The room seed to freeze as the n stared at the weapons, their collective breath hitching.
Brandon didn't aim at any one person in particular; instead, he pointed them generally in the direction of the group, his movents as casual as if he were brushing lint off his coat.
And then, without warning, he fired.
"Bang!"
The deafening roar of the first shot shattered the tense silence. The recoil barely shifted Brandon's steady hands, a testant to his imnse strength.
One of the n in the line staggered back, clutching his shoulder as blood began to seep through his fingers.
"Shit! He's serious!" soone yelled, panic seeping into their voice.
Brandon didn't wait for a counterattack. He fired again, his expression unchanging beneath the demon mask.
"Bang! Bang!"
The bullets tore through the air, ricocheting off walls and furniture, each shot sowing chaos and confusion.
One man dove for cover behind a nearby couch, his weapon clattering to the floor in his haste. Another scread as a bullet grazed his leg, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Despite being outnumbered, Brandon didn't flinch. If anything, he seed to relish the mayhem, moving with a precision that bordered on chanical.
His towering figure remained rooted in place, a pillar of unshakable confidence amidst the chaos.
The n scrambled to respond, their own guns raised as they shouted orders and curses.
But their shots were hasty, fired in desperation rather than strategy. Brandon was too fast, too deliberate. Each movent he made was calculated, each shot fired with lethal intent.
"You thought numbers would save you?" Brandon growled, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "You don't even know what real power looks like."
His words only added to the rising panic among Kirito's n, the realization dawning on them that this was no ordinary confrontation.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
The explosions from Brandon's Magnums were deafening, each shot echoing like a thunderclap in the enclosed room.
The muzzle flashes briefly illuminated the carnage as Brandon executed his work with chilling precision.
His aim was terrifyingly accurate—headshots, every ti.
Poof!
One man's head burst apart, the grotesque splatter painting the wall behind him in a crimson spray. His body collapsed instantly, the impact shaking the floor.
Another man attempted to retaliate, raising his weapon with trembling hands, but he was too slow.
Bang!
A bullet pierced his skull, cutting his scream short. His eyes rolled back as he fell like a marionette with its strings abruptly severed.
Brandon moved through the chaos with an eerie calm, his sheer size and deliberate movents giving him the presence of an unstoppable juggernaut.
Bullets struck him—one hit his shoulder, another grazed his side—but he barely flinched. His blood seeped through his shirt, but it only served to make him look more monstrous.
The remaining n fired wildly in desperation, their bullets ricocheting off the walls and furniture, but Brandon pressed forward, relentless.
"You're wasting your ti," he growled, his voice low and resonant, cutting through the cacophony of gunfire.
In less than a minute, the ten n were dead.
The room fell silent, save for the faint hiss of smoke curling from the barrels of Brandon's Magnums. The bodies of Kirito's n lay strewn across the floor in grotesque poses, their heads obliterated.
Blood pooled around them, soaking into the expensive carpet.
Brandon straightened, his hulking fra casting a shadow over the carnage. His demon mask, though damaged, still clung to his face, adding an air of nightmarish terror to his already imposing presence.
He turned his attention to the five n near Kirito, his piercing gaze freezing them in place.
Kirito's voice cut through their panic like a whip.
"He's wearing a bulletproof vest! Aim for the head!"
One of the n, a seasoned shooter, reacted imdiately. His gun was up in a fraction of a second, and he fired a single, precise shot.
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Bang!
The bullet struck true, hitting Brandon's mask square in the forehead. The impact left a jagged hole in the grotesque visage, revealing part of Brandon's pale, unflinching face beneath.
The shooter hesitated, disbelief flashing across his features.
Brandon didn't even stagger. He simply tilted his head, his movents unnervingly slow, and stared at the man who had dared to shoot him.
"You're good," Brandon said, his voice as cold and steady as ever. "But not good enough."
With a asured motion, he raised one of his Magnums.
"Nooooo!"
The shooter dove to the side, hoping to evade, but Brandon's finger had already pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The bullet struck mid-dive, tearing through the man's skull. His lifeless body continued its montum, tumbling into a roll that ended behind a sofa.
The grotesque irony of the perfect defensive maneuver perford by a dead man was not lost on anyone.
Thud!
The remaining four n stared in horror, their weapons trembling in their hands.
Brandon's voice broke the silence, low and guttural. "Anyone else?"
The n dropped their guns in unison, their survival instincts overriding their loyalty to Kirito.
"We… we surrender!" one of them stamred, raising his hands high.
"Please, don't kill us!" another begged, his voice cracking.
Brandon's head tilted slightly as he regarded them, the faintest hint of amusent in his deanor.
Then, slowly, he turned to Ross, who sat comfortably in his chair, watching the scene unfold as if it were a theatrical performance.
Ross t Brandon's gaze and gave a slight shake of his head.
Brandon's lips curled into a faint smirk beneath the remnants of his mask. "Understood."
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Four more shots rang out in quick succession. Each one was precise, leaving no room for error. The n dropped one by one, their bodies crumpling to the floor, lifeless.
Now, only Kirito remained.
He stood amidst the carnage, his face pale but resolute. His n—all fifteen of them—lay dead around him, their bodies marking the catastrophic failure of his mission.
Brandon slowly turned his attention to Kirito, his Magnums still smoking.
"Looks like it's just you now."
Kirito clenched his fists, his eyes burning with a mix of fury and desperation.
"You think this is over?" he spat, his voice trembling.
"You'll regret this."
Ross chuckled softly from his seat, leaning back as if enjoying the show. "Oh, Kirito. I think the only one regretting anything tonight… is you."
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