Faced with the bald man's ridicule, the nun's face went pale, then flushed with anger. She wanted to retort, but the words caught in her throat. She bit her lip in frustration.
But in that instant—
Whoosh!
The sharp crack of snapping fabric echoed through the clearing!
A tall, black figure exploded from the shadows, lunging straight at the Rifleman!
A flash of silver.
The Rifleman didn't even have time to scream before blood sprayed into the air and he collapsed. The Winchester Model 1894 flew from his hands.
...
...
While the bald man had been busy terrorizing the nun, Leo had been counting.
One rifle. Four semi-automatics. Two revolvers. Three knives. Three baseball bats.
With the gang's attention fixated on their prey, they had handed Leo the perfect opening.
From the start, Leo's plan was simple: wipe out Los Lobos.
Partly for the XP—roleplaying the "Paladin" who smites evil and the "Vigilante" who saves the innocent.
But mostly, because he wanted to.
Watching scum torment the innocent right in front of him? Leo refused to stand by.
Seven guns out of thirteen men. Those seven were the priority.
Fighting guns with a sword was disadvantageous.
Leo's eyes locked onto the Rifleman. Or rather, the Winchester in his hands.
If I grab that rifle, my [Lever-Action Rifle Mastery (Lv. A)] turns this from a fight into a slaughter.
Silent as a ghost, he moved into position.
He took a deep breath, expelling the stale air from his lungs, and whispered a verse from the Scripture, audible only to himself:
"Take heed, regard not iniquity: for this hast thou chosen rather than affliction."
"And in thy majesty ride prosperously because of truth and meekness and righteousness; and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things."
The moment the words left his lips... he moved.
He lowered his stance and launched himself forward like a whirlwind!
Target: The Rifleman.
Left hand on the scabbard. Right hand on the hilt. Using the momentum of his sprint and the centrifugal force of the draw—
Shing!
The blade traced a silver fan in the air, cutting through the Rifleman's torso.
The gangster's eyes bulged in disbelief. He gurgled blood, his limbs going limp instantly. The rifle slipped from his grasp.
In the split second the gun was airborne, Leo's left hand shot out and snatched it.
It was the first time he had ever held a lever-action rifle. Yet, the moment his palm touched the wood and steel, a wave of familiarity washed over him.
It felt like an extension of his own body. He knew every grain of the wood, every tension in the spring.
[Lever-Action Rifle Mastery (Lv. A)] was online.
Leo stood there—Winchester in his left hand, General Qi's Saber in his right. A dual-wielder of a new, violent age.
"Sister! Get down!"
The nun froze for a heartbeat, then obeyed instinctively, dropping to the ground and curling into a ball like a frightened rabbit.
As he shouted the warning, Leo didn't stop moving. He spun the rifle in his left hand, leveling the barrel at a gangster holding a semi-automatic pistol.
Bang!
The bullet tore through the night, drilling a neat hole directly between the man's eyebrows.
Before the casing even hit the ground, Leo flicked his wrist. Using the trigger guard as a pivot, he spun the entire rifle 360 degrees around his hand.
Clack-chk!
The lever cycled. The spent shell ejected. A fresh round chambered.
The Terminator Flip.
He had cocked the lever-action rifle with one hand. The motion was fluid, practiced, and just as fast as using two hands.
A rifle that could be operated one-handed... the perfect companion for a swordsman.
Leo's sudden appearance and the instant death of two comrades left the bald leader and his men stunned.
Their brains struggled to process the ambush. But Leo's bullets and blade waited for no one.
The only thing clear to them was: Kill him.
The bald leader's face turned purple with rage, veins bulging in his eyes.
"Fuck! Kill him! Kill him!"
He raised his revolver and aimed at Leo.
The remaining gunmen—two with revolvers, three with semi-automatics—followed suit, raising their weapons and pulling their triggers in a panic.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets shredded the air, creating a wall of lead aimed squarely at Leo.
In their minds, Leo was already a corpse, riddled with holes.
In reality?
The moment before they fired, Leo narrowed his eyes.
[Bullet Time (Lv. B)] — Activate.
The world slowed down.
The frantic jerking of their trigger fingers. The muzzle flashes blossoming like slow-motion flowers. The rotation of the bullets cutting through the air.
Leo saw it all. Crystal clear.
Ten seconds of duration. Twenty seconds of cooldown.
Ten seconds... is more than enough.
With the trajectories visible, Leo moved. He didn't scramble. He didn't dive. He simply... stepped.
He side-stepped, twisted his torso, and tilted his head with the grace of a dancer, letting the bullets hiss harmlessly past him by mere inches.
The gang members watched, jaws dropping, their minds shattering.
"Fuck! How is that possible?!"
"Why can't I hit him?!"
"He's not human! He's a monster!"
While they stood paralyzed by the impossible, the Reaper raised his scythe.
Leo didn't just dodge. As he weaved through the bullet storm, he memorized their positions. He raised the Winchester in his left hand.
Bang! (Cycle) Bang! (Cycle) Bang! (Cycle) Bang!
Shoot. Spin-cock. Shoot. Spin-cock.
It was rhythmic. Hypnotic.
He was using an aimbot. Once his eyes locked onto a target, his arm adjusted automatically.
Accuracy: 100%.