Tears of blood streaming, the hoodlum covered his face with both hands and wailed, his face turned skyward.
Lifting the handle, swinging around, Leon held the sword slantwise, using the frontal "Fake Cross" stance to meet the enemy on his left, now distanced by his footwork.
However, the once fierce-looking hoodlum was now retreating in sheer terror.
It took merely a breath's time.
All his companions who had surrounded the youth lay defeated.
One lay still on the ground with stiff legs, life and death unknown.
Another rolled on the ground, screeching in agony, as if mourning the death of a mother.
Holding the iron-headed club, the hoodlum's legs went soft, feeling no comfort from the weapon, "Are... are... are you guys really Knights?"
Leon cocked his head and simply smiled.
He understood why the Knight he had headshot before had felt no excitement in dealing with him.
