Nash did not wait for the police to open their mouths.
The moment the stairwell door burst open and the five officers stepped in, their guns infused with runes faintly shimmering, Nash's instincts screamed. He tightened Hina's porcelain fists, pivoted on her heel, and sprinted.
"Fuck." Nash muttered inside his mind.
Porcelain legs thundered against the wood, cracks spiderwebbing beneath every step. He did not slow down. Instead, he lowered his shoulder and smashed through a doorway. Furniture exploded in splinters. The cops shouted, but Nash never looked back. He sprinted through the halls of the mansion, the indestructible shell of Hina carrying him like a runaway juggernaut.
The porcelain body crashed through a second door, then a third. The walls shook from the sheer weight of impact. Finally, Nash spotted a wide window, moonlight spilling through broken glass.
He did not hesitate. He leapt.
The porcelain frame hit the window like a cannonball. Shards rained outward, sparkling against the night sky as Hina's body soared into the slum air. Nash landed hard on the street below, the impact cratering the ground. Dust and shards of brick erupted around him, but Hina's body did not even crack.
Nash straightened, brushing rubble off her porcelain shoulders. He tilted her head back toward the mansion. The five police stood framed in the shattered window, watching silently.
Their guns never fired. Their hands never twitched. They only stared at him.
"… That's fucking creepy." Nash muttered, then turned and bolted into the darkened alleys.
---
Inside the mansion, the five officers lowered their weapons. One of them, a tall man with a hawk-like nose, clicked his tongue.
"Guess one of the Red Arms already took care of the evidence."
Another officer shrugged. "Maybe... but we might as well check the hidden room just in case."
They moved like a pack, boots thudding in perfect rhythm as they returned to the stairwell. Their faces were unreadable, too calm for men standing over a battlefield littered with corpses.
Before they could descend, a crackle came through the radio on one officer's vest.
"This is Unit Seventeen. Spotted a few captives escaping through the back alley. Don't worry, already took care of them."
The officer with the hawk nose pressed his earpiece. "Good, less leads to our asses." He glanced at the others. "Come on. Let's sweep the hidden room anyway."
The five advanced downward. Their lights swept across the broken walls, the splintered floorboards, until they reached the secret chamber where Nash had freed the prisoners.
The sight froze them.
Dozens of captives still alive, still breathing, their faces hollow from torment but their eyes bright with hope. Some huddled in groups, others staggered to their feet. Chains lay shattered around them, the torture racks broken.
One of the women limped forward. Her voice cracked, but it carried gratitude. "T-thank you… thank you for coming..."
The prisoners began to approach, reaching toward the officers with trembling hands.
The hawk-nosed officer's jaw tightened. He raised his gun.
"Fucking useless gangs... so much for easy cleanup."
The others followed suit, weapons rising, muzzles aimed directly at the freed captives.
Fingers curled around triggers.
But nothing happened.
One officer frowned, squeezing harder. His weapon clicked, but the trigger would not move. He yanked again, teeth gritting. "The hell—"
Then he saw it.
A small insect wedged into the trigger guard. Another crawled along the barrel. Then another.
In seconds, dozens of insects swarmed the guns.
And then hundreds.
Beetles, roaches, centipedes poured out of the cracks in the ceiling, a living tide of skittering legs and chittering mandibles. The insects crawled over the officers' arms, into their armor, beneath their helmets. Their eyes widened in horror as their bodies vanished under a seething swarm.
"What the fu—" one tried to shout, but a beetle scurried into his mouth.
That was when the voice came.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
The five froze.
Behind them stood a woman dressed in dark tactical gear, her badge glinting faintly under the lantern light. Her short hair was tied back, her eyes hard as steel. A relic pulsed faintly at her waist, a sigil glowing like a hive.
The insect swarm writhed in response to her presence, obeying her command.
The woman ignored the struggling officers and stepped past them, toward the captives. Her tone softened, firm but reassuring. "It's alright. You're safe now. Follow me. We're getting you out of here."
The prisoners clung to her words like lifelines. Some sobbed, others whispered blessings, but all followed as she led them carefully out of the chamber. Into her radio, she barked, "This is Unit Nine. I need a full medical team at the Red Arms mansion basement. Multiple survivors. Repeat, multiple survivors alive."
She stayed long enough to watch medics rush in, guiding the tortured civilians away. Her jaw tightened when she turned back to the five officers, still pinned by insects.
"You bastards actually tried to kill all the victims."
She stepped closer, voice sharp. "Talk. Who sent you? Which precinct are you really from?"
But before she could grab one of them, their mouths began to foam. White froth spilled over their lips, their eyes rolling back. Their bodies convulsed violently.
The woman swore and yanked one by the collar, trying to hold him steady. "Shit. Poison teeth... or something more hidden... Fucking rats."
In moments, all five collapsed. Lifeless.
The insects scattered, crawling back into cracks. The woman exhaled sharply, her expression dark.
"Tsk. Figures... Though I could already guess where they came from... It's pretty obvious."
Her radio crackled again. "Unit Twelve reporting. The other rats also killed themselves before we could knock them out."
The woman closed her eyes for a moment. Then she muttered, "This country is truly infested."
---
Meanwhile, Nash tore through the forest on the outskirts of the slums. The porcelain body moved like a locomotive, each step shaking the ground, branches snapping as he barreled through.
"Don't stop, don't stop," Nash hissed to himself. "I am not getting arrested tonight."
The night air was sharp, carrying the scent of damp soil and smoke from the burning district behind him. His porcelain legs carried him deeper, further from the lights of the city.
Then—
Thud.
Something slammed into him from the side. Nash staggered, porcelain arms flaring outward. He turned and saw another figure running alongside him.
A man. His skin was lined with glowing tattoos, pulsing like molten veins. His eyes burned with a crimson hue. A gang transcender.
They stared at each other mid-run, both panting, both streaked with dirt and blood.
The man snarled. "You Red Arms?"
Nash blinked. "...Yes."
The man spat blood, but he kept running at the same pace. "Tsk. Doesn't matter. You're running the same way I am. Means you're not a cop."
Before Nash could answer, a sound cut through the forest.
Crack.
A branch snapped. Heavy footsteps followed. The air grew taut with pressure.
Nash glanced back and swore. A transcender policeman was sprinting after them, his body wreathed in faint silver light. His eyes glowed, sharp and predatory.
The gang member cursed. "Shit. They're on us." He grinned savagely and looked at Nash. "I'm also a transcender. We take him down together."
Nash tilted Hina's porcelain head. "Yeah. Sure. Let's do that."
The man smirked, flexing his glowing arms. "Good. Let's kill this motherfucker."
He skidded to a stop, planting his feet, muscles swelling with power. He barked over his shoulder, "Come on! Don't just stand there!"
But when he looked back, Nash was gone.
The porcelain figure was still sprinting deeper into the forest, one hand raised in a very clear gesture.
The middle finger.
"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?" the gang member roared.
Nash's laughter echoed through the trees as he disappeared into the darkness. "Good luck, dumbass!"
---
The transcender policeman stepped into the clearing. His relic shimmered, sparks of silver dancing across his body like a living halo. His hand gripped the handle of a blade forged from runes, its edge glowing faintly.
The gang member cursed again, veins bulging with molten light. "Fine. Guess I'll rip you apart myself!"
He roared, his tattoos flaring. Lava-like energy surged across his arms. He swung his fist, molten heat trailing in the air.
The policeman blurred.
In an instant, he was no longer where he had stood. He appeared at the man's side, blade flashing.
Steel cut through flesh.
The gang member howled as blood sprayed, his shoulder splitting open. He swung back, lava-coated fist colliding with the air where the cop had been. The punch exploded, molten rock splattering against the trees, setting them ablaze.
But the cop was already gone, moving faster than the eye could follow. He reappeared behind, his blade slashing down. The gang member barely twisted in time, molten arm blocking the strike. Sparks flew as steel clashed with molten rock.
The forest echoed with the sounds of battle.
The gang member roared, stomping hard. The ground cracked, magma erupting upward in a geyser. The blast lit the night sky, a pillar of molten fire tearing through branches.
The policeman leapt high, silver sparks trailing his form. He descended like a meteor, blade glowing brighter.
The impact shook the ground.
The gang member screamed as the silver blade pierced his side, cutting through glowing tattoos. His molten power faltered, flickering. Blood gushed from the wound.
Still, he fought. He grabbed the cop's arm, lava surging. His grip burned flesh, the smell of charred skin filling the clearing.
The cop's eyes narrowed. Instead of retreating, he surged forward, driving his forehead into the gang member's skull.
Crack.
The man staggered, dazed.
The policeman wrenched his blade free, then slashed horizontally. The strike severed one molten arm entirely.
The gang member collapsed to his knees, screaming in agony. His tattoos dimmed, his power flickering out.
The cop stood over him, breathing hard but steady. His voice came cold, absolute. "You chose the wrong side."
He raised his blade.
The clearing filled with silver light.
---
Far away, Nash ran through the trees, his porcelain laughter echoing.
"Holy shit, that was worth it. Poor bastard thought I'd actually team up."
He wheezed, clutching Hina's porcelain stomach, even though her body never tired. "I can't believe he actually fell for that."
The porcelain body crashed through another thicket, branches snapping, dirt flying. Nash's laughter carried into the night, wild and unrestrained.
The neighborhood burned behind him and the forest swallowed him.