The red steam billowed from Ethan's wounds, his body regenerating faster than he could comprehend. The deep lacerations on his back sealed up, his torn leg muscles reknitting as he stumbled forward. The system's voice rang out in his mind.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
[Regeneration Skill Activated]
[Remaining Blood Volume: 68%]
Ethan barely registered the flashing number in his mind. Adrenaline surged through him as he sprinted, his makeshift weapon still clutched tightly in one hand. He ran straight for the nearest window and leaped through, his body slamming against the cold outside air.
Below him, the hounds were already on the move.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[Detected Hostiles: 63 Bloodhound Reapers // Classification: D+-Rank Pack-Type Beasts]
A deep growl echoed as the pack's red eyes locked onto him. The creatures were quick—aggressive, and they were closing in.
His heart pounded in his chest, but there was no time to stop. He jumped from a ledge, landing with a roll before quickly running across the rooftop. The hounds were right behind him, their claws scraping against the cement, each one moving faster than the last.
Ethan could feel the weight of their pursuit. They were close.
He made a sharp turn, sliding under one of the hounds that tried to pounce on him. The beast's jaws snapped shut just inches from his head.
[SYSTEM UPDATE]
[Bloodhound Reapers in Pursuit: 60+]
The number kept rising.
His stress levels skyrocketed. Sweat mixed with the grime on his face. He wasn't just running for his life; he was running out of options.
Ahead, a rusted armory door loomed. He was so close.
But before he could reach it, a hound leaped from the roof's edge and slammed into his back. His body hit the ground hard as claws ripped through his skin, and the beast's weight crushed him to the dirt.
"Dammit!" Ethan grunted, blood spurting from his back. He struggled to his feet, feeling the hot sting of the wound.
The door was just inches away.
He spun and pierced the hound's stomach with his makeshift rod, forcing it to release him with a high-pitched yelp.
With everything he had, Ethan slammed into the door, slamming it open, and staggered inside. The door groaned and slammed shut behind him as he locked it.
He leaned against the wall, panting. The sound of snarling hounds on the other side was deafening. But for now, he had a moment of reprieve.
Gunfire cracked sharply—Kato's twin pistols lighting up the shadows of the tunnel as he fired at the two men in black suits.
Agung ducked low, narrowly evading a spinning kick aimed at his head. "Kato!" he called out, voice tense. "We've found our suspects!"
All around them, the air was thick with the stench of blood and gunpowder. The other officers were already dead—one had his face slashed beyond recognition, another lay twisted against the wall, limbs bent at unnatural angles.
Now only Agung and Kato stood, facing two opponents. Both in black suits. Both wearing dark shades. Both smiling like the fight was nothing but a warm-up.
The enemies moved with precision. One locked onto Agung. The other went for Kato.
Kato fired off a clean volley, but his bullets only slowed his attacker momentarily—the wounds closed too fast. "They're regenerating way too quick!" he growled, dodging a high, whipping kick that snapped the air where his head had been.
"They're A-rank," Agung said calmly. "The difference between us and them... isn't massive. But it's enough to get us killed."
Agung's opponent launched a fast barrage—a jumping double kick, landing with a flourish before flowing into a sharp spinning heel strike. Agung bent backward, letting the kick slice through empty air, then surged forward.
He attacked using devastating close-range strikes—elbows to the jaw, knees to the ribs, a sweeping low leg kick that cracked against his enemy's calf. The man barely grunted, spinning into another leaping kick that caught Agung in the side.
He grunted, absorbing the hit, then used the momentum to pivot and deliver a crushing roundhouse elbow that sent the man flying into a stack of rusted pipes.
On the other side, Kato was in constant motion. He ran up the wall, backflipped mid-air, and fired several shots that hit center mass—but the man in black just kept advancing.
This one moved like lightning, using high-speed kicks, his body flipping, twisting, and spinning with unnatural balance. He leapt and extended a kick with such speed it whistled.
Kato ducked, rolled, and fired. The bullets weren't random—he aimed for joints, disabling motion. One shot shattered the attacker's shoulder. Another pierced near the elbow, causing the man's next attack to falter.
But even then, the man in black surged forward, delivering a spinning hook kick that nearly caught Kato's temple. Kato flipped backward, landed hard—but didn't stay down.
His feet slid back as he stood upright. Golden aura burst from his body, and his pupils turned gold.
With a smirk, he threw a magazine into the air, then two more from his pockets. He spun—midair, twisting perfectly—the magazines slid into place. He kicked the empty mag, sending it flying into the face of Agung's attacker just as he was about to strike again.
Agung spun, unleashed a flurry of knees and elbows, then used a low side step to dodge a kick and answer with a crushing rising elbow under the chin.
The man Kato faced raised both arms for a powerful slash-like strike—but Kato reacted instantly. He shot at the elbow, snapping the joint's angle. The next shot hit the ankle, throwing the enemy off balance.
The next shot—straight through the shoulder—made the man stagger.
Kato emptied his clip into the man's head.
Bang.
Bang. Bang. Bang!
Blood sprayed across the wall, and still, the man pushed forward—relentless.
Kato's teeth clenched. Bang! The final bullet exploded through the man's forehead, dropping him like a puppet with cut strings.
A breath. Then silence.
Across the tunnel, Agung wasn't silent.
He let out a war cry, grabbed his opponent by the neck and slammed him against the rusted wall. Then the punches came.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each strike cracked something. Cheekbone. Nose. Skull.
"STAY—DOWN!"
His fist tore through skin, bursting flesh open, until the man slumped, completely limp.
Agung stood over the crushed face, panting. His knuckles were red with blood, some of it his own.
"Only the dead stay down," he muttered darkly, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
Kato stepped closer, glancing at the two mangled bodies. "Took too long for two guys."
Agung nodded. "They're not normal. A-rank regeneration." He looked down again. "But let's see them regenerate from this."
Then—
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
The sound was slow, deliberate, mocking.
From the shadows at the far end of the tunnel, she appeared.
The woman moved like a queen through her court—hips swaying, heels clicking, coat flowing like silk. Her presence filled the tunnel. She held a glass of thick, dark red liquid, swirling it with lazy amusement.
Behind her, six men in black suits and shades emerged, standing like statues. Cold. Ready.
She took one step forward, eyes glittering beneath her lashes.
"My, my…" Her voice oozed charm, but there was a bite beneath it. "Two officers out here playing heroes. I thought you street dogs just wrote reports."