The demon instantly knew he had made a mistake
in writing off the guns as useless tools made by human
hands. Just before the bullets tore through it, he knew his
black armor would prove useless. The impacts shattered
the suit, creating a network of spidery cracks across its
surface.
“Impossible!” Gilver howled.
The cracks began to glow.
“Jackpot!” spat Dante.
“But you've lost! I've wo–ugh... Argh!”
Gilver's armor exploded. The bullets chewed
away at his exposed body, gouging black holes in his
flesh. And then Gilver saw it clearly. Something within
the bullets themselves.
He saw a flash of Goldstein's leathery face – of
Grue's angry expression. An unnatural fear iced over his
mind. Something inside him blew apart, smashing his
body into the ceiling. He fell violently back to the
ground.
The bullets continued on beyond him, punching
through the demonic world's wall.
Gilver's head lolled uselessly. Black fluid gushed
from his wounds. The coruscating remains of his armor
glittered in pieces on the floor around him.