Chapter 69
Hearing the playful chatter from inside the RV, Leon smirked. "These kids are really optimistic."
Keisha began to explain, "Based on human genetics and personality analysis—" but Leon quickly cut her off. "Okay, enough. The old guy's losing his patience."
Whoosh!
Golden arcs sliced through the night as black tattered fabric fluttered in the wind. The old man, standing at the edge of the road, frowned as he reached up and removed his black round hat—now sliced in half. He let the ruined hat fall to the ground and turned his focus to the tall, muscular young man in front of him. In both of his hands, Sumarokov held two blades, connected by chains, with red handles and golden swords gleaming ominously.
Before the old man could speak, he noticed something strange: the air around him was filled with a red, chaotic energy. In the distance, a figure was hurtling toward him at supersonic speed.
The target was clear: him.
Before he could react, Pietro's fist collided with his face with a deafening boom, like thunder erupting in the night. The sheer force of the blow distorted the old man's skin, and his body was sent spiraling backward uncontrollably.
Waiting for him in midair was Sumarokov.
Inhaling deeply, his muscles tensed as he gripped the twin blades. With a flash of golden steel, he swung the swords in an intricate cross pattern. The old man's body flew straight into it, and in an instant, his form disintegrated—shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.