Capítulo 5: Chapter 5: The Man in the Abyss of Despair!
Later that evening, Lod returned home with Nemu, carrying shopping bags full of clothes and snacks. As they approached their house in Queens, he spotted a figure slumped by a trash bin.
"Help... me," the man groaned.
Lod set Nemu down gently, then walked closer. It was none other than Frank Castle, the Punisher, his battered body barely clinging to life.
"It's you," Lod said flatly, unfazed. "Who got to you this time, Frank?"
Frank coughed, his voice hoarse. "It was Bullseye... but something's wrong. He's... stronger... like a monster."
Lod's eyes narrowed slightly. 'Maybe a Hollow-influenced human? Interesting.'
As Frank collapsed back against the bin, Lod stood silently, pondering his next move.
Frank Castle, also known as the Punisher, was the embodiment of the stereotypical tough guy.
His sharp features, neatly trimmed beard, and the signature black outfit emblazoned with a white skull made him a recognizable figure.
Originally, Frank served as a Marine, earning numerous medals for his exceptional service and unmatched combat skills. He was a hero in the eyes of many.
But after retiring, tragedy struck. While enjoying a day at the park with his family, he witnessed a gang deal. To silence witnesses, the gang ruthlessly targeted him and his family.
Frank survived, thanks to his combat skills, but his wife and children weren't so lucky.
Driven by grief and rage, Frank sought justice through the legal system. But the courts being corrupted by bribes and loopholes, let the murderers walk free. After learning this he became disillusioned, and he abandoned his faith in law and government. He vowed to deliver justice himself, and became the anti-hero known as The Punisher.
So, what's an anti-hero? Unlike the shiny, righteous heroes who embody ideal morals and flawless values, anti-heroes are raw and unfiltered. They strip away the glamour, exposing a grittier reality. They might have questionable morals, flawed appearances, or tragic backstories, but they still uphold their own version of justice.
Frank Castle is the embodiment of this. He believed in blood for blood, an eye for an eye, and mercy for none. Criminals in his path faced one outcome: death.
Lod found himself admiring anti-heroes like Frank more than the self-proclaimed paragons of virtue. The hypocrisy of those "noble" heroes irked him. Frank's raw honesty and adherence to his moral code were far more relatable.
Lod examined Frank's battered body with a furrowed brow.
Frank's wounds were severe. Gunshot injuries tore through his abdomen and shoulder, his left leg was forcibly amputated at the root, and his ribs were crushed. To top it off, his right arm was bent unnaturally backward.
Even Lod, who is used to chaos and gore, couldn't help but grimace.
"Damn, Frank. You're hard to kill." Lod muttered.
Frank wasn't dead—yet. His survival was thanks to an enchanted healing charm Lod had sold him before. The charm is a product of the Fourth Division's healing arts, it sustains life by providing continuous healing. However, it couldn't completely restore such devastating injuries.
Lod dragged Frank into the shop, he was treating him like dead weight. Frank being barely conscious, couldn't even protest to this treatment.
---
Inside, Lod debated how to save him. His own healing skills were basic at best, and without access to advanced healing techniques or a Zanpakutō like Minazuki, Frank's chances looked bleak.
As Lod pondered, his gaze fell on Nemu. Maybe the little genius could help.
"Nemu," he asked, ruffling her hair, "can you save him?"
Nemu bit her lip thoughtfully. "Not with regular healing. But if I had a lab, I could try modifying him."
"A lab?" Lod raised an eyebrow. "You mean like Kurotsuchi's research facilities?"
Nemu nodded.
"Yeah, that's not happening," Lod said with a sigh. He lacked the resources for such an operation.
Nemu tugged at his sleeve. "Big Brother, you're forgetting something."
"What?" Lod asked, confused.
"Your power as a Shinigami," she said, tilting her head. "Death doesn't mean the end of everything. You can save him another way."
Lod froze as realization dawned on him. Of course! Frank didn't need to stay human—he could become a Shinigami. Lod could give him a second chance at life and gain a valuable ally in the process.
"Of course!" he exclaimed. "If he can't survive as a human, he can live as a Shinigami!"
He grinned and kissed Nemu on the forehead.
"You're a genius!"
Turning Frank into a Shinigami wouldn't just save his life—it would also bind him to Lod, which would ensure his loyalty. Lod felt no fear of betrayal. Strength was the ultimate deterrent, and as long as he remained more powerful, Frank wouldn't dare oppose him.
---
Frank who was barely holding on, only groaned. Lod knelt beside him and said, "Frank, listen. You're dying, and I can't heal these wounds. But there's another way. I can make you a Shinigami. You'll live, but not as a human anymore."
Frank's bloodshot eyes opened slightly. He rasped, "Do whatever... if it means I can keep fighting."
Lod grinned. "Good choice. You won't regret it."
As Lod prepared for the transformation, a flicker of excitement crossed his face. A Punisher-turned-Shinigami? The chaos and change Frank could bring to this world intrigued him.
Lod muttered to himself, 'Let's see what kind of havoc you can wreak, Frank.'
Thinking that, Lod didn't waste time.
Frank's breathing was getting weaker by the second. If he delayed any longer, it might truly be too late to save him.
Holding the nearly lifeless Frank in one hand, Lod led the way while Nemu followed closely behind. They descended into the hidden chamber beneath the Seireitei.
Before turning Frank into a Shinigami, Lod needed his consent. If Frank refused, he wouldn't force him.
In his current physical form, Lod's Zanpakutō had transformed into a staff with the Shinigami insignia engraved at the base. This staff had only one purpose: to eject a living person's soul from their body.
This method had been used in the original storyline by Rukia and Kisuke to separate Ichigo's soul from his body.
Supporting the barely conscious Frank, Lod raised the staff and firmly tapped it against Frank's forehead.
Pop!
In an instant, Frank's translucent soul was ejected from his body, a long chain extended from his chest.
"Yo," Lod said casually, leaning on the staff with a calm smile. "Frank, how're you feeling now?"
Frank knelt on the ground, panting heavily, his face pale. "Why... does it feel... so hard to breathe?"
"That's normal," Lod said with a light laugh. "A living soul separated from its body often experiences difficulty breathing. No need to panic."
Frank looked confused. "Living soul? Body? What're you talking about?"
Lod pointed to the side with his staff. "It means... you're dead, Frank."
"Dead?" Frank followed the direction Lod pointed and froze. His pupils shrank as he stared. "Wait... Lod, is that my body?"
"Not yet," Lod replied nonchalantly. "But it will be soon."
From the moment Frank's soul left his body, his physical form had entered a state of suspended animation. He had an hour or two before his body completely expired.
"I... I'm dead?" Frank's face turned ashen, his lips trembling slightly. Despair and pain filled his eyes. "Not even you can save me?"
Meeting Frank's desperate gaze, Lod shook his head. "No. Your injuries are beyond repair. I'm sorry, Frank."
Frank's last shred of hope was crushed by those words.
"Heh..." Frank chuckled bitterly. His expression darkened with anger or frustration, Lod couldn't tell.
He was dead. But the people who had slaughtered his wife and children were still alive, indulging in luxury and living like kings.
He clenched his fists, seething with rage at his own helplessness, the unjust system, and the cruel world that had let this happen.
"Arrghhh!" Frank roared, slamming his fists against the ground, his voice filled with despair and fury.
"Hey, hold on a sec." Lod interrupted, his tone casual. "There's still a way to keep you alive, though not in the way you're used to. It's just a matter of whether you're willing or not."
Frank's head shot up, his eyes wide. "What? Tell me! No matter the cost, I'll do it!"
"Even your soul?"
Frank hesitated. He'd seen enough movies to know that deals involving souls usually led to trouble—These deals are usually done by demons.
And now that he thought about it, Lod being able to see his soul was already suspicious. Maybe Lod is a demon.
But what did it matter? When his family was slaughtered, God didn't care. When he sought justice through the law, the government didn't care.
If the world didn't care, why should he?
"Even my soul," Frank said firmly. "If it means I can avenge my family, you can have it!"
"Good." Lod nodded approvingly. "Since you agree, there are some things I need to explain."
"A contract, right?" Frank said, cutting him off.
"Contract?" Lod frowned.
"Yeah, the kind demons use—flaming parchment with a bunch of fine print meant to screw you over."
Lod stared blankly. "Frank, why would you think I'm a demon?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Frank replied, deadpan. "You're asking for my soul. Every movie shows that's what demons do."
Lod rubbed his temples, exasperated. "Frank, maybe stop watching so much TV. I'm not a demon, and I don't need your soul."
"Sure, demon," Frank said, clearly unconvinced. "So, what's the plan? Turn me into one of your kind?"
Lod sighed. "Look down. See that chain on your chest?"
Frank finally noticed the chain linking his soul to his body. He gave it a tug, hearing it clink. "What's this for?"
"It's called the Chain of Fate," Lod explained. "It connects your soul to your body. If it breaks, you die completely."
Frank raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so how're you gonna keep me alive?"
Lod's smile turned sharp. "Frank, who said anything about reviving you?"
Before Frank could react, a flash of silver light struck the chain, severing it with a sharp clang.
"Wha—!" Frank's eyes widened in shock as the chain fell to the ground.
"Done," Lod said with a smirk. "Now you're officially dead."
"WHAT THE HELL?" Frank bellowed, veins bulging on his forehead. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"Relax." Lod's tone was calm. "Living doesn't always mean staying in a human body. There are other ways to exist."
"You mean as a demon?" Frank sneered.
"No," Lod said, brushing him off. "If you want to survive and gain the strength to avenge your family, then stop asking questions and follow my lead."
Frank fell silent, his military instincts taking over. After a moment, he nodded. "Fine. Even if I become a monster, I'll do whatever it takes."
"Good." Lod grinned. "Let's get started."
---
"Survive." Lod pointed a finger and said calmly, "All you need to do is survive. That's it."
"Bakudō #1: Sai!"
"Bakudō #61: Rikujōkōrō!"
Frank's hands were forcibly bound as Kidō temporarily sealed his movements.
Thud!
Frank stared at Lod in disbelief and asked, "What are you doing?"
"You'll find out soon enough," Lod replied, snapping his fingers.
Suddenly, a pit opened beneath Frank. He felt the ground vanish beneath him as he plummeted downward.
After several seconds, a loud crash echoed from the bottom of the pit, accompanied by Frank's agonized scream.
Lod jumped in after him, following closely behind.
---
At the bottom of the pit, Frank lay sprawled on the ground. Being a soul, he wasn't gravely injured, but cold sweat dripped from his forehead.
Even as a soldier who had skydived countless times, this free fall was unlike anything he'd experienced before.
As he regained his composure, Frank noticed the oppressive silence and pitch-black surroundings. The stillness weighed heavily on him.
"What's the plan here?" Frank muttered to himself. His expression turned grim as he recalled Lod binding his hands and throwing him into this abyss. It all felt... oddly familiar.
Wait... This is exactly how they'd treated prisoners back in World War 2.
"Lod," Frank called out nervously, his eyelids twitching, "Don't tell me... you want me to climb out of here?"
"Smart, Frank," Lod replied, leaning on his staff. "That's exactly what I want you to do."
"..."
A vein throbbed on Frank's forehead. "Are you kidding me? My hands are tied! How the hell am I supposed to climb out?"
"Who said I was joking?" Lod raised an eyebrow. "I'm dead serious."
"Lod... You... Fuc... are you out of your damn mind?" Frank's voice shook slightly out of frustration. "This pit is at least 100 meters deep! How is anyone supposed to climb out without using their hands?"
"Then don't be human anymore," Lod said nonchalantly.
"...???"
Frank's heart sank as he realized Lod wasn't bluffing.
"You're... serious?" Frank asked hesitantly.
"Absolutely." Lod nodded with a faint smile. "If you want to survive and avenge your wife and children, you must climb out on your own."
"And if I fail?" Frank pressed on, "What then? Starve to death here?"
Lod's eyes narrowed as he pressed his staff against Frank's chest. His lips moved slightly as he murmured, "Frank, the first erosion... is about to begin."
"The first erosion?" Frank began to question him, but a searing pain exploded from deep within his soul.
The agony was unimaginable.
The man, known for his iron will and unshakable resolve, writhed on the ground, clenching his jaw so tightly his teeth ground audibly.
He had once dug out bullet fragments from his body without anesthesia, yet that pain was nothing compared to this.
The erosion came swiftly and left just as fast.
"What... the hell... was that?" Frank gasped, lying weakly on the ground, staring at Lod in shock.
"Chain erosion," Lod explained. "Remember what I said before? The chain doesn't just connect the body and soul—it reflects the completeness of your spirit and mind.
"Normally, the erosion would take much longer, but here, in the Pit of Despair, the process is condensed to just 72 hours.
"If your chain is entirely corroded, it means your soul has been consumed. Your memories of your wife and children, your past, your experiences... all of it will vanish.
"And you... will turn into a monster. A creature devoid of compassion and reason, driven by instinct, feeding on human souls."
This method was risky, but Lod had no other options. Right now, the only viable way to turn a human into a Shinigami was this.
He lacked even the most basic Asauchi, let alone the ability to transfer Shinigami powers like Rukia. Frank's soul likely couldn't handle it anyway.
Not everyone could become a Shinigami.
And certainly not everyone was like Ichigo, who naturally possessed immense Reiryoku, and be capable of withstanding the transformation. Frank didn't have that luxury.
---
"What if I do turn into a monster?" Frank asked quietly.
"When that time comes..." Lod's voice turned icy as he interrupted, "I will personally... cut you down."
Frank didn't doubt Lod's words. The subtle but unmistakable resolve in Lod's eyes left no room for argument.
Oddly enough, Frank wasn't scared. He felt calm.
For him, his family was everything. If even those memories were stripped away, he'd rather die.
The Punisher feared nothing, not even death.
His only regret was not avenging his family and delivering justice.
"Do it, Lod," Frank said with a grin, his eyes burning with determination. "I'd rather die by your hand than turn into a soulless beast."
Frank understood the cost of power.
And now, the opportunity to gain that power had come, requiring only a "small" price.
Lod nodded approvingly. "Good resolve. Since you're ready, I'll give you one last piece of advice."
Frank listened intently, knowing it could be crucial.
"The erosion will last about 72 hours—three days," Lod explained. "But the exact timing depends on the individual. The final stage of erosion will be exponentially more painful and faster than everything before it combined.
"If you don't want to become a monster, there's only one way: find the dormant power within your soul, the one that has always been there but never awakened.
"It could be a person, an animal, an object—anything that embodies your soul and beliefs. Converse with it, then... call its name."
Lod didn't bother explaining further. He'd said what was necessary. Success or failure now depended on fate.
"I understand," Frank said calmly. "If I find that power, I survive... and gain the strength to avenge my family."
"Exactly," Lod replied with a slight nod. "I'll be waiting at the top. Don't make me kill you, Frank."
"Heh..." Frank chuckled. "You won't get the chance, Lod."
"We'll see," Lod said with a faint smile.
With that, Lod ascended to the top of the pit, stepping on platforms formed from Reiryoku, leaving Frank alone.
---
In 72 hours, the truth would be revealed.
Would Frank Castle succumb to becoming a Hollow, or rise as a Shinigami?
---
Seventy hours had passed since Frank had been cast into the Pit, or its more pretentious name the Abyss of Despair.
During this time, he had tried countless times to climb out, even resorting to biting protrusions in the rocky walls with his teeth when his hands could no longer hold on. Despite his relentless attempts, his best record was climbing an additional two or three meters before falling back down. The cost of this effort? A good set of teeth.
'Time is running out...' murmured Lod silently in his heart. 'Frank, don't make me kill you myself.'
Down in the pit, Frank lay weakly on the ground, his face etched with bitterness.
He had underestimated the challenge. Lod had said he needed to find the power hidden deep within his soul. He thought it would be simple. But after countless attempts spanning hours, he was close to despair, even wondering if Lod had tricked him.
Where was this so-called power buried in his soul?
In the silent darkness, he had screamed, prayed, even begged for it to manifest—but there was no response. All that remained was the chain, eroded to a short stump at his chest.
The agony of his soul and the despair in his heart foretold his fate: just like the chain, he too would vanish.
But Frank refused to give up.
As his consciousness wavered, he felt like he was dreaming. In this dream, he saw his family and the countless souls he had sent to the grave. The images alternated like a racing montage.
Drip... drip...
The cold sensation of rain brought him back. When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying in a wasteland beneath a gloomy and stormy sky.
Cold and piercing raindrops pelted his body. Frank slowly got up, looking around in confusion. "Where... am I?"
"This is your inner world," came a voice.
A man in a white trench coat appeared, his features resembling Frank's.
"Who... are you?" Frank asked, immediately on guard, his muscles tensing as he prepared to fight.
"How pitiful... how tragic..."
The white-coated figure spoke coldly. "How many times must I call for you to finally hear my name?"
Frank's eyes narrowed. "I've never seen you before. Who are you? Why do you look like me?"
"Still don't see it?" The man sneered, a look of disdain on his face. "I am you, Frank."
"You're me?" Frank froze for a moment before recalling what Lod had said. He muttered instinctively, "Are you the power hidden in my soul?"
"That's one way to put it," the man said indifferently. "But to be precise, I am your Soul Reaper power."
"That's great!" Frank's eyes lit up. "Give me your power before I turn into a monster!"
"Give you power?"
The man's expression turned cold. "Frank, you've misunderstood something."
"What do you mean?" Frank frowned. "Aren't you my power?"
"Tell me, Frank... what do you truly want?" the man asked sternly.
"I..."
Frank froze. For a moment, he didn't know how to answer.
What did he want?
Until now, he had never considered this. He had only acted on his anger, seeking vengeance and punishing evil.
But now, faced with this question, he didn't know how to respond.
"Frank..." the man continued. "Do you remember how many lives you've taken?
Was it a hundred? Two hundred? A thousand? Two thousand?
What are you really after? Revenge? Justice? Or are you just venting your anger?
Tell me, Frank! Are you a revenger, or are you a punisher?"
Frank clenched his fists, veins bulging on his forehead. "Does it even matter?"
"It does..." The man's gaze deepened. "I need your answer. Tell me your truth, Frank!"
Frank fell silent.
The man's words struck a nerve. Many times, Frank himself had been unsure.
Was he consumed by the flames of vengeance, or was he a champion of justice?
Lowering his head, Frank's eyes dimmed with sorrow. He muttered:
"I've been in despair...
I've felt lost...
Every time I think back to that day, when bullets of sin tore through their chests, my rage becomes uncontrollable, threatening to consume my reason!
I know this much...
As long as there's profit in the world, evil will never vanish. This is a lonely, endless war!
Anger fuels my bullets!
Hatred flows in my veins!
Justice... is my belief!
If laws and order cannot judge them, then I will become the Punisher, delivering pale and hollow justice!
An eye for an eye, blood for blood!
This isn't vengeance... it's punishment!
The guilty must die!"
Frank roared, his crimson eyes brimming with fury as an invisible spiritual pressure erupted from him, creating a raging whirlwind.
"Remember your resolve..."
The man smiled faintly, a mix of satisfaction and pity on his face.
"Call my name, Frank!"
"Call... my name!"
---
Boom!
A fiery comet shot up from the pit and crashed back down to the ground.
"Oh?" Lod arched a brow, a smile playing on his lips. "Looks like you did it, Frank."
Frank stood there in a black trench coat adorned with a massive white skull emblem on the back. In his hand was his Zanpakutō.
Unlike Lod's blade, Frank's Zanpakutō took the form of a standard Western knight's sword.
The sword was unadorned, plain to the point of being easily overlooked.
"This sword..."
Lod's gaze lingered on it, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
A Zanpakutō reflects the wielder's soul; its form, appearance, and abilities are tied to their essence. But Frank's sword being such an ordinary knight's blade was unexpected.
"Thank you," Frank said, glancing at Lod before focusing on the blade in his hand. "So... this is my power?"
"Congratulations," Lod clapped lightly. "From today onward, you're no longer Frank the Punisher. You're Frank the Shinigami, or Soul Reaper."
"Heh..." Frank smirked, shaking his head. "I still prefer being called the Punisher."
"Then let's start the third lesson—" Lod drew his blade. "Show me what your Zanpakutō can do."
Frank chuckled. "After you nearly killed me? Letting me take a swing or two seems fair."
"Go ahead if you can," Lod replied, his smile widening.
"Get ready, Lod."
Frank ran a rough hand over the sword's edge, his gaze turning heavy. "This is my first time using it, so if I accidentally kill you, I'm not responsible."
"Come on." Lod narrowed his eyes as an immense Reiatsu burst forth, creating a tidal wave of force.
Frank raised his sword to his chest, his eyes blazing as he shouted:
"Justice is pale and humble, but it's never weak!"
"Initial Release—Pale Justice!"
Frank's Zanpakutō underwent its Shikai transformation, changing from a Western-style knight's sword into a hybrid weapon that combined guns and blades. It functions like the Reiterpallasch from Bloodborne, but the weapon's silver-gray design was simple yet deadly, with a massive gun barrel and a sharp blade, it was tailored purely for fast combat. Despite the transformation, it retained the unadorned and practical appearance it had before.
"Guns?" Lod chuckled. "That's so your style. But I didn't expect it to be a dual-type Zanpakutō!"
Dual-type Zanpakutō were incredibly rare in the Soul Society, with only three known examples, all belonging to captain-level Shinigami. These included Shunsui's—Katen Kyōkotsu, Ukitake's— Sōgyo no Kotowari, and Ichigo's—reforged Zangetsu.
Frank burst out laughing. "Like it? Even if you do, no way am I giving it to you!"
"No need for that," Lod replied with a sly grin. "My sword's not bad either."
Suddenly, Frank raised his weapon and fired without hesitation, catching Lod off guard.
In battle, Frank followed no rules—his only goal was to kill his opponent. He knew from Lod's earlier Reiatsu that he was at a disadvantage and could only win through surprise attacks.
With a thunderous roar, his gunblade spat fire, launching a metal bullet that streaked toward Lod like a meteor.
"Too slow!" Lod smirked and stepped forward, swinging his Zanpakutō.
Zanjutsu: Sword Pressure!
The blade was infused with Reiryoku, and it slashed through the bullet, creating a shower of sparks.
Just as Lod thought it was over, he noticed Frank's lips curling into a smug smile.
Click!
The split bullet released a spring-loaded mechanism, unleashing a hail of steel needles.
Shunpo: Utsusemi!
Lod vanished in an instant, leaving only his coat behind. The steel needles tore through it, and left only countless holes.
"Damn!" Lod muttered, relieved to have dodged. "Frank, you play dirty. That could've killed me!"
"Dodged, huh?" Frank narrowed his eyes, analyzing Lod's movements as he raised his gunblade again. "This time, I'll speed it up!"
Boom!
The next shot was three times faster, closing the distance in a blink.
"Impressive," Lod muttered, holding his Zanpakutō horizontally to block the bullet. Even so, the impact forced him back a step.
"Faster!" Frank barked, firing eighteen consecutive shots without pause.
The bullets tore through the air, their trajectories forming arcs that encircled Lod like a web.
"Curved shots?" Lod raised an eyebrow. 'What is this, Bulletstorm? Was this Frank's technique, or his Zanpakutō's ability?'
No time to ponder—eighteen bullets were already closing in.
"Too predictable," Lod said. He unleashed a flurry of strikes, cutting down each bullet with speed too fast for the naked eye.
"Not bad," Frank admitted, smirking. "But did you forget? My bullets are more than just bullets."
Click!
The split bullets emitted a mechanical whir, followed by explosions of fire, poison gas, and steel needles. The area around Lod turned into a chaotic battlefield.
"Got him?" Frank watched the smoke, only to feel a chilling presence behind him.
Damn it! He missed!
Frank swung his gunblade instinctively, clashing with Lod's Zanpakutō.
"Still alive, huh?" Frank growled, grinding his teeth.
"You're full of surprises," Lod admitted, though he couldn't help laughing. "Eighteen bullets with eighteen effects? What, can your Zanpakutō modify their properties at will?"
"You're not bad yourself," Frank replied through gritted teeth. Despite his best efforts, Lod held him down effortlessly with a single hand, nearly forcing him to his knees.
"Is that it?" Lod asked, disappointed. "If this is all you've got, your vengeance is a long way off."
Frank's abilities, while flashy, lacked depth. His Zanpakutō seemed limited to altering bullets—a gimmick more than anything.
Frank suddenly smirked. "Lod, battles aren't just about strength. Information matters too!"
"Oh?" Lod raised an eyebrow. "What else you got?"
Frank stepped back, lifting his left-handed gunblade, which he hadn't used before.
"So that's it," Lod realized. "Your left-hand weapon has a Separation power, doesn't it?"
Frank aimed the gunblade at his chest and fired.
Bang!
The blood-red bullet pierced Frank's chest. His Reiatsu erupted and surged wildly.
"Lod," Frank growled with his eyes glowing red. "The Initial Release of Pale Justice has two parts. The right gun, Justice, customizes bullet properties. You've seen that already. But the left gun, Pale, grants me abilities like..."
He paused, smirking.
"...this!"
Frank's body surged with power. "It maximizes all my attributes and lets me keep fighting no matter what injuries I sustain!"
"Typical Frank," Lod muttered as he shook his head.
(End of Chapter)
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