Utaha was helpless, knowing full well that opposition was futile.
She changed into dark clothes and pants suitable for movement, threw on a coat, and used a scarf to cover the lower half of her face, especially those faintly visible eyes.
She called a taxi through a mobile app. When she gave the address located in a shadowed corner of the city, the driver cast a searching glance through the rearview mirror but ultimately remained silent in the face of the doubled fare.
The taxi traveled along increasingly desolate roads, finally stopping at the edge of an abandoned warehouse district.
After paying and getting out, Utaha approached the target warehouse quickly, like a ghost blending into the night.
The rusted wire fence around the warehouse was practically useless, but two burly guards with alert eyes stood at the entrance, their waistlines bulging—clearly carrying weapons.
"Halt! Who is it? No entry here."
"Tsk, just small fry guarding the gate."
Sukuna didn't even use his Cursed Technique. He controlled Utaha's body, quietly approaching with speed far exceeding a normal person and silent steps.
Before the two guards could react, two invisible hands lunged out like vipers, accurately seizing their throats.
With a slight twist, the faint sound of bones snapping was drowned out by the wind. The two guards slumped to the ground, the life in their eyes instantly extinguished.
Sukuna didn't even look at the corpses on the ground as he pushed open the heavy iron doors of the warehouse.
The door hinges let out a piercing screech that echoed through the empty warehouse, instantly shattering the internal commotion.
The scene inside the warehouse was staggering: the space originally meant for storing goods had been converted into a temporary armory and gathering place.
Dozens of yakuza members in black suits or casual wear, with fierce looks in their eyes, were drinking and playing cards in groups.
The air was thick with the pungent smell of alcohol, sweat, and gunpowder.
More notably, almost every one of them held a handgun, and several assault rifles could even be seen leaning casually against the walls.
Sukuna's intrusion was like a giant stone thrown into a pond, causing a massive stir.
"Who's there?!"
"Enemy attack!"
After a brief moment of shock, these well-trained gang members reacted immediately. Those nearby drew their guns and fired without hesitation.
For a moment, gunfire erupted throughout the warehouse.
Bang! Bang...
Bullets poured toward the 'girl' standing at the door like a torrential rain.
"Guns?"
A trace of genuine surprise appeared on Utaha's face as Sukuna controlled it, his four crimson pupils narrowing slightly.
"In this era where everyone is scared witless by the Gun Devil and even firearms are strictly controlled, a mere gang can actually possess such a scale of standardized firearms? Interesting, more and more interesting."
Surprise aside, his movements didn't pause for a second. Facing the whistling bullets, Sukuna didn't even move his feet.
With a thought, countless fine, invisible, yet incredibly sharp slashes erupted from him as the center, bursting in all directions.
The bullets were accurately sliced in half by the invisible blades several feet away from Utaha's body, turning into two pieces of hot metal that clattered to the floor.
The gang members who were firing met an even more terrifying fate. Their arms, torsos, and heads were as if thrown into an invisible meat grinder, being cut and decomposed amidst shrill screams and spraying blood mist. Severed limbs and remains flew everywhere, and blood instantly stained the floor and walls red.
Sukuna walked forward as if taking a leisurely stroll, and everywhere he passed became a hell of flesh and blood.
He wasn't killing aimlessly, he was enjoying the slaughter while operating his newly acquired Soul Devouring talent.
For every soul killed, a weak but pure stream of life energy and negative emotion was extracted and merged into Sukuna's body. Although the quality of these ordinary souls was poor, their quantity was significant. As they accumulated, they provided his damaged soul with a subtle sense of nourishing pleasure.
"The taste is bland, like chewing wax... but at least the quantity is sufficient." Sukuna savored the feeling as his offensive became increasingly fierce.
The gang members' counterattacks were futile. Modern firearms appeared pale and powerless before absolute strength and an eerie Cursed Technique.
...
In the deepest part of the warehouse, inside a reinforced office, the boss—a middle-aged man with a scar on his face and fierce eyes—watched the one-sided slaughter through a surveillance screen.
He was shaking with rage, slamming the walkie-talkie in his hand violently to the floor.
"Useless! A bunch of useless trash! All those guns and you can't stop one person?! Get in there! Pile on her until she's dead!" He roared at the personal guards beside him.
However, the elite subordinates he sent out were unable to even slow the opponent's pace.
In the surveillance footage, that black-haired girl was like the God of Death descending. With a wave of her hand, several lives were extinguished, her movements elegant yet cruel.
"A devil... it must be the power of a devil!"
The boss turned abruptly and rushed to an eerie altar hidden by a black cloth in the corner of the office.
On the altar lay rotting organs, congealed blood, and a twisted, hideous statue seemingly pieced together from countless severed limbs—the very symbol of the Zombie Devil.
"Great Zombie Devil! According to our contract, I offer these sacrifices! Please descend with your power and annihilate the invading enemy!"
The boss knelt before the altar, sliced his palm with a dagger, smeared the blood onto the statue, and prayed at the top of his lungs.
The eyes of the statue on the altar suddenly lit up with a ghastly green light. An extremely thick aura of rot and death instantly filled the air.
Simultaneously, a rumbling sound came from beneath the warehouse as the ground cracked open.
Highly decomposed or incomplete zombies crawled out as if from hell, roaring and staggering toward Sukuna from all directions. There were hundreds, even thousands, instantly filling more than half of the warehouse space.