Narrator POV.
He was ready.
The blood sphere that had been floating beside him trembled slightly before sliding in front of him. Isagi clapped sharply and caught it between his palms, compressing it. The crimson mass spun, dense and gleaming, as he pointed forward with his fingers extended.
—Piercing Blood!
The blood, condensed to its limit through convergence, blasted forward from his fingertips with a sonic boom that tore through the air and shoved the wind aside in its wake.
Choso's signature technique—now being used by Isagi.
In less than a second, the jet of blood, sharp as the tip of a spear, closed the distance and nearly pierced the demon's head.
The demon with the many cooked faces widened its eyes in shock. Isagi hadn't calculated the pressure or cursed energy properly; as a result, the technique had surpassed the speed of sound.
The demon barely managed to throw itself backward, completely caught off guard. The condensed blood stream grazed its main face, ripping off part of the flesh and destroying one of its eyes. Dark fragments splattered through the air before dropping heavily to the ground.
A torn, agonized scream burst from its throat.
Meanwhile, Isagi calmly raised his hand. The blood scattered across the ground began to tremble, then move—slithering as if it had a will of its own. It floated back toward him, gathering into a new crimson sphere in front of his palm, while even more blood poured from his hands.
He condensed it again and hardened it into a solid blood spear—sharp and dark—which he threw straight at the demon with a clean, decisive motion.
The Kamo clan's Blood Manipulation was unbelievably versatile. In the hands of someone with Isagi's regeneration, the only limit to that technique was his creativity… and his stamina.
The demon, now completely enraged, caught the spear mid-flight.
—You! How dare you damage my face?! —it roared.
With a single squeeze, it snapped the spear in half; the hardened fragments burst into droplets that evaporated before even touching the ground.
Isagi grinned shamelessly as blood slowly covered his fists like crimson gloves.
—Aw, don't be so dramatic… you had a face not even two mothers could love. —His eyes narrowed slightly. —(I want to increase the probability of Black Flash… so I'll try to land one here.)
Isagi let out a long, controlled breath as he relaxed his shoulders. He needed to enter the "zone."
His stance shifted; he stopped tensing up and allowed his body to find a more natural, fluid balance. At the same time, the vertical lines beneath his eyes began to slowly lengthen, crawling down his face. A new line—thin and precise—appeared over his nose. The markings finished crossing over each other, forming a sharper, more aggressive pattern.
—Flowing Red Scale: Stack.
Energy surged through his body like a burning current. His muscles compressed and expanded at the same time, optimizing every fiber. His breathing became steadier, his pulse more controlled. Isagi had pushed his physical abilities even further—strength, speed, reflexes… everything taken to the limit.
He wanted to test it.
The demon, now consumed by rage and with its mutilated face throbbing with hatred, lunged at him with an inhuman roar. The ground cracked beneath its momentum.
Isagi was already waiting.
His danger sense activated: a faint itch crawled across his skin, an instinctive warning that gave him an extra fraction of a second.
Enough.
He moved before the downward strike could land, blocking it with his forearm. The collision unleashed a shockwave of pressure that kicked up dust around them. He narrowed his eyes.
Then it happened.
Black sparks began to crackle around his fist, distorting the air. His cursed energy vibrated with restrained violence. Thanks to the physical boost from Flowing Red Scale: Stack, even the demon was unable to track Isagi's sudden acceleration with its eyes.
Time seemed to compress. His fist slammed into the demon's chest. For a millisecond, there was silence. And then—black lightning erupted in every direction at the exact moment of impact:
Black Flash.
The distortion was brutal. Space itself seemed to warp around the point of contact. With every physical enhancement active, combined with the Black Flash phenomenon, the result was devastating.
The demon's torso couldn't withstand it.
The upper half of its body exploded into a violent shower of blood and dark fragments. Flesh and multiple faces scattered through the air before falling like a crimson storm across the battlefield.
With a single punch. No holding back. Using all of his physical power. Isagi had annihilated the demon of many faces in one blow.
Isagi's mouth fell open into a perfect "O" as he stared at the result in front of him.
His gaze slowly dropped to his fist, still covered in remnants of cursed energy. Then it shifted toward what remained of the demon: the lower half of its body—legs and pieces of its abdomen—falling heavily to the ground with a wet sound.
He looked at his fist again. Then the legs. Then his fist. Then the legs again.
He blinked.
He hadn't expected that focusing absolutely all his strength into a single attack would produce something… like this.
—(Holy shit… I'm fucking jacked!) —he thought, raising his fist to the sky with a wide, shameless grin, while traces of blood evaporated into black sparks. —(One Punch!)
The mental echo of the name made his chest swell with pride for a second. At that moment, a bluish holographic screen unfolded beside him with a faint flash.
It was his System.
The letters floated clearly in the air.
[Ding]
[Probability of Black Flash increased by 1.5%]
[Current probability of performing Black Flash at will: 14%]
[Congratulations! You have killed the Cooked Faces Devil.]
[Reward: 1 gacha ticket to spend in the System's limited-time special section for reaching level 30.]
Isagi slowly lowered his fist, tilting his head as he read the messages.
—Now that I think about it… why was that demon so strong? —The euphoria faded slightly, making room for doubt.
"Cooked Faces Devil."
He didn't know exactly what fear it embodied. Obviously it had to be related to faces… but what specific kind of fear?
Isagi couldn't recall any common phobia directly associated with faces themselves.
And yet, that demon had possessed disproportionate durability and power.
The question hung in the air, as heavy as the metallic scent of blood still lingering around them.
—Hmmm?
A faint gray glint caught Isagi's attention.
Among the blood-soaked remains and the metallic smell still hanging in the air, something reflected the light. He walked toward the small object on the ground, his footsteps echoing softly over the wet surface. He stopped once he saw it clearly.
It was a small gray bullet, made of compact flesh and threaded with dark veins that still pulsed weakly.
Isagi extended his hand and picked it up carefully. It felt warm… Too warm for something that should've been inert. He held it between his index and ring finger, turning it slightly as he examined it.
It was, without a doubt, a bullet. A gray flesh bullet. Thanks to his reincarnator memories, he recognized it instantly.
—(A fragment of the Gun Devil… or Firearms Devil. Gun Devil sounds way cooler.) —he thought, inspecting the organic texture of the projectile. —(So that's why that demon was so strong…) —His eyes narrowed. —(How insane does the Gun Devil have to be for just a tiny fragment of him to hold that much power?)
The implication hit him like a bucket of cold water. That… made him realize something uncomfortable. He still lacked power. A lot of power.
If he wanted to compete with the true heavyweights of the Chainsaw Man world—monsters like the Gun Devil—he was still far.
Very far. He frowned slightly. He'd thought he was already strong… But now he understood he was barely scratching the surface.
Top five?
He wasn't even close.
He let out a sigh and tossed the bullet upward casually. The projectile spun in the air before falling back down, and he caught it cleanly mid-drop.
He looked to the side.
—Hey, Power —he said casually, though still thoughtful— do you think Makima would give me some kind of bonus if I hand this over?
The bullet rested between his fingers as if it were nothing.
---
End of the chapter.