Even though they were confused, they couldn't just stop.
At their current speed-already the limit before losing control-they couldn't go any faster. Even so, Morin had still passed them in an instant.
There was no time to think.
They kept driving forward.
Even if they lost this race, there were other places to finish it.
Besides, for speeders, what was more exciting than seeing a good car and a skilled driver?
Even if it was a police officer, they still had to look.
They had to see clearly.
The track was a loop.
Halfway through, Morin had already overtaken every participating vehicle. He had also handed each car-and each rider-a traffic ticket.
The fine wasn't large.
The experience points probably weren't much either.
But he still caught them.
It was a side task anyway.
After passing all the motorcycles, Morin didn't stop. He followed the signs and headed straight for the starting line.
A crowd had already gathered there.
They were waiting.
There were surveillance personnel along the route. The speed sensors showed Morin had reached a peak of four hundred kilometers per hour.
To everyone present, it was a miracle.
Before this, someone had once reached three hundred kilometers per hour.
Only once.
That person went straight to the hospital and still hadn't been discharged.
The fact that he even survived was already astonishing.
What did speeders crave if not extreme speed and powerful machines?
Morin's performance struck directly at their hearts.
They waited for him.
Even if he was a police officer.
Besides, was he really a police officer?
What kind of police officer rode a motorcycle like that?
With that level of skill, he could've been a professional racer and made a fortune.
Why be a cop?
And even if he was one, he was alone.
Nothing to worry about.
With those thoughts, they waited.
Morin rode the Kawasaki up an incline.
Even after deliberately slowing down for the finish line, the speed still sent him airborne for several seconds.
The bike landed.
Morin immediately braked.
The crowd gasped.
At that speed, braking meant death.
A rolling wreck.
A shattered bike.
A corpse.
That was what they expected.
None of it happened.
The instant Morin braked, he swung the bike.
Forward momentum turned into a sideways slide.
The motorcycle tilted sharply, transforming into a clean powerslide.
The Kawasaki only looked like a Kawasaki.
Internally, its structure and performance were entirely different.
Top-tier in every sense.
The wheels locked.
They no longer provided power or forward motion.
All kinetic energy was bled away through friction.
A piercing screech echoed.
Smoke rose.
The smell of burning rubber filled the air.
Morin and the bike slid twenty to thirty meters before stopping.
That was thanks to the tires' special materials-extreme grip, extreme friction.
Just before coming to a complete stop, Morin lightly touched the ground with one hand.
Using that force, the bike straightened itself.
Perfectly upright.
Then it stopped.
Smooth.
Clean.
Elegant.
The crowd erupted.
"Oh my god" echoed everywhere.
"Who are you?" A woman in a bikini stepped forward, eyes soft.
"I'm a police officer." Morin smiled, pulling out his badge and a handgun.
"Everyone, don't move. You are suspected of illegal vehicle modification and illegal organized racing."
"I hereby declare that you are all under arrest."
The crowd: "..."
They weren't speechless because they had nothing to say.
They were just about to mock him.
To laugh.
To ask if he'd opened his eyes.
There were so many of them.
He was alone.
But before they could speak, an overwhelming pressure descended on them.
Their fear of the police exploded from deep inside.
They were wrongdoers.
He was law.
They couldn't resist.
They absolutely couldn't.
The thought looped endlessly in their minds.
Urging obedience.
Morin hadn't used mind control.
He could have.
It would've been easy.
Instead, he activated something else.
The [Eye of Justice].
The [Heart of Justice].
The [Aura of Justice].
The trio.
The Eye judged the soul.
The Heart evoked remorse.
The Aura forced evil to retreat and righteousness to stand.
Under the combined effect, they felt crushed by guilt.
Only obedience could cleanse them.
Only punishment could bring peace.
"This is a god-tier skill..." Morin thought.
He had a rough understanding now.
"I wonder how it compares to the Penance Stare."
He couldn't tell.
He'd have to test it someday.
Assuming he survived.
That thought made him hesitate briefly.
One by one, the racers Morin had left behind arrived.
They entered the field of his justice skills as well.
They stopped.
Reflected.
Waited.
"Alright," Morin waved his hand. "Everyone, come with me."
Since it was his first day on the job, he might as well finish everything.
That way, he could take leave without worrying about dereliction or docked pay.
He led the way.
They packed up.
Mounted their bikes.
Started their engines.
The convoy formed.
Engines roared like thunder.
A grand procession.
...
Much later.
Duke finally saw Morin return.
"Didn't you say you were going to find me a motorcycle?" Duke asked, seeing him alone.
Then he seemed to understand.
"It's fine. Those guys are slippery. Don't get discouraged."
"There'll be chances."
"No," Morin said, pointing behind him. "I found one."
"Actually, I found many."
The roar of engines grew louder.
"What do you mean... pick one?" Duke asked, confused.
Then he saw it.
At the street corner-
A modified motorcycle appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
Soon, the street was filled.
From their bikes, their hair, their outfits-
All speeders.
Duke stared.
Mouth open.
"You did this?"
"I might need to take leave in a few days," Morin nodded. "So I handled it in advance."
"How about it?"
"...Are you sure they're here to pay fines?" Duke asked weakly.
"Not to storm the station?"
Inside the station, officers peeked out.
Their faces changed.
Guns came out.
Stun grenades-
Well, no RPGs. The station was too small.
The report reached the chief.
"Pfft!"
He sprayed coffee everywhere.
Including the reporting officer.
Documents mattered more.
"Prepare to repel them!" the chief ordered, grabbing his pistol.
He went to the entrance.
Then-
He saw it.
"I told you to come pay fines," Morin shouted, "not block the entrance!"
"Hands up. Turn around. Lie down!"
The chief thought the new kid was an idiot.
Then-
They obeyed.
Every single one.
Perfect synchronization.
The chief's eyes nearly fell out.
He wasn't sure reality was intact.
"Chief?" Morin glanced over. "Perfect timing."
"These are the speeders you wanted caught, right?"
"I caught them. What's next?"
"I don't need to stay, do I?"
Chief: "???"
"You... caught all of them?" he asked slowly.
"Of course," Morin laughed.
"I raced them, crushed them completely, shattered their confidence."
"Then I reasoned with them emotionally."
"They realized their mistakes and came back willingly."
Chief: "..."
Sure.
Absolutely believable.
If that worked, this problem would've been solved years ago.
But-
They were all here.
Evidence intact.
Merit was merit.
The chief decided not to question it.
"You're... very dedicated," he said.
"Speaking of dedication," Morin added, "I'd like to take leave."
"I've already finished my work."
"That's... reasonable," the chief muttered.
Too reasonable.
Uncomfortably so.
"Approved," he said quickly. "I'll also apply for a bonus."
"Great." Morin nodded.
"And I'd like to borrow one of these bikes."
"No problem."
They were scrap anyway.
"Cuff them and take them in!" the chief ordered.
Morin waved at Duke.
"Come on. Pick one."
Duke's eyes drifted toward Morin's bike.
"Except mine."
"...Then this one."
Duke mounted it smoothly.
They rode out.
...
They returned to the track.
Empty.
Perfect.
"Stop here," Morin said.
This was the experiment.
The subject: Duke.
The question: why riding above a hundred miles per hour always caused problems-yet never killed him.
A hundred miles per hour.
One hundred sixty kilometers.
Forty-four meters per second.
Normally fatal.
Humans were fragile.
But Duke was always fine.
Every time.
That wasn't coincidence.
"Just ride?" Duke asked.
"Yes. I'll ride beside you."
"What? Beside me?"
"That's the only way to see details."
"I can ride hands-free at that speed."
"That does not help!"
"Do you want answers or not?"
"I do!"
Duke had chased speed his whole life.
Yet for some reason, he couldn't go beyond that limit anymore.
He felt like he once could.
But the memory was gone.
It haunted him.
"Ready?" Duke asked, helmet on.
"I don't know what'll happen."
"Don't worry," Morin said calmly.
"Even if the planet explodes, I'll be fine."
"Start."
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