The moment Luke stepped out of the alley—
He saw another group charging straight toward him.
Every one of them carried MP7 submachine guns, their killing intent unmistakable.
They spotted him instantly.
"That's him! Kill the dwarf!" someone shouted.
Without hesitation—
They opened fire.
A storm of bullets tore through the air, raining down on Luke from all directions.
"Shit—"
Luke instantly raised a Nen Energy Shield, then darted toward nearby cover. His small body moved with explosive speed as he dove behind a large metal dumpster.
"Luke! Destroy these filthy humans who dare offend a great Apostle!!" Rost screamed excitedly.
Under the overwhelming barrage of over a dozen submachine guns—
The shield held for only a few seconds before flickering and shattering.
Bullets continued to slam into the metal dumpster behind him, erupting into a constant barrage of sharp metallic impacts right next to his ears.
To be safe—
Luke immediately raised another shield around himself.
Then, from his storage space—
He pulled out an electrified grenade.
Activating it, he swung his arm and casually tossed it outward—without even looking.
The glowing vial rolled across the ground and landed near the gunmen.
Unlike the previous attackers—
These men were clearly better trained.
Even in the dark, they sensed danger instantly.
"Grenade!! Get down!!"
BOOM—
The explosion erupted.
A burst of electric light flashed like a camera strobe, briefly illuminating the entire block.
This was a typical Hell's Kitchen street—
Cluttered debris, graffiti-covered apartment buildings, rusted fire escapes hanging precariously, and a few battered cars parked below.
The explosion shattered the lower windows of a nearby building instantly—
Glass rained down everywhere.
Car alarms began screaming all at once.
From within the smoke—
Came the agonized screams of those who failed to escape.
As for those closest to the blast—
They were simply gone.
The entire block descended into chaos.
"Fuck! Open fire! Open fire!!"
Before the smoke even cleared—
The gunmen resumed shooting.
Gunfire crackled endlessly, waking the entire neighborhood.
Residents, jolted awake, trembled in fear, hiding wherever they could, unsure what nightmare was unfolding outside.
Bathed in gunfire—
Luke didn't hesitate.
He tossed out another grenade.
"Fuck! Grenade—MOVE—!"
BOOM—
Less than ten seconds after the first explosion—
A second blast rocked the district.
The flash lit up the street like lightning.
Another building's windows—first through fifth floor—
Shattered instantly.
Car alarms screamed louder.
The surviving gunmen scrambled back up—
Covered in dust, disoriented.
Some hid behind dumpsters, hands shaking as they reloaded.
Others crouched behind cars, clutching bleeding wounds.
Many more—
Never got back up.
Every survivor now had fear in their eyes.
Their opponent—
Was insane.
Who the hell carries grenades around like this?
Compared to him—
They, armed with submachine guns, suddenly felt… civilized.
At least they weren't trying to blow up the entire block.
Gunfire and shouting mixed together.
Some gunmen signaled to each other—
Two of them crouched low, attempting to flank from the side under cover of darkness.
They hid behind a dumpster, preparing to ambush Luke.
Unfortunately for them—
Rost saw everything.
In the darkness, Rost's vision was as clear as daylight.
"Two over there! Kill them! Kill them!!"
Luke was already alert.
The moment he noticed movement—
He threw another grenade straight at them.
The two gunmen instantly ducked back behind the dumpster, refusing to peek out again.
Luke smirked.
A flash—
BOOM.
The dumpster remained intact—
But the two men behind it convulsed violently, electricity surging through their bodies.
Moments later—
They dropped dead.
"Ever heard of metal conducting electricity?" Luke muttered.
The distant gunmen froze.
What kind of grenade was that?
An electric one?!
Was this some new Stark Industries prototype?!
No one dared move forward anymore.
In less than three minutes—
Out of more than a dozen attackers—
Ten were already down.
Fewer than five remained.
One of them, trembling, pulled out a phone.
"Send backup! Heavy weapons! I repeat, heavy weapons!"
A voice asked, "How many enemies?"
"I don't—oh shit—!"
Another grenade exploded nearby—
Blasting two men and a car into scrap.
The caller picked up his phone again, screaming:
"HEAVY FIREPOWER! We're pinned down! Send reinforcements NOW!"
The reply came quickly:
"Hold your position! Backup is on the way!"
While waiting—
The remaining two gunmen stayed hidden, occasionally firing blindly from cover.
Luke, shield active, now had complete control.
He stood up—
Assessed the situation—
Then casually pulled out two grenades.
One in each hand.
And threw both.
Missing didn't matter.
They were homemade anyway.
The gunmen, however—
Were absolutely terrified.
This wasn't a gang fight anymore.
This felt like war.
Like being Afghan militia—
Pinned down by U.S. military firepower.
Peek out—grenade.
Don't peek—two grenades.
There was no winning this.
When reinforcements finally arrived—
Luke was still happily tossing grenades left and right.
Not a single intact window remained on the street.
Two vans screeched to a halt—
A large group of armed gang members poured out.
But—
Before they even found their target—
An electrified grenade rolled to their feet.
"GRENADE—GET DOWN—!!"
BOOM—
"Open fire! Kill that bastard!!"
Their firepower was even heavier than before.
But Luke—
Stood firm behind his shield.
Grenades flew from his hands in smooth arcs, lighting up the night.
Explosions flashed like lightning—
The ground trembled.
The vans were destroyed instantly—
Fuel tanks detonated—
Massive secondary explosions followed.
Flames shot into the sky.
Screams filled the air.
The gang members scattered in panic, desperately calling for more backup:
"Reinforcements! Reinforcements! The enemy has HEAVY WEAPONS! There are at least TEN of them! We can't hold—oh fuck—!"
"Ten people?"
Luke tossed two more grenades.
"Not even close."
More explosions.
More chaos.
The entire street had become—
A thunderous hell.