As if to roar against the Church's tyranny, against Belle's firm stance, against all the gloom brought by unreasonableness, the youth let out a beastly howl.
The faces of the Purifiers remained lifeless, but for a moment, Charles felt their movements stiffen.
Roland fiercely kicked off the ground, lunging at the nearest Purifier who, fearing the power of the Beam Saber, backed away at full speed, but it was already too late.
With a swish, the Battle Wheel split in two, the Purifier clumsily tossed aside the glowing metal pieces, and as he tried to pull out a new Battle Wheel, his abdomen took a heavy kick. The Purifier flew backward, slammed into a wall with a ping, and let out a mournful cry before he stopped moving. The remaining three, fixating on the youth's exposed back, were about to hurl their Battle Wheels at Roland.
They were certain of their victory.
They were so confident when an incredulous phrase entered their ears at that very moment.
"Sorry."
