The heavy rain made the rooftop smooth and damp. With the train speeding along, powerful winds hit head-on, making it impossible for ordinary people to stand steady in such conditions, yet Bologue stood firm like a rock.
Grasping the last iron spear, intricate patterns spread from his palm to the steel, as if an invisible forge was smelting the metal. The twisted iron spear transformed into a short sword in his right hand, while excess steel crawled along his arm, forging into a rough arm armor.
The light pillar was right ahead, but Bologue's attention was not on the Sandbox at the moment. He started sprinting madly like a hound, racing between train cars, not stopping even when passing Sandbox's car, charging directly toward the train's head.
Killing Sandbox was a secondary target. The primary goal now was to stop the train and leave the transported goods here.
Palmer's cheers were incessant. This guy, like a true bandit, wielded a submachine gun, spraying bullets at the train.
