The air in Hell was thick with ash and screams, just the way it always was. Flames licked the ruined buildings, smoke coiled through the skies like black serpents, and the stench of sulfur hung heavy in the air. Kikidori walked through the streets like he always did—calm, quiet, thoughtful in a way no one ever expected from someone made of hellfire and fury.
His boots echoed on the cracked stone streets, past demons brawling, souls wailing, and vendors selling unholy delicacies to crowds of the depraved. Nothing surprised him here. Nothing impressed him anymore.
He was bored again.
He was *always* bored.
And that's when it happened.
**Bang. Bang. Bang.**
Three shots. Demonic pistols. Blessed only with infernal hate and hellmetal.
The bullets hit Kikidori right in the back.
He stumbled forward a step. Looked down at his chest. Saw the holes.
They were already closing.
He sighed.
Turned slowly.
Three demons stood behind him, all wearing tattered biker gear, spikes on their shoulders, twisted horns glowing faintly. The tallest, still aiming the smoking gun, sneered at him.
"Look who's out walking without a leash," he growled. "The prince of nothing."
Kikidori tilted his head. "You just shot me."
The demon chuckled. "You noticed?"
Kikidori looked unimpressed. "You're an idiot."
The others laughed. "What you gonna do about it, pretty boy?" another demon mocked.
Kikidori exhaled slowly.
Then he started walking toward them.
They tensed.
He didn't speak.
Didn't flinch.
He walked with purpose, like a shadow that had decided it no longer wanted to be ignored.
"Back off!" the gun-wielding demon shouted, taking another step back.
Kikidori didn't stop.
The demon raised the pistol again, finger on the trigger.
That was a mistake.
Kikidori moved faster than their eyes could follow. One moment he was walking, and the next he was inches from the shooter.
He grabbed the demon's wrist—firm, tight, unyielding.
The gun was still in the demon's hand.
Kikidori slowly turned it.
Pressed it to the demon's own temple.
The demon's eyes widened. "W-wait—"
**Click. BOOM.**
The gun fired.
Brains splattered the alley wall.
The other two demons screamed and stumbled back.
Kikidori dropped the now-limp hand and stepped over the corpse. Blood ran into the cracks of the scorched street.
He looked at the two remaining demons, eyes cold and glowing.
"Do I look like I'm in the mood?" he asked flatly.
They ran.
Cowards.
Smart cowards.
He stood there for a moment, breathing in the silence. One dead demon. Two terrified. No one else even stopped to look. In Hell, violence was a whisper in a chorus of screams.
Kikidori cracked his neck. "I need better distractions."
He walked on, not even looking back.
The end of chapter 11.