The cat and mouse game continued – the fat aristocrats riding muscular guards that were already struggling under their weight. They had already fired an uncountable number of rounds.
The mercenary who was singled out was still scurrying around, trying to avoid the shots of the rich businessmen. He was sweating profusely, his eyes were blurry, it seemed that he was starting to lose consciousness, the only thing that drove him to continue running was his instinct to survive.
It was unknown if it was intentional or not, but none of the bullets hit him, so the game continued.
Benjamin could not bear to continue watching.
How bad was their marksmanship? They managed to miss every single one of their shots. If a group of mercenaries who specialized in firearms watched that scene, they would probably be vomiting blood out of frustration.
