The ground groaned.
Smoke coiled around the glowing altar, its runes now bleeding darkness into the night. The four warriors—Gyomei, Sanemi, Akaza, and Kokushibo—stood still, barely recovered from the Death Knight, each instinct screaming in unison:
"This isn't over."
And then—
It stepped out.
Tall. Broad. Familiar.Clad in scraps of green armor, burned and fused into hellflesh.One shoulder held the battered sigil of a long-lost Slayer mark, twisted into something mocking.A jagged warhammer, etched in glowing red runes, pulsed with hell energy at its side.
Its eyes—feral and hateful—burned like coals.
The Marauder had come.
Recognition and Fear
Sanemi gasped, stepping back.
"Is that… Slayer armor?"
"No," Kokushibo said grimly. "It was. This one is not him. This… is a shadow of what he is."
Gyomei raised his flail, whispering a prayer.
"He was one of them… once."
The Marauder snarled, its voice echoing like blades grinding together.
"You protect the weak now... Slayer?"
But before the twisted warrior could lift its hammer—
The sky cracked.
BOOM.
The ground shook.
HE was here.
The Doom Slayer descended in silence—boots hitting the dirt with the force of an avalanche. Smoke hissed around him.
The Marauder stopped.
Even with demonic instincts, even with all its corruption—It stepped back. A tremor of fear leaking through its posture.
The Shield Saw extended from the Slayer's gauntlet with a vicious hum, rotating in a whirl of teeth.
FWOOOOOMMM.
His other hand clicked the Super Shotgun into place.His visor reflected the Marauder's form—green facing green.What the Marauder had become.What the Slayer had refused to be.
The Marauder charged.
CLANG!The warhammer came down with the might of a mountain.
The Slayer raised his energy shield, blocking it with a thundering impact that sent a shockwave across the ruins.
"RAAAGHHH!!" the Marauder roared, going for a second swing.
But the Slayer stepped in—cold, methodical, surgical.
His Shield Saw drove forward—SLAMMED straight into the Marauder's side.Steel tore through muscle. Sparks and blood flew. The rotating teeth screamed as they dug into the chest cavity.
The Marauder shrieked.
"NGGHHAAA—!"
The Slayer grabbed it by the helm and smashed his shotgun into its gut—point-blank blast, BOOM—sending the corrupted Slayer skidding back.
It tried to rise.
The Slayer charged.
Dash. Shotgun. Grapple. Saw. Fist. Bash. Blast.Each move precise. Brutal. Unrelenting.
The Marauder swung again, but now desperate.
The Slayer caught the arm—cracked it at the elbow, reversed his saw and sliced the warhammer's haft in half, then lodged the shield into the thing's throat—ripping it out the back.
"This is what awaits you all," the Slayer growled—For the first time, everyone heard him speak clearly, voice like rusted metal and broken wrath.
The Marauder collapsed, trembling, trying to crawl away.
But the Slayer walked calmly, placed his boot on its chest, and activated the Doomblade.
One clean strike.
THHRRRRACKKK!!
Head. Gone.
Arm. Gone.
Chest cavity—cleaved open.
Nothing remained but piles of armor, meat, and a burning sigil.
The rune circle behind them crumbled, the gateway destabilized.
Silence returned.
Gyomei fell to his knees, exhausted.Sanemi, stunned, whispered:
"...He fought like us. No—worse. That thing… was once like him."
Kokushibo stood beside the Slayer, gazing down at the corpse.
"So even Hell feared you enough to twist your own kin," he muttered.
The Slayer looked forward.
"More will come."
He walked past them.
"Train harder."