In his eyes, splitting bones neatly in two was an art.
The burly man before him was no small specimen. For him, this would count as an interesting exercise-
Whoosh!
"Man-Slayer"
As he considered which angle to cut Pica from, a huge shadow lunged before him! Its speed was uncannily fast. He had only just registered the danger when five thick, hard fingers reached for him.
Instinctively, with no time to draw his blade, he could only raise it sheath and all, trying to parry that hand with the scabbard while twisting his wrist to draw and counterattack-
The blade would not budge?
Pica's outstretched hand had clamped around the scabbard.
His terrifying grip instantly warped the metal sheath.
Naturally, the long blade inside was jammed firmly in place as well.
Bang!
Then a fist smashed into the Man-Slayer's
head.
A muffled crack of shattering skull erupted, and red and white matter splattered.
The headless body fell to the floor, still twitching.
Pica glanced down, somewhat puzzled.
Was... was this supposed to be someone worth taking seriously?
Forget it. Anyone who could be ** wasn't.
He paid it no further attention and turned back, sweeping his gaze over the surrounding soldiers and men in black.
Everyone his gaze touched shuddered.
"Drop your weapons."
"There are so many of us, with so many guns.
"You think you can still-"
Surrounded by layers of soldiers and men in black, Vergo leisurely unbuttoned his suit and pulled it open.
Beneath his jacket hung a dense array of weapons.
Short firearms tucked at his waist, blades suspended from the lining, and old-fashioned Flintlock Pistols... beneath that suit was practically a mobile ** display case.
"Your gear is too shoddy."
Facing enemies who had instantly tensed, Vergo did not use any of those weapons.