Smoke's shadows thickened until the entire study looked submerged in black fog. The chandeliers were gone, the walls swallowed, the only shapes visible were the faint outlines of shelves and broken desks jutting from the gloom like skeleton bones. The transcender himself was a shifting silhouette, half solid, half nothing, eyes glowing faintly like embers in the dark.
Nash tightened his grip on Hina's porcelain body. Every movement felt heavy, like pushing through syrup. He could feel Smoke's aura pressing at his mind again, whispering doubts, dragging him toward despair. His chest thumped with the echo of headlights and the memory of dying in that car accident.
"Not this time," Nash muttered through clenched teeth. "Not giving you the satisfaction."
He stomped forward with Hina's body. The porcelain floor cracked beneath her bare feet. "I don't care what kind of trick you use. I'll break it."
Smoke's laugh rippled like mist. "You resist well. But no mind is flawless. I only need one crack."
Nash snarled. "I'll kill you first before you find it."
The two surged at each other.
Hina's porcelain fist cut through the air with enough force to crater steel. Smoke phased, the knuckles passing through him like striking fog, but Nash anticipated it this time. He twisted, catching Smoke just as he reformed, elbow slamming into his ribs.
Smoke grunted, stumbling back, but his body dissolved again. He reappeared behind Nash, fingers shaped like claws, shadows trailing from his arms. He raked at Hina's back. The porcelain cracked faintly, dust scattering.
Nash winced. "I felt that."
Smoke's grin widened, sharp and mocking. "Indestructible, but not untouchable. How long can you keep this dance before I find your tether?"
"You talk too much!" Nash roared. He spun, catching Smoke's head with a backhand. The blow landed flush, sending the man skidding across the room and through a collapsed bookshelf.
Dust exploded upward, covering everything. Smoke rose, shoulders rolling, blood dripping from his lip. Instead of anger, his face carried twisted amusement. "You hit harder than most. This is almost enjoyable."
Nash lifted Hina's arms, ready to crush him again. "Glad you're having fun. Because I'm done."
They clashed again, the room breaking apart piece by piece. Nash slammed Smoke into the wall, smashing through plaster and wood. Smoke countered by phasing, appearing at Hina's side, slamming a knee into her torso. The floorboards snapped beneath them.
Every move Nash made was pure brutality, fists shattering desks, kicks leaving craters in the ground. Every move Smoke made was precision and deception, hitting only when solid, vanishing when threatened.
The fight dragged on, each impact echoing through the mansion like a drumbeat.
At one point, Smoke vanished completely. Nash scanned the haze, fists clenched, frustration rising.
"Come out, coward!" he shouted.
A whisper hissed in his ear. "Behind you."
Nash spun just in time. Smoke's hand, half shadow, half flesh, drove into Hina's chest. The porcelain body shook violently as if the strike tried to pierce through to Nash himself. For an instant, Nash felt the weight of his own death again, the screech of tires.
His breath caught. His vision blurred.
"Got you," Smoke whispered.
Something inside Nash snapped. He slammed both of Hina's fists down like hammers, catching Smoke's shoulders. The impact crushed him into the floor, the boards exploding outward.
"You don't get to mess with my head!" Nash roared. "You don't get to drag me back there!"
He pummeled Smoke again, fists raining down like falling meteors. Each strike made the floor quake. Smoke tried to phase, his body turning misty, but Nash was relentless, timing every hit the instant Smoke solidified.
Blood splattered. Teeth broke. Bones cracked.
Smoke struggled to rise, shadows twitching weakly. "Impossible… how…"
Nash raised Hina's hand, porcelain fingers tightening into a fist. "You wanted to find my crack. Instead you found my shet in it."
The fist came down. The floor shook like thunder.
Smoke's body went limp. His shadow unraveled like smoke pulled into a vent, vanishing into nothing. His eyes flickered once, then went dull.
Silence fell.
Nash stood over the corpse, Hina's chest heaving though she had no lungs. He forced himself to steady. "Finally… one of these bastards stays down."
He stepped back, porcelain hair falling over her face. The duffel bags of money lay scattered, forgotten. Instead, Nash's gaze locked onto the corner of the room where a portion of wall had cracked during the fight. Behind it, faint metallic glints showed.
He tilted Hina's head. "A secret room."
---
Nash forced Hina's body against the wall, smashing through it with raw force. The hidden passage opened with a groan, revealing a stairwell descending into darkness. A foul stench wafted up, a mix of blood, rot, and iron.
"Jesus…" Nash muttered. "What the hell is this?"
He descended. The deeper he went, the stronger the stench. The air grew humid, sticky.
At the bottom lay a chamber lit by dim red bulbs. What Nash saw froze him in place.
Rows of cages lined the walls, each packed with human figures. Men, women, even some barely in their teens. Their bodies were torn open, flesh riddled with cuts and burns. Some were missing limbs. Others had their eyes gouged out. All were alive, breathing shallowly, whimpering faintly.
Chains dangled from the ceiling where others hung like butchered animals, twitching in delirium. The floor was sticky with blood, pooling into drains carved into the stone.
In the center stood a machine of rusted iron and runes, tubes leading into the cages, siphoning something that glowed faintly.
Nash staggered, bile rising in his throat. "What the fuck…"
One prisoner, a man with half his face burned, lifted his head weakly. "Please… enough…" His voice cracked like broken glass.
Nash gritted his teeth. He smashed Hina's fists into the locks of the cages, shattering them one by one. Prisoners crawled out, some too weak to stand, others collapsing on the blood-soaked floor.
"Can you still move?" Nash asked, though his voice shook.
He tore open every cage, fury building with every broken body he saw. Some prisoners died the moment the doors opened, their mutilated forms finally giving out. Others clung to Hina, sobbing incoherently.
Nash slammed Hina's fist into the machine, breaking it apart, sparks flying as the tubes snapped. The glow of stolen essence dissipated into the air.
His hands trembled. "What kind of monsters do this…"
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Nash spun, fists raised.
A man stepped into the chamber, tall and broad-shouldered, his face hidden behind a red scarf. His eyes scanned the broken machine, then the freed prisoners. Finally, he saw Smoke's absence.
"No fucking wonder," the man said, his voice low and dangerous. "Smoke is not answering. Someone actually beat him."
Nash glared through Hina's porcelain eyes. "What the hell is this?" He gestured to the cages. "What the hell are you'll doing with these people?"
The man raised his eyebrows. "Don't fucking act dumb or clean Black Vultures. Every gang does this, the matter of fact few high officials even do this. What you see here is what our supplier taught us."
Nash's stomach turned. "Supplier?"
The man stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "This is the most efficient way to produce supernaturals. Suffering tears the veil. Pain gives birth to power. With enough torment, even the weakest mortal can erupt into something useful."
Nash froze, his hands tightening until porcelain joints creaked. "You're saying… you torture people just to force supernaturals into existence?"
The man's expression did not change. "Not just people. Resources. Tools. Cattle to be refined."
A prisoner screamed weakly from the corner, collapsing against the bars. The sound echoed through the chamber, raw and hopeless.
Nash's vision blurred red. "You sick bastards."
The man tilted his head, unfazed. "Spare me your outrage. You think power comes from nowhere? This is reality, stop being a hypocrites."
Nash stepped forward, Hina's porcelain fists trembling with fury. "Reality or not… I'll break every last one of you."
The man's brows furrowed slightly, intrigued rather than afraid. "Interesting. Perhaps you are not one of the Black Vultures after all. But if you stand in the way of the supplier's will, you will be erased."
Nash snarled, his rage boiling past words.
The chamber shook faintly as porcelain knuckles dug into the stone floor. Prisoners whimpered, clutching the broken bars. The stench of blood and suffering filled the air.
The man smiled faintly. "Then show me your resolve. Let us see how long your anger lasts."