Bullets swept across the room, muzzles shifted, and more and more corpses piled up on the ground.
In John's hands, his twin guns could kill enemies with bullets or be swung back and forth like a pair of blades.
He could fight at any range, unrestricted.
"Ah!!"
A bare-chested man charged out carrying a heavy machine gun, his face red as he roared, the veins in his neck bulging prominently.
Heavy firearms were weapons the Church had already stopped producing. They were relics from before World War III.
Ratatatatat! The man fired, his body shaking violently from the recoil, waves rippling through his muscles.
The metal storm swept through, smashing the stairs and shattering the load-bearing pillars.
John nimbly dodged behind a load-bearing pillar. Even as the pillar was blasted to pieces by bullets, his expression remained unchanged, as calm as ever.
Even when the occasional stray bullet grazed past his face, it failed to draw John's attention.
"Hahahaha! Come out, Church lapdog!" The man continued roaring, his left arm already reddened by the recoil.
"Run! Leave this place to me!" Seeing John hide without daring to show himself, the man immediately turned and shouted toward the open exit behind him.
He was prepared to sacrifice himself to give his companions a chance to escape.
Rumble—John seized the opening while the other man spoke, rushed out, flicked his right hand, and fired!
The bullet accurately entered beneath the man's jaw and exited through the top of his head, carrying a spray of blood with it.
The corpse fell to the ground.
"No one can escape from here." John stood up and lightly brushed the dust from his clothes.
John strolled forward leisurely. Every gunshot sent someone collapsing into a pool of blood.
None of the Resistance members left in the