The thin leader and his crew exchanged a look, and then, as if on cue, they all burst into laughter.
"I thought you were going to pull out a rifle!" The tall one cackled. "Turns out it's just a knife!"
"Figures!" The fat one sneered. "These bugs are still living in the stone age! Civilization has moved on, Ching-chong, and you're still swinging around scrap metal!"
"Damn it," the short one spat. "I wish I hadn't pawned my pistol. I'd love to show this insect what a real weapon looks like!"
"Hey! Bug!" The thin leader shouted, his voice dripping with condescension. "Before you try to be a hero, open those squinty eyes and count! There are four of us!"
As he mocked Leo, he raised his hands to his temples and pulled the corners of his eyes back into slits—a gesture of undisguised, raw racism.
Leo had drawn his blade, but it hadn't deterred them in the slightest.
The numbers game gave them confidence. Four against one... in their minds, the odds were overwhelmingly in their favor.
The old veteran looked at Leo, then back at the four thugs. His face set into a grim mask of determination.
"...Listen, son... or Father, whatever you are. Run. Get out of here. I'll hold these bastards off. You're young. Don't throw your life away for a cripple."
The fat thug heard this and let out a theatrical guffaw.
"Hey! You hear that boys? The legless wonder thinks he can take us all on!"
Another wave of laughter washed over them.
The veteran ignored their jeers, his knuckles white as he gripped his cane.
Suddenly, a hand reached out, barring the veteran's path.
"Old timer, I appreciate the sentiment."
Leo gestured for the veteran to sit back down. "But please, take a seat."
Then, his voice dropped an octave, resonating with a cold, rhythmic cadence as he began to recite from the Scripture once more:
"Gird your sword on your side, you mighty one; clothe yourself with splendor and majesty."
"But those who seek my life to destroy it shall go into the lower parts of the earth. They shall fall by the sword; they shall be a portion for foxes."
Leo's chanting wiped the smile off the thin leader's face.
"Hmph. Just a bug miming human words! You think putting on a costume makes you a real priest? Boys! Get him! Teach this freak a lesson!"
At his command, the four men surged forward like a collapsing wall, rushing Leo.
But they were a mob, not a squad. There was no coordination.
The tall thug, eager for blood, sprinted too far ahead. The thin leader hung back.
Seeing the tall man isolate himself, the corner of Leo's mouth twitched upward in a dark, knowing smile.
The tall thug frowned, confused by the reaction. "Hey, bug! What's so funny?"
Leo locked eyes with him. His gaze was an abyss.
"Dead men talking."
In the fraction of a second that followed those words—
Whoosh!
The hem of the cassock snapped in the wind like a war banner.
Leo launched himself forward like a swallow in flight. His right arm, coiled like a loaded spring, exploded into motion.
Draw.
In a blur of motion, the blade cleared the scabbard, tracing a lethal, beautiful arc through the air.
The tall thug never even saw it coming.
He saw a flash of "silver snake" leaping from the sheath, a blinding white light that filled his vision—
Shing!
The blade swept diagonally through him.
For a moment, it was as if time had frozen. The tall thug stood rigid.
A second later, as Leo glided past him, there was a wet, sliding sound. The thug's body lost its structural integrity.
His legs remained standing. His torso did not. It slid slowly off his hips along a perfect, gruesome cut line, hitting the wet earth with a heavy thud.
With one stroke, the tall man was gone. Leo pivoted instantly to face the fat and short thugs.
He didn't pause. He became a phantom, his body low to the ground, moving with a speed that defied belief.
The brutal death of their friend shattered the confidence of the remaining three.
Seeing Leo rushing them, the fat and short thugs shrieked in panic, swinging their bats wildly at the approaching blur.
But they were swinging at a ghost. Leo was already gone.
By the time his form solidified again, he was behind them. The air behind him shimmered with the afterimage of two sword strokes.
Leo didn't even look back. He turned his gaze solely on the thin leader.
Behind him, the fat and short thugs collapsed simultaneously, blood spraying into the air like fountains.
Five seconds.
That was all it took. Five seconds ago, there were four attackers. Now, only the thin leader remained standing. His eyes were wide saucers, his face drained of all color, contorted in absolute horror.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
This time, Leo didn't sprint. He walked. Slow. Deliberate. Each footfall on the wet ground sounded like the ticking of a doomsday clock.
To the thin man, it was the sound of the Reaper approaching.
"D-Don't! Don't come any closer!!"
The thin man clutched his baseball bat with white-knuckled desperation, holding it out like a shield. It shook violently in his hands.
Leo ignored the warning. His expression was a blank slate as he closed the distance.
"Goddamn bug!!"
Terrified and cornered, the thin man raised the bat high over his head, screaming as he prepared to bring it down on Leo's skull.
It was a powerful stance, but it left his ribs wide open.
In a flash, Leo dropped his center of gravity and lunged. He aimed for the exposed left armpit.
He was faster than the swing. Much faster.
Before the bat could descend, Leo flashed past the man's left side. As they crossed, Leo pressed the edge of his saber against the man's left thigh and, using the momentum of his sprint, sliced upward from hilt to tip.
Shing!
The blade sang. Flesh parted.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
The thin man collapsed, clutching the clean stump of his left leg, screaming in agony.
But the scream died in his throat.
Because Leo was walking back towards him.
Driven by pure survival instinct, the thin man groveled, his face twisted into a mask of pathetic submission.
"Bug... No! No, no! Sir! Gentleman! Please! Spare me! Don't kill me! We didn't mean any harm..."
Swish!
Leo didn't speak. He simply flicked his wrist, whipping the blood off his blade with a sharp crack.
The flash of silver silenced the thin man instantly. He choked on his words, shoulders hunching as if anticipating the blow.
"I'm sorry, did I interrupt you?" Leo asked politely. "I didn't mean to. Please, continue. You were saying, 'We didn't mean any harm'?"
The thin man trembled uncontrollably, too terrified to speak.
"What? Finished already? Good. Then it's my turn."
Leo stepped closer, towering over the fallen man. His shadow stretched long and dark over the thug's body.
"What do I look like?"
The thin man blinked, confusion breaking through the pain.
"W-What?"
Point.
Leo raised the saber, resting the cold steel tip gently against the man's nose.
"Where are you from?"
The thin man shook harder. "What?"
"What ain't no country I ever heard of! Do they speak English in What?"
The thin man was on the verge of a breakdown, his brain short-circuiting. He stared blankly. "W-What?"
"ENGLISH, MOTHERFUCKER! DO YOU SPEAK IT?!"
Leo roared, his voice like thunder. The blade pressed forward, pricking the skin of the nose.
The thin man jumped, his mind jolted back to reality by the pain and the shout. He stammered frantically:
"Y-You're Asian! You have b-black hair! Dark eyes! Very young! Very tall! Very handsome!"
He vomited out every compliment his panic-stricken brain could muster.
Leo cut him off cold. "Do I look like a bitch?"
"W-What?"
Slice.
With a casual flick of his wrist, Leo shaved the tip of the man's nose off.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
A fresh wave of screaming tore through the air.
Leo ignored it. He leaned in, enunciating every syllable.
"DO. I. LOOK. LIKE. A. BITCH?"
The thin man didn't dare hesitate. Through the blood and tears, he screamed back:
"NO! NO!"
"Then why did you call me a 'Bug'? Why did you pull your eyes back at me?"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'll never discriminate against the Chinese again! I swear to God!"
"Answer me this. How many Chinese people have you killed?"
Hesitation flickered in the thin man's eyes. But the blade was still there, thirsty.
"Four... no, fifteen! Eight men! Seven women!"
"Fifteen... That is quite the number." Leo nodded slowly. "You said you read the Bible?"
The thin man nodded furiously, pathetic and terrified. "Y-Yes..."
"There's a passage I got memorized. Seems appropriate for this situation. Ezekiel 25:17."
Leo straightened up, his voice taking on the weight of judgment.
"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men."
"Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness."
"For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children."
"And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers."
"And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!"
As the final word left his lips, the blade fell.
The thin man screamed—a sound of pure terror that cut off abruptly with a wet crunch.
Silence returned to the roadside.
[Ding! Recited Scripture before combat; Executed evil-doers. Roleplay Success: "Paladin"]
["Paladin" Proficiency: 86% -> 101%]
["Paladin" Level Up! Lv.1 -> Lv.2]
["Paladin" Current Proficiency: 1%]
[New Role Unlocked: Vigilante]
[New Skill Acquired: Bullet Time (Lv. B)]
[Skill Description: Grants superior observation and reaction speed, allowing you to see bullet trajectories and timing. Duration: 10 seconds. Cooldown: 20 seconds. Only effective against projectiles slower than 600m/s. Melee attacks are not affected.]
The veteran sat frozen, staring slack-jawed at Leo's back.
"Are... are you... are you really a priest?"
The young man in the cassock, holding a dripping sword, turned slowly.
A gust of wind caught his robes, snapping the black fabric loudly.
Backlit by the grey sky, his face was in shadow, but his smile was unmistakable.
"Of course I'm a priest. I just belong to a more... proactive denomination."
The veteran looked at the scattered body parts and gulped.
"Don't you mean 'violent' denomination?"