Right after the man—clearly the mercenary leader—collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, the Saint raised her revolver and blew on the barrel with a soft breath.
“Came here to shop, and look what kind of circus I walked into.”
Yeomyeong nodded in agreement. At the same time, he swept his gaze over the camp perimeter and clenched his fist.
His spell activated, and the dozens of mercenaries still trapped in telekinetic suspension all began to thrash and gasp in unison.
“K-Kgh…” “P-Please spare…” “Ghhkk…”
He hadn’t intended to kill them, so Yeomyeong focused his grip just enough to apply pressure to their carotid arteries.
After about ten seconds…
