"Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da—!!!"
The roar of the Gatling gun echoed endlessly through the battlefield. Its barrels spun with a terrifying velocity, spewing out a barrage of bullets like a steel storm. Thousands—no, tens of thousands—of rounds per minute tore through the air, each one slamming into the ground with enough force to leave craters over ten centimeters wide.
Sid barely had time to react. In a flash, he channeled his magic into his sword and slashed down at the earth, carving a shallow trench. Dust and dirt flew up, forming a temporary shield as he dove into the ditch.
He gritted his teeth, mind reeling. This can't be wrong.
Only someone with an intense, pathological fear of insufficient firepower—someone obsessed with overkill—would attack with such unrelenting ferocity.
There was no doubt about it now.
"This guy… he must've been a damn flower farmer before he reincarnated!" Sid spat.
The thought wasn't even meant as a joke. Only a former citizen of the Flower Country—a euphemism for a place obsessed with excessive firepower in Sid's past world—would be this maniacal about weaponry.
And this barrage… It had been going on for minutes. Minutes! The firepower had not diminished for even a second.
"Hey! Your bullets are endless or what?!" Sid shouted in disbelief, half laughing and half raging. "You cheating bastard, are you using an unlimited ammo mod or something?!"
The infernal "Fire Snake" hadn't stopped once since the assault began. It chased him with relentless precision, making it feel like he was being hunted by a living weapon. Where the hell was this guy getting so many bullets from?
And—wait a minute—shouldn't this thing be overheating by now?!
"Of course I don't have infinite bullets," Alhaitham replied with a smirk as he stepped through the smoke, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "But don't worry. In battle, I don't skimp on supplies. I'm well-stocked."
With a flick of his hand, he showed off the [Space Magic] glyphs etched into his glove.
Thanks to his mastery of space magic, Alhaitham had effectively turned himself into a mobile armory. He carried enough ammunition to wage a small war—100,000 rounds minimum whenever he left the house.
Don't ask why. There was no cure for his obsessive fear of lacking firepower. That fear was branded into his soul—it remained even after reincarnation.
And as for his weapon, the "Oliha Gang" Gatling gun—it was forged with materials harder than the toughest titanium alloys of his previous world. Even after firing for over thirty minutes straight, it still hadn't overheated.
Sid stared in disbelief. "This… This is nuts! You're telling me you can just make weapons like this?!"
"Well," Alhaitham replied, "only I can use them. I make them during my downtime for fun. Just hobby projects, you know?"
"You're insane. That thing is extraordinary!" Sid snapped.
"I'm not trying to walk the arrogant path of a king, unlike some people. The prince's faction has their hands full with all their grand speeches. Me? I prefer overwhelming firepower."
He smiled again, mischievous and slightly mad.
"These magic weapons? Agnes and Eta help me craft them. We make all kinds of toys."
Sid ground his teeth. "Damn it… Damn it all!"
He was backed into a corner. He could feel the burning shame of being forced onto the defensive. No—he refused to accept defeat. Only those who dared to risk it all could achieve victory.
So he made a choice.
With a wild shout, "UOOOOOH!!!" Sid emerged from the trench. His slime suit pulsed and transformed, forming two long, curved swords in each hand. The protective layer of the suit thinned, covering only his vital areas—he had reallocated his magic entirely for offense.
He charged like a storm, twin blades slicing through the hail of bullets. Each strike deflected, shattered, or bounced back the flying metal.
It was a fierce, heroic charge. A warrior's last stand.
But… it wasn't smart.
"Da-da-da-da-da!"
Alhaitham calmly aimed at Sid's feet.
The moment his boots hit uneven ground—riddled with new bullet craters—Sid stumbled. His advance was cut short.
"Restrictions lifted—Tactical Smash!"
Alhaitham's right arm hummed with power. The chainsaw sword he wielded roared to life, spinning with blinding speed. Sid barely managed to raise one of his slime swords in time to block.
CRUNCH—!!!
The blade screeched, vibrated… then shattered. Alhaitham had poured so much magic into his chainsaw that its rotation exceeded three thousand revolutions per minute.
The slime sword couldn't withstand that level of force.
Now, Alhaitham's chainsaw blade hovered mere centimeters from Sid's neck.
Sid froze.
That was it. His gamble had failed. In this ideological duel, this clash of visions, Alhaitham had emerged victorious.
"I won," Alhaitham declared.
"…Yeah," Sid muttered, teeth clenched. "I lost. Aaaaaaagh—!!!"
He let out a scream of frustration—not from pain, but from pride.
To lose was one thing. But to lose like this… He could no longer call himself a true "Shadow" warrior. He'd been outclassed, outgunned, and outmaneuvered.
He could cheat. Sure, he could pull some underhanded trick. But what good would that do?
If he broke the rules now, he'd lose the one thing he still had—his pride.
His pride as a person who walks in the shadow.
Glaring at Alhaitham, Sid sighed.
There was no hatred between them. No grudge. This had simply been a duel between ideals.
But—
"I still have one last sword left," Sid said.
"You're going to cheat after all?" Alhaitham asked, eyebrow raised.
"…I want to," Sid admitted. "But no—I'm not going to cheat. I just want to swing it. One final sword. My strongest, final blow. As a man of the shadows."
Alhaitham paused.
"…Very well. This prince permits it."
He lowered his weapon and stepped back.
It was rare to find such an opponent.
He was genuinely curious to witness Sid's strongest blow—the embodiment of everything he believed in.
The two backed away ten meters.
Sid's body radiated magical pressure. Dark energy surged around him. His slime sword began to glow, so intensely that it outshone the surrounding sunlight.
"To the first and strongest enemy I've ever faced," Sid said solemnly. "I give my utmost respect. And now… I dedicate my final, most powerful blow to you."
Though he appeared as an ordinary man, the truth was different. Sid, the "Shadow," was the mastermind behind the scenes. And now, he would show the power that dwelled in the darkness.
The atmosphere vibrated.
Magic gathered like a vortex.
A pitch-black sword—now transformed into a blade of blinding light—hovered before him.
Alhaitham smiled.
"Let's do this properly," he said. "Let us both declare our names—our true names. The names that carry our ideals."
"Yes!" Sid grinned, his eyes wild with resolve. "I am the Shadow. Lurking in the shadow. Hunting the shadow. Witness it now—my strongest blow: I AM ATOMIC!"
"Wonderful! This is pure ecstasy! I'm absolutely thrilled tonight!" Alhaitham roared, throwing his arms wide. "Come! Hit me with everything you've got! My name is Alhaitham! I am the one who will conquer, destroy, and recreate the world!"
As the two clashed in spirit, the battlefield trembled.
Magic flared.
The colors of the world dimmed in comparison to the brilliance between them.
Alhaitham watched, wide-eyed, as Sid's energy built to its peak. He could not look away. He loved moments like these—when rationality gave way to passion. When ideals condensed into something beautiful.
When humans became stupid and magnificent at the same time.
It was the kind of brilliance that made the world worth watching.
"So be it!" Alhaitham shouted. "Then let me show you what I've got too! Watch closely… I am the strongest!"
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