Ota's heart sank to the bottom.
Although their group's power armor was equipped with a full set of combat systems, in front of the King of Angels, they were like infants wielding wooden sticks.
"Have you become a member of the Ouroboros too, Mr. Justice?"
Ota struggled to lift the turret, speaking in a rough voice.
The atmosphere in the casino suddenly turned icy cold.
The gamblers froze in place, as they watched the old man leisurely sip the spicy liquor, then tense his face toward everyone:
"Bullshit!"
He said sharply, "You muscle-brained brat, your words are really unpleasant. Who would want to join that stench of (birds chirping and flowers blooming)?"
Ota was stunned, sprayed too much to dare retort.
He shielded his team, cautiously saying, "Then why have you dragged us into the realm of justice?"
"Ah, when will young people realize that the elderly need companionship?"
