The VEGA system had glitched. The anthem of his carnage was stuck in a temporal feedback loop, the same sixty-second window of earth-shattering bass and screaming industrial metal playing over and over.
Thirty minutes in, the Slayer realized the rhythm was his pulse now. He stopped using his guns. The Super Shotgun was too slow for this tempo. He switched to the Doomblade, his movements becoming a blur of choreographed violence. He wasn't just fighting; he was conducting. The VEGA system had glitched
As the hour mark approached, the Slayer stood atop a pile of charred chitin and cracked skulls. The loop reached its final, most aggressive peak. The air around him began to glow—not from Argent energy, but from the sheer friction of his intent. The music finally cut to silence. He stopped using his guns
By the forty-five-minute mark, the remaining demons began to retreat. They had seen the Slayer kill before, but never like this. He was moving in perfect sync with a song only he and the burning ruins of the base could hear. He paced the halls, the stomp of his boots landing exactly on the downbeat. A Cacodemon drifted into view, saw the Slayer’s head tilt in time with the distorted guitar melody, and promptly tried to swallow its own eye in terror. He wasn't just fighting; he was conducting
Should we delve into the he used during the loop, or
The air in the Phobos base didn’t just smell like ozone and spent brass anymore; it tasted like static.
The demons felt it first. A Hell Knight charged, its roar lost under the weight of a beat that seemed to vibrate the very atoms of the corridor. The Slayer didn’t even look at it. He caught the beast's jaw in mid-air, timed to the precise moment the snare hit. Snap.