Inside the manor.
The solar lamps that had provided illumination had already been smashed and extinguished by hidden weapons from who knew where. Shadows fought fiercely in the darkness against Heretics who knew only basic Combat Arts.
The shadows were all heroes of the Hero League, yet despite their roughly equal numbers and superior average strength, they still could not take down the hundred-plus Heretics before them.
The faces of the few people leading the team were exceedingly grim.
Machine guns rattled in continuous bursts, and the occasional grenade traced an arc through the air before exploding with a thunderous boom.
The Heretics had no fear of friendly fire. They were all carefully selected Holy Disciples. Even if their heads were blown apart, they only needed to lie on the ground and rest for a while before recovering and standing up again.
It was an utterly horrifying regenerative ability. It could no longer be called recovery; it should have been called immortality.
These Holy Disciples practically had no concept of vital points. They wielded firearms and could spray bullets in every direction without concern. It did not matter if they hit their own companions—the bullets would be expelled on their own, and wounds would heal completely in less than a second.
This self-mutilating style of combat, combined with ample stockpiles of weaponry, made the Hero Association's people fight with extreme difficulty.
In just ten minutes, they had lost more than a dozen people. Though all were low-ranking members, it still enraged the several team leaders.
Unless these Holy Disciples had both their heads and bodies completely blown apart and separated for over three minutes, they would not die. Otherwise, given enough time, they could simply reattach their own heads. They had practically become monsters!
Fortunately, reinforcements soon entered the manor