With three pulls of the trigger, Lone put two bullets into the back of the devil's throat and one into its bony forehead. He planted a solid kick into its chest, forcing it back through the Gate, to wherever the hells it came from.
Sighing, he spun his body and put two more rounds into the chest of a devil approaching from behind. Slashing his sharper-than-steel sword, he cut the front half of the woman's neck, dark blood spilling out as she dropped to the chapel floors.
"⌈Whirl Shot,⌋ ⌈Whirl Shot...⌋ and... ⌈Whirl Shot.⌋"
Lone weaved through the chapel, swiping his sword. He swayed and spun to dodge the devils' scythe-arms, claws, and teeth. He fired his pistol another dozen times until it was far too hot to keep using.
A four-armed devil with a snapping, slavering maw on its stomach and no mouth was rushing at him out of desperation.
Lone wondered if that was what he looked like when he was losing... Because it looked really, really dumb.