Gunfire erupted like a storm.
The silence that had followed the Black Vulture gang's arrival shattered when the first muzzle flash lit the street. The Red Arms, who had been drinking and laughing only minutes earlier, turned into a firing squad. Windows opened, rifles pointed out, and the crack of runic rounds tore through the air. Sparks sprayed as bullets ripped across walls and cars.
The Vultures dove for cover behind their SUVs. Doors slammed, hoods dented as bodies pressed close. Then came their response, a synchronized volley of fire that turned the neighborhood into a battlefield.
Nash crouched on his rooftop, controlling Hina's body, eyes wide. "Holy crap… it's a warzone out here."
He wasn't exaggerating. The air filled with smoke and thunder. Sparks streaked between buildings as rune-etched bullets whistled. Every shot left faint afterimages of glowing symbols, like tiny sigils flashing and fading. Nash could almost see the difference between normal lead and runic ammunition—the latter burned through the night with a ghostly glow.
Then came the transcenders.
From the Red Arms side, a man kicked a door off its hinges and strode onto the street. His body was covered in a sheen of dark metal plates, jagged and shifting like living armor. His voice boomed. "Vultures! You picked the wrong nest bastards!"
He raised his arm, and spikes shot outward, piercing through a car door and slamming a Vulture grunt screaming to the ground.
In retaliation, one of the Vultures stepped forward. His veins glowed blue, lightning crackling across his shoulders. He spread his arms wide, sparks dancing between his fingers, and with a shout hurled a bolt of electricity down the street. It tore into the armored man, sending him crashing through a wall.
The crowd roared with a mix of cheers and curses.
Another Red Arm emerged, this one with eyes glowing red and arms thick as tree trunks. He swung a lamppost like a club, smashing a Vulture SUV into scrap.
But the Vultures were not cowards. A woman stepped from behind cover, her body trailing smoke. Her skin flickered like hot coal, glowing cracks spreading along her arms. She inhaled deeply, chest heaving, then exhaled a jet of fire that swept across the street.
Screams erupted as flames engulfed cars and barricades.
Nash crouched lower, gripping the rooftop. "This is fucking insane."
The transcenders clashed in the middle of the street, their powers colliding like natural disasters. Lightning met fire. Metal clashed against living stone. Every impact rattled windows, sent sparks scattering, shook the air with concussive force.
Ordinary gangsters fired wildly from cover, but the transcenders were the real storm. One Red Arm dissolved into mist and slipped through gunfire, reforming behind two Vultures and slitting their throats with a rune-dagger. Another Vulture's skin turned translucent, bones glowing beneath as he charged like an undead beast, ramming straight through a wall with terrifying strength.
The night had turned into chaos incarnate.
And Nash just watched.
He crouched on the roof, heart pounding, but his mind cold. "This… this is exactly why rune artifacts are worth so much. If I get one of those, I'll never have to fear anyone again... Well, I have Hina though... and I have to at least capture a supernatural."
A bullet ricocheted off the roof beside him, snapping him back. He flinched, then gritted his teeth. "Enough watching. Time to move."
He dropped low and slid down the roof tiles, landing with a soft thud on the balcony of a nearby house. Inside, shadows moved, maybe gang members hiding. Perfect.
Nash raised Hina's porcelain hands, pushed, and smashed through the window.
Glass shattered.
People inside screamed in shocked.
Three men and two women turned in shock and confused, guns snapping up. Their faces twisted in confusion. They had expected maybe a rival gang member or a Vulture bursting in.
A pale, naked woman-shaped puppet, hair falling in strands, glass shards sliding harmlessly across her porcelain skin. Her blank eyes stared into the room.
"What the f—" one man cursed, stumbling back.
The others immediately pointed their weapons. Their fingers hovered over glowing runes etched along the barrels. These weren't cheap guns. These were rune-bound firearms, each bullet loaded with power.
One of the men stepped forward, squinting hard. His voice was sharp. "Look at her joints. That's not… that's not flesh. That's a puppet."
"A puppet? The hell are you talking about?"
"Look! Her elbows, knees, neck, see the seams? That's porcelain. She's a damn construct a fucking transcender."
The group fell into tense silence. Then the man's voice hardened. "We all know the transcenders of our gang. And none of them look like that. There's no one with a porcelain puppet body. Which means…"
He cocked his gun, the rune on its chamber glowing faintly. "She's not one of us. And you Better not do dumb shit, because these are runic rounds tha could peirce a grade D transcender."
The others followed suit, guns raised, eyes locked on Hina's body.
Nash cursed under his breath. From outside, the roar of battle only grew louder. Gunshots rattled, screams tore through the night, and the transcenders' clash shook the ground. Time was running out.
He muttered, just loud enough for himself. "I have to steal things quickly."
His eyes darted around the room. A crate in the corner, half-open. Inside are loads of cash, drugs and a bit of jewelry. Jackpot.
But first… he had to survive these guys pointing guns at him.
The fight outside escalated, the walls trembling from explosions. Someone screamed in agony, followed by a roar like a beast. The transcenders were going all out.
The men in the room grew more anxious, fingers twitching on their triggers. One barked, "Talk, puppet! Whose side are you on? Red Arms? Vultures? Or something else?"
Nash, trapped in silence, weighed his options.