Death Guns In Another World Chapter 1845 1635: Gun-Kata Mode

On his way back to his floating fortress, Alex received a report of unusual activity in a nearby village. Upon his arrival, he found the village cast in a gloomy atmosphere. A quick stop at the adventurers' guild inford him that several villagers had recently gone missing. The source of these disappearances had been traced to the underworld—a group of dark mages, hoping to gain favor with the Chaos organization, was behind it all.

As night fell, Alex donned his black cloak and slipped into the shadows, disappearing as he made his way toward the enemy's hidden base.

Arriving like a shadow, Alex slipped silently into the enemy's stronghold.

With a flick of his hand, he summoned his silver gun, Silveria, its polished surface gleaming faintly even in the dark. Concentrating for a mont, he activated Xerox, creating an exact duplicate in his other hand.

"Ti for so fun!"

Ard with his twin guns, he moved forward, rging with the shadows, each step calculated, deadly.

He entered the main hall where several dark mages patrolled, their auras crackling with dark energy. They noticed him too late—a blur of motion with only the gleam of silver revealing his presence. The mages unleashed spells, fiery bolts and shadowy tendrils streaking toward him. Alex dodged with precise, fluid movents, slipping between the spells as if anticipating them before they were cast.

With lightning speed, he raised both guns, firing in controlled, rhythmic bursts. His bullets, enchanted with binding runes from the homing skill, cut through the air like silver streaks, each finding its mark with brutal accuracy. The first mage crumpled, struck mid-incantation. Alex spun, firing again. The second mage went down, his spell dying on his lips.

Another wave of dark mages poured into the hall, forming a tight circle around him, weapons and spells at the ready. Alex lowered his guns, taking a steadying breath, then burst into action. His movents were almost too fast to follow—each twist, each dodge, calculated to evade their attacks by re inches. In perfect synchronization, he fired, each shot precise, each bullet connecting with ruthless efficiency.

One mage charged him from behind, brandishing a dark blade. Without breaking stride, Alex whirled, his cloak billowing as he spun, firing a shot that sent the attacker sprawling back. He dove forward, rolling into the crowd, his guns never stopping. Shots erupted like a trono, tid perfectly to his calculated, fluid steps. He wove between his enemies, never in one place long enough for them to target him.

The hall fell silent for a mont as Alex took down the last mage in a whirlwind of motion. He stood amidst the chaos, guns still raised, smoke curling from the barrels. The few remaining mages hesitated, fear flashing in their eyes. They unleashed a desperate barrage of spells, but Alex moved like water, his body twisting and evading in seamless arcs as his guns fired in tandem. In monts, they, too, lay defeated.

As silence settled over the hall, Alex lowered his guns, his gaze sweeping over the defeated mages. He flicked his wrists, dismissing the duplicates, and holstered the original with a smooth, practiced motion.

With his original silver gun in hand, Alex moved forward, slipping into gun-ota mode—a heightened state of concentration where his every movent was instinctual, precise, lethal. The dark mages had realized they were under attack, and reinforcents poured in, filling the dimly lit hall with crackling energy and chanting voices. But none could match his speed or his deadly focus. Each pull of the trigger sent another mage to the ground, his steps an unbroken rhythm of annihilation.

Then, as if sensing his approach, the more powerful dark mages erged from the depths of the stronghold. Cloaked in thick, dark robes embroidered with blood-red sigils, they radiated a nacing aura, and the air grew thick with their combined energy. Alex paused only for a heartbeat, assessing the newcors with a practiced eye. He caressed Sil as she chuckled.

"Ti for so special bullets!"

Silveria nodded.

He loaded one—ice—and smirked.

The first mage raised his staff, summoning a wave of fire that roared across the hall. Alex dodged, sidestepping the flas with uncanny precision as he fired the ice bullet.

Bang!

The shot streaked toward the mage, an arc of frost trailing in its wake. It hit, freezing the mage solid mid-cast, the flas extinguished as he shattered into icy shards.

Two others charged at him, their spells gathering energy in their hands. Alex was faster. He loaded a lightning round, feeling the hum of power as he pulled the trigger. The bullet split into crackling bolts of blue energy, tearing through the air and striking both mages simultaneously. Their bodies convulsed as the electricity surged through them, and they fell to the ground, smoke rising from their robes.

But the dark mages kept coming, a small army of them spilling into the hall in a desperate attempt to stop him. Alex moved like a specter of death, his face impassive, his body fluid. He loaded a fire round and fired, releasing a flaming bullet that exploded in a burst of heat, sending a wave of flas over a group of mages who tried to trap him with a barrier spell. They scread as the fire consud them, their dark magic unable to withstand the wrath of his elental rounds.

They attempted to surround him, their spells darkening the air, binding sigils flashing as they tried to trap him in place. But Alex was a storm of death incarnate. He loaded a wind round, the air itself seeming to shudder as he fired, unleashing a swirling vortex that tore through the ranks, scattering them like leaves. He danced between them, a blur of black and silver, each step closer to his enemies' doom.

The leader of the dark mages stepped forward, his aura of power unmistakable, his hands already glowing with dark energy. Alex tilted his head, calmly reloading, this ti with an earth round. The leader's incantation reached its peak, a wave of dark energy surging toward him. Alex fired. The earth bullet struck the ground, erupting into jagged stone spikes that shot up and deflected the incoming spell. With a quick pivot, Alex took another shot, the earth bullet slamming into the leader, encasing him in stone.

One by one, the remaining mages fell, Alex's movents relentless, his aim flawless. He was unstoppable, moving like the very embodint of death, his gun an extension of his will. Finally, as the last mage hit the ground, Alex straightened, his gaze cold and unyielding as he scanned the empty, ruined hall.

In the silence that followed, the last traces of elental energy faded from the air. Alex holstered his gun, his expression unreadable as he turned away, leaving the remnants of the dark mage stronghold in silence, a single shadow against the pale dawn outside.