David Black stood over the fallen knights, their glowing swords bent and useless at his feet. The purple sky stretched endlessly, but he barely glanced at it. His AK-47 was still warm in his hands, every bullet a testament to efficiency.
A soft chime of celestial light drew his attention. High above, angels hovered, their wings spreading wide as streams of ethereal energy reached down. Each fallen demon, each knight corrupted by magic, was gently lifted by invisible hands of light. Souls and lingering demonic energy were drawn upward, purified in a glowing column that vanished into the sky.
David raised an eyebrow. "Finally, someone doing their job properly."
From behind a broken banner, a wiry demon scrambled out. David's finger twitched, ready.
"Oh, don't shoot him!" a voice called out.
A woman stepped into view, robes fluttering, staff in hand. Her silver hair and amber eyes glinted in the sunlight. She didn't look afraid—just nervous.
"You're David Black?" she asked cautiously.
"Depends," he replied, cocking the AK. "Are you about to attack me with magic?"
"No!" she said quickly. "I'm… an ally. My name is Lyra. I've been sent to guide you."
David smirked faintly. "Guide me, huh? Let me guess—you're one of those spell-slinging types who thinks chanting changes reality."
Lyra flinched, but David was already scanning the horizon. "Magic doesn't work on me. Only bullets, steel, and proper tactics."
She hesitated, then nodded. "I… see. The Demon King will send stronger forces. But first… a succubus is ahead. She's… seductive and deadly. Illusions, curses, magic—"
David held up a hand. "I don't believe in magic. Whatever she tries won't touch me. If she's committing wrongdoing, she gets dealt with. The angels up there will collect her soul if she dies, purifying her for the next life."
Lyra's eyes widened. "You… actually trust them to do that?"
David shrugged. "Efficiency requires cooperation. I handle the threats; they handle the cleanup. Simple."
A rustle in the grass announced her arrival. Black wings flickered as a succubus stepped forward, smiling wickedly. Her aura twisted the air, her eyes glowing, her presence seductive.
"So… this is the famous David Black," she purred. "I can make you mine before you even fire a bullet."
David sighed. "I don't believe in magic."
The succubus blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"
"I said: I don't believe in magic. Your spells, charms, and illusions are irrelevant. Only lead and steel matter. You've sinned—attacked innocents. The angels will deal with your soul if you fall. My job is to make that happen."
Her laughter twisted into rage. She slashed, clawed, and tried her illusions. David moved with calm precision—catching her arm, flipping her over his shoulder, and slamming her into the ground.
"You've misused your powers," he said, voice flat. "Time for correction."
He raised the AK-47, firing with methodical grace. Bullets shredded the illusions around her, and she fell screaming. David didn't watch. Instead, he focused on the next wave of low demons approaching from the distance.
Above, the angels glided down silently, collecting her essence and the residual magic from the battlefield. Streams of purifying light lifted the corrupted energy, spiraling into the sky. Lyra watched in awe.
David reloaded. "Efficiency, honor, and proper disposal. This is civilization."
Lyra shook her head, still trying to process the scale of his overpowered brutality. "I… don't know if anyone else could survive following your methods…"
David adjusted his gloves, AK at the ready. "Then consider me the standard."
As they advanced toward the distant black tower, the angels continued their work above, sweeping up demon souls like diligent janitors. David didn't care. Lead, steel, and strategy were the only truths he needed. And if anything or anyone stood in his way? They would end up in the angels' hands, purified—or reborn as a demon if they failed.