The Slayer was traversing Abyss Layer 4 — "Thorn Demon Forest."

  Every tree in this forest was alive. Their bark was as hard as iron, their branches covered in poisonous barbs, capable of lashing out like tentacles to attack passing creatures.

  But right now, this treacherous forest was unusually quiet. One might even say... cowardly.

  The Slayer walked slowly.

  Not because the path was difficult, but because of the Tiger Soul Chainsaw hanging at his waist.

  *Vrrrm... Vrrrm...*

  The chainsaw emitted a low, idling sound from time to time, somewhere between an engine in neutral and a beast snoring. It was filled with restless agitation.

  Whenever a reckless thorny vine tried to creep closer from the roadside, before the Slayer could even react, the chainsaw at his waist would jerk violently.

  *SNAP!*

  The chainsaw would pop up automatically, teeth accelerating instantly to sever the vine with surgical precision. It would then shake off the non-existent saliva (actually tree sap) with disdain and drop back against the Slayer's thigh.

  This saw's Aggression Level was off the charts.

  It was like a hound fresh out of the cage, hostile to everything around it. A rock in the way? Cut it. A branch blocking the view? Saw it. It would even rev a couple of times at the sound of wind blowing through leaves, just to assert dominance.

  The Slayer had to reach down occasionally to pat its chassis.

  *Pat, pat.*

  This wasn't punishment; it was soothing.

  Whenever the Slayer's palm touched the casing, the chainsaw's manic vibration would calm slightly, emitting a submissive "purring" sound.

  If any other demon saw this, their jaw would drop: The man known in Abyssal legends as the "Incarnation of Destruction" appeared to be... walking a dog? And the dog was a chainsaw ready to bite anything that moved.

  Singularity's drone trailed behind, maintaining a strict safety distance (at least ten meters).

  "Slayer..." Singularity's voice came through the speaker, laced with caution. "Is this saw's AI logic a bit... overboard? It keeps swiveling to stare at my lens. That look... even though it has no eyes, I feel like it wants to bite me."

  As soon as the words left the speaker...

  *ROAR!*

  The chainsaw at the Slayer's waist suddenly spun around without warning. The teeth pointed directly at the drone, letting out a fierce, metallic roar.

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  The drone jerked back in fright, nearly crashing into a demon tree.

  "Whoa! It really wants to bite me! Slayer, control it! This is the latest recon model, it's expensive!"

  The Slayer placed his hand on the chainsaw to hold it steady.

  He didn't blame it. On the contrary, his fingers gently caressed the rough handle.

  He felt that anger.

  This saw was just like him—it hated anything flying in the air, buzzing, and chattering endlessly. Whether it was a fly, a drone, or a nagging Daoist.

  It was expressing his dissatisfaction.

  It was maintaining his peace and quiet.

  The Slayer unhooked it from his belt and carried it in his hand.

  There was no battle.

  He simply carried it, like holding a pet carrier or leading an invisible leash, strolling through the thorny jungle.

  Occasionally, he would deliberately bring the saw close to a hard piece of obsidian by the road, letting the teeth gently graze the stone surface.

  *Zzzzt—*

  Sparks flew.

  The chainsaw trembled with excitement—it was teething.

  Or, when they passed a steaming magma pool, the Slayer would dip the blade into the boiling lava and swish it around.

  *Hiss—*

  The lava vaporized instantly. The tiger-stripe patterns on the chassis glowed red from the heat, like a giant cat glowing with contentment after being petted.

  It was a bizarre, yet incredibly harmonious relationship.

  In this Abyss filled with hostility and nothing but slaughter, this saw became the only thing the Slayer could "communicate" with.

  This communication required no words, no complex commands.

  It only needed vibration, roaring, and that shared intent to kill.

  It was the perfect pet. It didn't need cat food; it only ate demon flesh and blood. It didn't need a litter box; it only made corpses.

  Suddenly.

  From deep within the dense forest came the sound of heavy, clustered footsteps. And the distinct sound of bones being crushed.

  A pack of "Hell Knights" was hunting down a few straggling Spirit Folk slaves.

  "Help... stay back..."

  The screams of the Spirit Folk echoed through the trees.

  The Slayer stopped.

  He didn't draw a gun. He didn't even unlimber the BFG from his back.

  He simply raised the chainsaw in his hand.

  He didn't need to press the switch.

  The chainsaw sensed the killing intent ahead, sensed that disgusting stench of demons.

  *HUMMMMMM——————!!!*

  The engine instantly hit max RPM, emitting a scream like a jet taking off. The white light on the teeth exploded in intensity—that was the hunger to "feed," the urge to "shred."

  The Slayer released one hand, holding the handle with a single grip.

  He pointed it forward, toward the thickest cluster of demons.

  He made a simple gesture, something like "Go get 'em."

  The chainsaw dragged his arm, launching forward like an arrow from a bow—moving even faster than the Slayer's own sprint speed.

  [Iron Blood vs. Tenderness]

  To an outsider, this was still a brutal, bloody massacre. The Slayer was like a tiger among sheep, limbs flying everywhere he passed.

  But in the Slayer's eyes, the nature of this event had changed completely.

  He wasn't working.

  He was "feeding."

  He watched the chainsaw happily slice open a Hell Knight's chest, watched it greedily absorb the energy orbs bursting from the corpse, watched it tremble with over-excitement.

  Under the Slayer's helmet, the corner of his mouth—usually tight and cold as iron—curved up slightly once again.

  It was the relief of an old father watching his kid eat a hearty meal.

  *Good boy. Eat up.*

  Right in this heartwarming (?) moment, a yellow warning window suddenly popped up on the Slayer's HUD.

  [WARNING: Environmental Adaptability Dropping.]

  [Praetor Suit Status: Rejection Reaction Detected.]

  It wasn't damaged. The Praetor Suit was indestructible.

  But this suit of high-tech armor from the Maykrs seemed to be developing... acclimatization issues with the chaotic laws of the Abyss.

  It was resisting the energy here; it was rejecting the air here. Its shield recharge rate was slowing, and its servos were becoming sluggish.

  The Slayer frowned.

  He allowed nothing to impact his efficiency.

  Not even this god-tier gear.

  *Next Chapter: Stagnation of the Praetor Suit. The saw has a soul, but the Slayer's armor is starting to throw a tantrum. Singularity decides... to use Abyssal biological materials to give this high-tech suit a little "local modification"?