"Damn, how could this happen..."
The gunman gritted his teeth, using all his strength. Veins stood out on his forehead, sweat in beads from the heat, and his face became flushed, but all to no avail.
He looked at the three who were getting closer. Shockingly, he saw the man in the white overcoat reach out his empty left hand, slightly claw-shaped.
"Such weak humans, they're unable to even resist basic telekinesis. It's no wonder they can't beat that group of damn biochemical humans, and had to ask us from the Mentalist Association for help…"
Just as the words fell, the man in white swung his arms to his sides. The air instantly rippled, as if two invisible giant hands separated the four or five gunmen blocking the doorway. Their feet mysteriously shifted on the ground, maintaining their rigid postures.
It's just like they're gliding as if wearing ice skates on a rink.
Suddenly, a path leading to the interior of the manor was cleared.
