Cian maintained his aim at the Baphomet, though the masked assassin didn't even flinch in the face of the gun pointed his way.
"It seems that you're still holding up after that blow I delivered. My punch power has also decreased with age," the Baphomet commented.
Cian couldn't help but inwardly chuckle at the notion. 'Are you kidding me... That punch felt like being hit by a freight train, and you're saying it's diminished? Just how monstrous were you in your prime?'
The Baphomet was renowned as an assassin capable of taking down anyone with his bare hands. Cian had initially doubted the exaggeration, but now, facing him head-on, he realized the truth behind the rumors. This man was as lethal as they said.
'Definitely a formidable opponent... I'm in quite a bind now,' Cian thought, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he gripped his gun.