One by one, every gang member holding a firearm was executed by Leo's precision shots. Headshots, all of them. No exceptions.
Leo had deliberately saved the bald leader for last.
When he finally swung the muzzle toward the leader, the bald man's pupils contracted. His reaction was surprisingly fast—he threw himself to the ground in a desperate roll.
But he was still half a beat too slow.
The bullet missed his head but tore through his right arm.
"AAAAAHHHHH!"
He let out a bloodcurdling scream as his revolver clattered to the asphalt.
Leo intended to put a final round in the man's skull. He spun the rifle one last time to chamber a round.
Click.
Silence. No round entered the chamber.
The Winchester held exactly six rounds. After neutralizing the six gunmen, the magazine was empty.
Suddenly, excited shouts erupted around him:
"He's out of ammo!"
"Get him! Now! Kill him!"
"Rush him! All together!"
The remaining Los Lobos—three with knives, three with baseball bats—howled as they charged Leo.
When Leo had a gun, these "melee minions" had been cowering in fear. Now that his rifle clicked empty, they suddenly transformed into fearless warriors.
It was true. Leo was out of ammo.
But they had forgotten one crucial detail.
Leo still held a sword in his right hand.
The six men formed a circle, attempting to surround him.
Leo's wolf-like gaze swept across them, marking the position of every enemy.
In the next instant, explosive power detonated from his limbs. The blade followed the wrist, unleashing a torrent of violence.
Slash.
He cut down the first attacker on his right with a single downward stroke.
Spin.
Using his left foot as a pivot, he whirled like a top. The hem of his cassock flared out in a perfect black fan. Driven by centrifugal force, [Vajra] decapitated the second attacker.
Retract.
As he pulled the blade back, the third man fell.
Dodge.
The fourth man lunged with a dagger. Leo dropped low, effortlessly ducking under the thrust.
But the dodge was a trap. As he dipped, he reversed the grip on his sword and thrust upward, driving the point through the fourth man's throat.
Strike.
The fifth and sixth men raised their baseball bats, swinging for Leo's head from both sides.
They were fast.
Leo was faster.
Shing!
[Vajra] whistled through the air, tearing open their stomachs before their bats could even descend.
Six flashes of silver light. Six bodies hitting the ground. The circle was broken.
Leo flicked the blood off his blade and scanned for the bald leader.
He spotted him crawling toward a discarded gun with his good left hand.
Running over there... too slow.
Leo chose a more efficient method. He flipped [Vajra] into a reverse grip and hurled it like a javelin.
The sword became a blur, a meteor of black steel.
Thunk!
It pierced the bald man's left shoulder, pinning him to the ground like an insect.
"GAAAAAAH!"
The scream was weaker this time.
Shot in the right arm. Stabbed through the left shoulder. The pain was overwhelming. The bald leader lost all will to fight, collapsing into a twitching heap of flesh.
Leo walked over leisurely.
He dropped the empty Winchester and scooped up a semi-automatic pistol from the ground—a Colt M1911.
Clack.
He racked the slide, confirming it was loaded.
The bald man, face slick with cold sweat, tried to inch backward, away from the demon in priest's clothing.
"W-Wait! Wait! Pal, buddy! Who are you? You got the wrong guy! I don't remember offending any bugs... No! No! Any Chinese gentlemen!"
He begged desperately, but his limited vocabulary and shattered mind turned him into a broken record.
Leo ignored the pleading.
He stood over the man, raised the M1911, and aimed at his forehead.
"Pull your collar down."
"W-What?"
"Why do you people always ask 'What'? Do what I say. Don't make me repeat myself. Pull. Your. Collar. Down."
"U-Understood!"
Trembling, the bald man yanked down his popped collar.
Leo leaned in.
There was a tattoo on the right side of his neck. It was red.
But it wasn't a skull. It was a spider.
"My apologies. I have the wrong person."
Leo said the words, but his tone held zero apology.
He didn't lower the gun. The black muzzle remained fixed on the man's skull.
Having delivered his "apology," Leo squinted his left eye, aligning the sights perfectly with his right eye.
The bald man realized what was happening. His terror peaked, turning into hysterical madness.
"Y-You! This is a hate crime! Racism is illegal! Do you see this?! I'm Mexican! I'm white! You can't discriminate against me! Look at my skin! It's white! You can't do this..."
Bang! Bang!
Leo didn't hesitate. He pulled the trigger twice.
The first shot was to kill him.
The second shot was to make sure.
Smoke drifted from the barrel. Leo lowered the gun, his face an emotionless mask.
"I don't discriminate. I exterminate all evil equally. May your soul sink into Hell, suffer every torture, and never find forgiveness. In the name of the Lord, Amen."
Bang!
Suddenly, Leo raised the gun and fired a third shot into the corpse's head.
That one was to ensure he stayed in Hell.
[Ding! Recited Scripture before combat; Annihilated a criminal gang. Roleplay Success: "Paladin"]
["Paladin" Proficiency: 1% -> 21%]
[Ding! Eliminated a threat to the people; Rescued a damsel in distress. Roleplay Success: "Vigilante"]
["Vigilante" Proficiency: 0% -> 10%]
...
...
The nun sat paralyzed on the ground, staring up at the young priest.
He dropped the gun and pulled his long sword from the corpse.
At that moment, the thick clouds that had choked the sky all night finally parted. The full moon emerged, clear and brilliant.
Pale blue moonlight poured down from the heavens, illuminating her and the priest.
The priest turned slowly, smiling gently at her.
"Good evening, Sister."
He stood there, sword in hand, bathed in moonlight.
If God truly exists in this world, the nun thought, trembling, He must look something like this.