A dull thud echoed through the empty underground corridor.
Richard's body collapsed limply. He didn't even have time to let out a muffled groan before he completely lost consciousness.
Russell didn't spare him a second glance, instead casting his gaze forward once more.
The smoke dissipated, revealing the panicked figures of the bandits.
"Damn it, what the hell is going on?!" one of the bandits cursed, then looked up toward Richard's position.
"He's over there!"
"Turn him into a sieve!"
The instant the voice fell, the muzzles of several pistols aimed in unison at Russell's position.
However, just as the triggers were pulled, that familiar, irritating black smoke spread out once again.
A Saint is never defeated by the same move twice.
But unfortunately, they were not Saints.
So this move worked every time!
Russell's figure vanished again. The bandits, clueless about the situation, simply fired blindly and frantically into the smoke, refusing to stop until their bullets were depleted and their barrels overheated.
The smell of smoke mixed with gunpowder, choking them until they could barely open their eyes.
The crisp sounds of slide locks engaging and metal magazines clattering to the ground rang out one after another.
The bandits scrambled to change magazines, their mouths ceaselessly cursing this tricky opponent before them.
In all their years of pulling off big jobs, this was the first time they had encountered such a bizarre guy.
Because Moriarty was not interested in gangsters, people in the underworld had only heard of him but never truly encountered him.
They all thought he was just a thief with slightly better skills than most.
Until today. Until now.
The smoke cleared, and there was no one in front of them—only the unconscious guards on the floor and bullet holes in the walls.
It was happening again.
They raised their reloaded weapons once more, gathering together and putting their backs against the storage room door behind them. They aimed at the front and surroundings, guarding against any corner where Russell might appear.
[The bandits have developed intense fear toward you. Malice Points +50]
Hearing the notification sound in his ear, the corners of Russell's mouth curled up slightly.
At this moment, he was in a position no one expected.
Inside that storage room door.
Although the door had been cracked open, the bandits had absolutely no intention of going inside to loot right now.
Likewise, they never imagined that someone could bypass all four of them right under their noses and enter the door behind them.
That kind of thing should be impossible!
But he did it!
The door behind them stood wide open, yet not a single person looked into the darkness behind them.
Until a small ball rolled out from the crack of the door, the sound appearing incredibly piercing in the silence.
In an instant, everyone's gaze shot over.
Then—
It was that familiar black smoke again.
Four Rams Bring Prosperity!
"Fucking hell!"
Accompanied by a furious curse, everyone instantly aimed their guns inside the door and poured out their firepower once more.
"How did that guy get in there?!"
"Who the fuck knows! Just hold the trigger down!"
[You have enraged the bandits. At this moment, they have converted their fear into anger. Malice Points +50]
Unknown moments later, the rain of bullets finally ceased.
The muzzles glowed a dull red from overheating, and scorching hot shell casings paved the ground beneath their feet.
The smoke gradually dissipated, revealing the gaping, bullet-riddled storage room door.
Inside the door was a deathly silence and darkness, like the bloody maw of a man-eating beast, swallowing all light and sound.
"Is... is he dead?" a bandit asked, his voice trembling slightly from tension and lack of oxygen.
"Who knows? Probably turned into meat paste."
Another bandit spat viciously, then threw a gas grenade inside before closing the door.
"Even if he's not dead, I don't believe he can hold his breath forever!"
"Are you looking for me?"
Just as the voice fell, a lazy, slightly mocking voice rang out from behind everyone.
The bandits whipped their heads around, not even having time to reload their weapons.
Immediately after, a black afterimage rapidly elongated and expanded in their field of vision.
—Blackout!
The cold metal body of the gun smashed heavily onto a skull, directly beating one of them into instant incapacitation.
"Damn it, where did he come from?!" one of the bandits shouted in terror, frantically digging into his pocket for a new magazine.
However, when he reached inside, he found his pocket empty.
Then, a hand extended in front of them, holding three fully loaded magazines.
"Looking for this?"
Russell said with a smile, and then, under the other party's bewildered gaze, he violently stuffed the magazines into the man's mouth.
"Giving them back to you. You're welcome."
Immediately following that, he clenched his right hand into a fist and punched fiercely at the man's abdomen.
This punch is named—Morning Calm!
The intense pain caused the man to subconsciously grit his teeth, his upper and lower jaws clamping dead tight onto the magazines in his mouth.
Then, he felt that the top of his head seemed to be pinned down.
Russell exerted force with his right hand to press down, while simultaneously driving his right knee violently upward.
"Agh—" Bang!
A dull impact sound, accompanied by the crisp crack of bone fracturing, seemed exceptionally piercing in the corridor filled with the smell of gunpowder.
The bandit's body seemed to have all its strength drained away; he fell limply backward, the magazines in his mouth dropping to the ground with a clatter, rolling out mixed with several broken teeth and blood foam.
[Fear and pain from Jack. Malice Points +40]
Russell slowly retracted his knee. Without even looking at the figure that had fallen like a puppet with cut strings, he simply cast his gaze toward the last two survivors.
"D... Devil..." one bandit's lips trembled as he subconsciously tried to retreat.
"No... don't come over!"
The other screamed like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
He raised the revolver with the empty cylinder in his hand, waving it wildly at Russell as if it were some talisman that could give him a sense of security.
"Who asked you to come and attack Lloyds Bank?"
Russell asked as he walked forward.
"You... you won't get anything out of my mouth!"
One of the bandits roared, then threw away the gun in his hand and charged fiercely at Russell.
However, Russell merely turned his body slightly, easily dodging the other's charge.
He raised the shotgun in his hand and swung it horizontally, like hitting a golf ball, smashing it directly onto the joint of the other's knee.
Crack!
Another tooth-aching sound of bone cracking.
[Despair and pain from Sam. Malice Points +40]
The bandit let out a miserable howl that didn't sound human. Losing his balance from the intense pain, his body fell forward uncontrollably.
Russell didn't give him any chance. He turned with the momentum, the shotgun in his hand acting like an iron rod. The barrel carried the sound of whistling wind as it smashed ruthlessly onto the back of the man's head.
"If you won't say it, then don't."
Bang!
One less member.
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