Outside the kitchen, a young man of about twenty-five or twenty-six walked in. He had short, slightly curly brown hair, a timid appearance, wore formal attire, and held a revolver.
He cautiously leaned half his body inside. Just then, Willis, who had been clinging to the wall like a lizard, pounced down.
A sharp dagger sank completely into the young man's back, making him let out a scream.
"No!"
A cry of alarm rang out from beyond the door.
Having landed a hit, Willis dropped to the floor and immediately tucked into a forward roll.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Wood chips flew from the ground he rolled across, and several bullet holes were blasted into the kitchen floor.
Taking the chance, Willis looked outside the kitchen. A cold-tempered, thin-lipped man was rushing toward him with a gun, firing continuously.
With the all-around enhancement gained from the ritual, Willis rolled, leaped, and lunged forward, dodging the enemy's attacks with extraordinary agility.
The other man's bullets struck the walls, smashed into the windows, or collided violently with kitchenware such as iron pots.
Click—
At last, the other man had emptied his gun.
Seizing the opportunity, Willis pushed off with his foot and made a huge leap forward, crossing the kitchen in an instant as he lunged at the enemy by the door.
The other man discarded his revolver, clenched his fists, and swung one howling toward Willis's temple.
Willis neither dodged nor evaded, allowing the blow to land. At the same time, he turned sideways, bent his elbow, raised his forearm, and slammed it into the enemy's chin.
The brief yet berserk strength granted by the ritual erupted in an instant. The black-haired, blue-eyed man staggered backward, driven by the force, blood already trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Willis pressed forward,