalith felt the sheer murderous pressure radiating from Desmon. Its survival instincts kicked in.
It turned around...
And ran.
It didn't matter that its comrades had been annihilated. As long as one survived, there was hope. The queen was still alive, and its species had a chance to recover over time.
Of course, Desmon would let it escape. After all, he was a good guy, and he wanted the demon to return to its kind and rebuild its species...
Ha! Bullshit.
The Kragnalith shrieked in pain. Something embedded itself in its back, and against its will, it was dragged toward Desmon.
Hrrgh… Hhhk… Ghhhrrr…!!!
The demon's legs and pincers dug into the ground, trying to resist. But it was useless. It was pulled until it lay beneath the towering figure of the demon hunter.
And then, without a word, Desmon raised his saw and brought it down on the demon's skull.
Rox wasn't spinning. Not yet.
It was a blunt, direct, brutal strike. A hellish weapon against an exoskeleton built to endure.
Each hit landed harder than the last, every crack in the exoskeleton spreading wider and wider. The demon thrashed, shrieked, struggled to break free—but it was impossible. The fissure deepened. There was no escape.
Second by second, the punishment continued. The crack widened, as if it was about to give way at any moment.
The Kragnalith barely moved now. Maybe it had accepted its fate, or maybe its brain was too rattled from the blows to process what was happening.
It didn't matter.
Its fate was sealed.
The strikes kept coming until, finally, the exoskeleton shattered, exposing the pulsating gray matter within.
Desmon lifted the saw one last time.
And in that moment, Rox began to spin.
The saw turned the Kragnalith's skull into a slurry of brains. The creature was already dead, yet even in death, its body seemed to tremble in agony.
When the saw finally stopped, Desmon pulled Rox free from the deformed mass that remained of the demon.
With that… silence fell over the area.
The road was nothing more than a slaughterhouse now, drenched in blood, viscera, and the corpses of demons that slowly began to fade away.
...
From a safe distance, a small blue jellyfish had been watching the fight ever since Desmon unleashed his demonic energy, as if drawn to it.
A demon? Maybe…
Though the correct term would be something that belonged to someone else—someone who, in another city, sat in a lavish room adorned with extravagant furniture, sipping a cup of tea in quiet amusement.
"I must admit, that was a surprise." The person said, watching the massive screen. "But the Kragnalith queen won't just sit idly by after its offspring have been slaughtered."
She took a sip of tea and set the cup down on the table.
"If I remember correctly..." Placing a finger against her lips, as if deep in thought. "The queen is classified as a catastrophe due to its sheer size and the destruction it causes when it emerges from its lair."
She flipped through a book containing information on these demons—creatures once considered nothing more than myths.
Meanwhile, where Desmon stood, the ground began to tremble violently—an earthquake, as if the earth itself were splitting apart.
"This time, I'll do you a favor. Perhaps you'll be of use to me later."
With a knowing smile, she channeled her energy through the jellyfish, which floated higher.
In response, the jellyfish radiated immense energy, deploying a massive barrier that enveloped both Desmon and the emerging Kragnalith queen.
Barriers have two functions: the most common is to act as a shield against attacks. The second, pulls targets into a separate plane of existence—an exact replica of their current location.
As the barrier was activated, Asako, who had been struggling to stand amid the earthquake, suddenly noticed something odd. The earth-shaking chaos that had felt like the end of the world came to an abrupt halt.
And when she looked up—Desmon was gone.
The blood, the viscera, the corpses of demons—vanished.
As if everything she had just witnessed had been nothing more than an illusion.
"Huh?"
Once she managed to stand, Asako cautiously walked around the area. No matter how many times she checked, there was no trace of what she had seen.
"Did I really just imagine all that?"
She kept investigating, but nothing in the surroundings changed.
Meanwhile, inside the barrier, as Asako continued her search, the earthquake only grew more intense. Massive fissures tore through the ground, signaling that something colossal was about to emerge.
Desmon remained calm, waiting for whatever was about to rise from the depths, while Rox was already prepared to tear its next opponent apart.
Within seconds, the ground split open entirely. Enormous legs emerged from the chasm, and soon, Desmon's final adversary revealed itself.
The Queen of the Kragnalith—a demon no one would ever want to encounter. Standing nearly 40 feet tall, it was a living mountain of pure terror, its dark, spiked exoskeleton so tough that even the tank-class Kragnalith paled in comparison. A living fortress—impenetrable, indestructible from the outside.
Its head was a monstrosity. It had no real face, only a collection of glowing red eyes embedded across its carapace, watching in all directions.
Its legs were gargantuan, true titan-like limbs that pierced the earth with every step. But they were not just legs—they were weapons, lined with razor-sharp spines and grotesque, oozing protrusions that secreted a dark substance, corrupting everything it touched. Then there were its massive pincers, built to crush, to obliterate, to erase all in their grasp. If there had ever been a thriving land, the Queen's mere passage alone would be enough to reduce it to a dead, rotting wasteland.
The Queen of the Kragnalith was not just another demon. It was not something that could be sealed with a ritual or defeated with an army. It was a plague with a will of its own—a force of destruction that consumed, devoured, and assimilated everything in its path. Where it appeared, it did not leave ruins—only a void of despair where life once existed.
That was why it was classified as a natural disaster.
But… the most astonishing thing was that the barrier had managed to trap it inside with Desmon. Which begged the question—what kind of power did the one who created this possess?
Or perhaps, these types of barriers were easier to create than they seemed, and the real challenge lay in acquiring the knowledge to do so.
For some demons, it came naturally. But for humans… it was an almost impossible task.
The saws on Desmon's arms roared to life, thirsting for blood, eager to tear through the monstrous demon before him.
And with Desmon just as eager to claim his prey, he launched himself forward, propelling off the ground with a powerful leap.
At the height of the Kragnalith Queen, he didn't hesitate for a second—he struck with both saws.
Rox, a devil arm of monstrous destructive power, capable of tearing through anything in its path.
Or rather… anything weaker than the devil arm itself.
KRRRSH!!!
The Kragnalith Queen roared in fury, intercepting Desmon with one of its massive pincers, a deafening clash echoing upon impact.
The outcome was swift—Desmon was sent flying, crashing violently into the ground.
On the Queen's pincer, faint scratches remained where Rox had struck. But that was all—mere scratches.
It was classified as a natural disaster for a reason. Stronger, tougher, deadlier. After all, among demons capable of becoming queens, this one, in particular, was a mutation of its species.
And yet, from the ground, from the fissure caused by his crash, Desmon sprang back to his feet in a single motion.
Only now…
That calm, stoic expression was gone, replaced by a sinister grin—like he had finally found a worthy opponent to destroy.
His saws revved with anticipation. Because this was not an enemy that would die so easily.