Watching the net woven from hundreds of "hands" descend over him, Sifa remained composed but still felt sick. When he saw eyelids-less eyes emerging from those arms and staring at him, he regretted eating too much for dinner.
In the corridor, the "net" woven from countless arms had already wrapped around Sifa. Just then, a streak of crimson suddenly flashed across it.
Swish, swish, swish.
Crimson light flickered and crisscrossed. In an instant, the net woven by the "Faceless" was cut into chunks of severed limbs. Bloody flesh flew in all directions, and fingers of varying lengths fell all over the floor.
Then all those things turned into thin sheets of paper and burned to ashes.
Sifa stood amid the ashes, a sword condensed from flames now in his hand. Compared to before, this Flaming Sword was darker in color. Its tip was incandescent white, while the flames forming the blade no longer churned and flickered wildly, maintaining a relatively stable state. However, they still fell short of the purity of plasma.
Even so, Sifa still used it to slice apart the "Faceless's" net with ease.
Ahead in the corridor, the "Faceless," whose face had no features and was covered in fleshy buds, outlined his form in the air. He held both arms level, and fleshy buds sprouted from them, rapidly writhing and growing into palms—one hand after another.
This time, mouths without lips grew across those arms and palms. Large and small, they opened in unison, then imitated the sound of gunfire.
"Fuck!"
Sifa threw up his arms and abruptly crashed toward a room to the side, but it was too late.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The corridor rang with dense gunfire like a machine gun sweeping across the area. Sifa's body, still in midair, was blasted full of holes