The Injector

The cylinder clicked into place with a heavy, satisfying thunk.

“The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠crow’s a marksman, nyang?”

“Does that mean you handle bows or crossbows?”

Bows and crossbows. Well, I suppose that’s about the average for medieval ranged weapons. But I’m not some outdated demon stuck in the dark ages, swinging around primitive antiques. I’m a sleek, modern tactical devil who wields the pinnacle of humanity’s malice and murderous intent—the gun. A forward-thinking weapon for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a forward-thinking plague doctor.

Of course, that was before the analog goddess—who seemed more likely to worship a sundial than an atomic clock—robbed me of every piece of modern equipment I owned. Thankfully, even she had a shred of conscience. She left me one adorable little weapon that looked like she’d hand-stitched it herself and tucked it into my chest.

Injector. If I had to translate it, maybe “injector” or “syringe”? Injector. Not exactly a name that screams firearm. If I were going to give a gun a nickname, something like “Emmental Cheese Maker” or “Industrial Vacuum” would fit better. But once you understand what the Injector actually does, the goddess’s naming sense starts to make a twisted kind of sense.

This massive revolver looked like it could comfortably drop an elephant. And strangely, it didn’t fire lead bullets.

It fired fear.

That’s right. This was a genuine “fear injector”!

For a demon cosplaying as the embodiment of terror, it was the perfect weapon. When I first read the description, I actually got a little excited. Shooting fear? Would it make their skin crawl on impact? The curiosity was too much. I pressed the barrel to my temple and pulled the trigger.

And then…

Fear my ass. What came out was a deafening roar that could’ve peeled paint off walls. I got an earful from the stone-faced bartender and that damn bratty waitress, then spent the next several hours sprawled face-down on the table like a discarded chair. Staring at the wooden floor in a perfect plank position that could’ve been ripped straight from an exercise manual, I thought to myself:

This… isn’t half bad.

I’d only charged it with a single unit of mana, yet the recoil nearly snapped my head off. So what would happen if I poured in dozens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of times that amount?

Thanks to those rude adventurers who kindly dragged in a whole buffet of targets, it looked like I’d finally get to find out.

“Don’t be too surprised,” I warned my party members before casually sliding my hand into my chest the way someone might reach into a pocket.

Squelch.

A disgusting sensation like plunging my hand into wet mud, and my wrist disappeared completely into my ribcage.

“Aah! The chest thing again, nyang!”

“...I really can’t get used to that no matter how many times I see it.”

While the others watched with varying degrees of disgust, I rummaged around inside my own torso. Ah, there it is. Something hard and grippy near my ribs—probably shoved aside by Kkachi. I wrapped my fingers around it and pulled gently, like yanking a sweet potato vine.

Shhhrrrrk.

A long, heavy barrel slowly emerged from my chest, rippling black waves across my coat.

“Huh?”

“Nya!?”

Short screams escaped the black-mage cosplayer and the cat-eared rogue as they caught sight of its terrifyingly romantic silhouette.

“Th-that’s…”

“That’s not the insanely loud wand the crow was carrying this morning, nyang! Is the crow trying to make every adventurer deaf, nyang?!”

Sion clamped her bandaged hands over her ears in panic, probably reliving the morning’s forced wake-up call. Yuri looked like her fear had flipped straight into rage as she shouted. Guess the trauma ran deep.

But this was an emergency. No time to indulge their whining.

I calmed the yowling cat and the contractor who was slowly inching away from me, then spoke in an extremely serious tone.

“I’ll drive the aberrations away.”

“Drive them away, nyang?”

“Yes. So, Rogue.”

You clear out the adventurers. Unless you want to start hauling corpses.

***

Here’s the plan: While Sion somehow evacuates the adventurers, I’ll deliver a massive dose of fear straight into the aberrations’ inner ears. The fantasy medieval locals seem to be terrified of these ugly things and call them “aberrations,” but to me they’re just slightly weird-looking beasts. And beasts tend to have extremely sensitive hearing.

Which makes them the perfect natural enemy for a demon known as the High-Volume Nightmare.

Time to get ready, then.

After listening to my magnificent plan, Sion let out a long sigh, shouted “I don’t care anymore, nyang! Do whatever you want, nyang!” and bolted. I watched her retreating back for a moment, then quietly whispered the activation word.

A small UI window appeared in the corner of my vision. But then—

My mana dropped a little…?

Wait. One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand… hundred thousand, million—million?!

It wasn’t a little. Almost a million points had vanished. What the hell did I even do?

Is this because of Kkachi?

Had that lovable little parasite been sucking up my precious mana like it was drawing nutrients through an umbilical cord? I whipped my head around with the suspicious glare of a demon who’d just been robbed.

Behind a rock, I saw Yuri cautiously poking her head out, with Kkachi perched on top of her head like a pair of headphones. The little shadow bird had both wings wrapped tightly over Yuri’s ears, as if protecting a precious egg. It was so ridiculously cute I almost regretted not having a camera.

…Yeah. With a partner this adorable, what’s a million mana between friends? Even if it cost ten million, I’d invest without a single regret.

But why is she out here? It’s dangerous.

I gestured for her to move deeper behind the rock. Yuri tilted her head, then seemed to understand. She gave a small nod and mouthed, Be careful, Raven. before ducking fully out of sight.

Cute.

Once I confirmed she was completely hidden, I began charging the Injector.

Charge. 1000.

A hot-yet-cold sensation flowed out from my fingertips as the UI number climbed. So this is what mana drain feels like. It reminded me of submerging an open wound in water—strange and slightly unpleasant.

Clack!

Click-clack!

Inside the cylinder, a single pitch-black round had loaded. I’d been worried that pumping in too much mana might make it explode, but it held steady. Still, I had no intention of stopping at one shot. The Injector could hold up to six rounds. I wasn’t playing Russian roulette—I didn’t need to reload one at a time.

I flexed five more times in quick succession.

Not bad.

Looking at the cylinder packed with black bullets gave me a strange sense of satisfaction. With a flick of my wrist—clack—I snapped the cylinder shut and turned toward the canyon echoing with monstrous shrieks and curses.

“White Zone! It’s the White Zone!!!”

“You crazy aberration bastards! The moment the Guardian shows up, you’re all dead!!!”

“Everyone!!! If you can still talk… hek… please drag me out of here!”

“Lena! That’s why I told you to eat less and go for more walks!”

“Shut up! Did you ever help the leader cook or anything?!”

A noisy, chaotic group of four adventurers stumbled into view between the canyon walls. And right behind them came the things chasing them.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. A giant black salamander the size of a luxury sedan, from head to tail.

Tap. Tap-tap. A swarm of orange beetles the size of motorcycles, sparks flying from their long mandibles as they skittered forward.

Slither. Slither. A mass of snakes dragging rotting severed hands instead of heads.

And dozens of other bizarre creatures stumbling and crawling after them. Roughly thirty in total.

That’s… a lot more than I expected.

I paused for a second, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer volume. Then I made up my mind.

If I was going to do this, I might as well do it properly.

Charge. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠1000.

Charge. 1000.

Charge. 1000.

Charge. 1000.

Charge. 1000.

Charge. 1000.

Charge. 1000.

Charge. 1000.

Charge. 1000.

Charge. 1000.

Charge. 1000.

Nine additional charges. A single bullet now contained a total of ten thousand mana. I’d split the charges on purpose—if I tried to dump that much power in at once, the thing really might explode.

Good.

“This should be…”

Enough to drive them off for good.