At this rate, if he kept stacking for a few hours, wouldn't he be able to destroy the moon with a single shot?
"That's precisely the problem."
Allen's pupils trembled, as though something inconceivable had occurred to him.
"Since the battle began, I've fired roughly a few thousand bullets at [primordial blood]. Definitely fewer than ten thousand."
Elliot nodded. These guns were all made by the Sterling Family, and they could fire several hundred rounds a minute.
Allen hadn't had this many loaders at the start, so his efficiency certainly couldn't have been this high. That figure sounded about right.
"But..."
Allen looked toward [primordial blood]. "The number of [spirituality mark] stacks on Him is far higher than that!"
Elliot raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean? How many stacks does He have now?"
"Over a hundred million."
Elliot's eyes instantly widened!
Wait, was this really a bug? How had it stacked over a hundred million times?!
"I felt it when I fired the first shot. That bullet struck [primordial blood]'s flesh, and its brass tip was casually deflected by that thick flesh without causing even a ripple."
"But in the blink of an eye, that whole mass... that mass of flesh larger than a ship's cabin swelled into a huge bulge, like a balloon inflated in an instant!"
"That was actually the power attached to the bullet forcibly tearing through the surface and blasting open a huge cavity. It burst a moment later, like the surface of water struck by a pebble."
"Then my bullets rained down, and wherever they swept across [primordial blood], ripples appeared over His body."
"I didn't build up those [spirituality mark] stacks at all, but they're genuinely taking effect!"
Allen's voice brimmed with shock, mingled with a trace of fear. He turned to look