Stark's breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself up from the ground, the transparent Crimson Barrier surrounding him flickering, visibly weakened but still holding.
Cracks spidered across its surface, as if one more hit might shatter it completely.
His vision swam for a moment before he steadied himself.
"You okay?" Sora asked, her tone flat and emotionless as usual, though there was a strange undertone that hinted at concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine..." Stark groaned, brushing the dust off as he got to his feet.
His body was aching from the sniper's devastating hit, but there was no time to dwell on it.
Just as he found his footing, another sharp crack echoed through the air.
FWISH! FWISH! FWISH!
Several more bullets cut through the sky, each aimed with deadly precision.
Stark's heart raced, his instincts screaming at him to move.
His eyes sharpened, and his body acted before his mind fully registered.
He twisted and dodged, narrowly avoiding the streaking bullets, each one tearing through the air with the goal of killing him.
But Stark couldn't figure out the sniper's position, it was far beyond the boy's reach.
He couldn't just keep dodging.
The sniper could be anywhere, and retreating would only give the attacker more opportunities.
Going back to Villagers Street wasn't an option either—Stark knew the sniper had an extensive range and could likely shoot him no matter where he went.
Gritting his teeth, he made his decision.
"ASURA'S ARMS... WRATH!" he roared, his aura exploding outward.
Four crimson arms burst from his body—two extending from his shoulders, and two from beneath his original arms.
The ethereal limbs crackled with divine energy, brimming with the raw power of a god.
Each arm throbbed with strength, mirroring his own potential, but imbued with the divine fury of the God of Wrath.
[Asura's Arms - Wrath: Activated]
Stark's six arms flexed as he prepared himself for the next attack.
The sniper was relentless, but if Stark could intercept one of those bullets, he could turn the tide.
It was a gamble, almost suicide, but it was the only option left.
Somewhere in the distance, the sniper clicked his tongue in annoyance, hidden in the shadows of crumbling buildings.
He had been expecting an easy kill.
"Hm..." the sniper muttered, adjusting his scope.
His pale, disfigured hand reloaded the weapon, this time sliding in something far more sinister than a regular bullet. "Looks like I'll have to use this."
The sniper loaded a glowing bullet into his gun, its surface pulsating with an eerie, crimson-black energy.
[Moonscorched Bullet Loaded]
"This one won't miss," the sniper growled, his voice low and mechanical.
Stark, standing in the open with his six crimson arms raised, watched as the sniper prepared his next shot.
He didn't know what kind of bullet this was, but something about it felt overwhelmingly dangerous.
BOOM!
The sniper fired, and the world seemed to slow.
The bullet was unlike any Stark had ever seen.
A spiraling, dark red and black projectile shot toward him at terrifying speed, crackling with energy.
Stark barely had time to brace himself before the bullet made contact with his raised arms.
BAMMM!
The impact was so powerful that the entire village could hear it.
A deafening explosion echoed through the streets, shaking buildings and sending waves of dust into the air.
...
In a nearby alley, Starful, the fashionable blonde-haired girl fighting off Moonscorched Rats, stopped in her tracks, her face twisting in confusion.
"What the hell was that?" she muttered, glancing around nervously.
...
"Even reaching the main square first means trouble, huh?" Stark muttered under his breath, his six arms still raised and ready for action.
The adrenaline still pumped through his veins as he eyed the sniper warily.
Controlling his six arms felt almost natural now, far easier than he had imagined when he first gained the ability.
The intense training in the Memories Museum had paid off—he could manipulate them with ease, every motion fluid and precise.
The sniper, now back on its feet, growled in frustration.
"Die," it grumbled, and its cannon arm came to life once more.
"SNIPE SHOT!"
BOOM!
Another massive bullet tore through the air, but Stark was faster this time.
He sidestepped, the bullet whizzing past him and smashing into the gate behind him, reducing it to rubble.
He activated his Perception, scanning the sniper.
...
[Name: Levi, The Moonscorched Sniper]
[Level: 500]
[HP: 2,353,151/3,000,000]
[Strength: 31,283]
[Stamina: 12,842]
[Speed: 12,472]
[Defense: 11,821]
[Skills: Sniper Arm (Passive); Moonscorched Bullet; Hardened Carapace; Enhanced Scope; Snipe Shot; Unyielding Will (MYTHICAL Passive); Bullet Storm; Shadow Cloak; Explosive Shell; Adaptive Targeting (GODLY PASSIVE)...]
...
That thing overwhelming strength, no wonder it did over 200,000 damage to Stark, even though he was a [Domination] user, which meant his aura protected him.
A normal person could have potentially received 1,000,000 damage.
But what stood out most were its skills—ten of them, all deadly.
...
[Sniper Arm (Passive): Fires bullets with extreme precision and power.]
[Moonscorched Bullet: Instantly moonscorches targets on impact.]
[Hardened Carapace: Greatly increases defense when under attack.]
[Enhanced Scope: Increases accuracy from long distances.]
[Snipe Shot: A charged attack that deals immense damage.]
[Unyielding Will: Gains increased power the longer a battle lasts.]
[Bullet Storm: Fires a rapid succession of bullets in a wide area.]
[Shadow Cloak: Can conceal itself for a brief period.]
[Explosive Shell: Fires a special bullet that causes a large area explosion upon impact.]
[Adaptive Targeting: The sniper adjusts its aim, improving accuracy with each missed shot.]
...
Stark gritted his teeth.
This wasn't just a fight against a regular boss—this thing was built for long-range warfare.
He needed to act fast before the sniper's skill set overwhelmed him.
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Levi's Adaptive Targeting and Unyielding Will were particularly dangerous if the battle dragged on.
The longer it lasted, the more deadly Levi would become.
Levi raised his cannon-like arm again, the weapon glowing ominously as it prepared another shot.
Stark couldn't give it the chance.
"Alright, no more games," Stark muttered, his voice a low growl as he readied himself for the next move.
His crimson arms crackled with energy, the power of the God of Wrath burning within him.