Inside the hotel room.
The mafia members were piled together in a disordered heap, their various firearms and weapons casually tossed aside.
At some point, the door had been shut, and even the people standing guard outside had been dragged in.
Wails of pain rose and fell throughout the room, mixed with curses and threats.
But Kevin clearly didn't care for any of that. He brought over a chair, placed it before them, and sat down with leisurely ease.
"You. Tell me what you came here for?" Kevin pointed at one of the mafia members.
"You're finished. Do you know who you've offended—" The Mafia Member who had been singled out threatened him viciously through tears and snot, but before he could finish, Kevin kicked him in the face.
The kick was incredibly forceful. The man's face instantly twisted out of shape, blood spraying everywhere. It was impossible to tell whether he was alive or dead.
"Seriously, can't you understand human speech? Do I have an accent?" Kevin muttered, then pointed at someone else. "You. You answer."
"I advise you—" The man had barely opened his mouth when—Bang! Another kick.
His face immediately turned ghastly, and he collapsed to the side.
Leon, buried among the pile of people, was drenched in sweat. He knew perfectly well that they had hit a wall this time—a wall of iron.
His mind was in turmoil as he struggled to calm himself and sort through his thoughts.
Just then, due to his awkward position, a folded sheet of paper drifted out of his coat pocket.
At the sight of that paper, Leon's eyes widened sharply.
He remembered the Prophecy Poem.
Black Letter—yes, it was the task notification they had received at noon, and it matched the mission to deliver a verbal message.
[Irresistible Jackal,