People swarmed in.

  They were likely just ordinary citizens passing by. Yet, at some point, they began to converge on this location. They weren't there for business; for an entirely different reason, they began to target the police station. Because a high-profile suspect was held here, a specialized riot control unit had been deployed. They took up their weapons to face the approaching crowd.

  It started as an assault. The officers at the main gate, fully geared with armor and shields, performed their duties despite the sudden shock. However, the numbers grew rapidly, and the fighting intensified.

  The entrance to the police station was now a scene of utter chaos. People from unknown origins rushed the gates in droves. The police fought desperately to hold them back, but they were visibly being pushed. Although reinforcements from other precincts had been requested, it would take time for them to arrive. For now, they had to hold the line with the personnel on hand. It was clear they were outnumbered. No matter how well-trained, there were limits to holding back such a massive wave.

  The officers stationed here were experts, well-trained in suppressing riots and civil unrest. They were prepared for worst-case scenarios and were currently proving why they were so feared. Yet, in this situation, they hit their breaking point.

  Their opponents were ordinary citizens. But these people were not moving of their own free will. One look at their eyes told the story. They were vacant—hollow. There was no sense of self-point behind them. They were simply following orders.

  If that were all, it might have been manageable. But these citizens were wielding violence against the police. Regardless of their will, they had become living tools. Like voodoo zombies, these enslaved people acted as human battering rams against the station.

  They swung their fists without hesitation. Their strength remained at human levels, and the riot shields were sufficient to block the blows. But the problem went beyond mere defense. These people continued to attack, indifferent to their own bones shattering. Even when struck by batons, they weren't neutralized. It was as if they couldn't feel pain; they kept coming even with broken limbs.

  It was pure horror.

  Normally, anyone would have collapsed by now, yet they did not stop. They were slow, but their relentless advance felt like a problem with no answer.

  "Aaargh!"

  One officer holding the line finally buckled and fell. What followed was a brutal lynching. Screams rang out, delivering a shock that no one could easily bear. Yet, there was no way to save him.

  The only person capable of handling this situation was not there. He hadn't fled, however. Even amidst the riot, the sounds of another battle could be heard—noises far different from the clash at the gate. Those who managed a brief glance away from their own fight saw a terror that extinguished even their resentment toward the only person there who possessed a tool.

  To survive, they had to use the weapons they were given. Fortunately, they had a secondary option to avoid the absolute worst-case scenario.

  Snap.

  The sound of a Taser firing, distinct from a gunshot, rang out. The probes struck an attacker, neutralizing them instantly. No matter how inhumanly they acted, the electric shock made further movement impossible. Seeing this, the other officers began using their Tasers without hesitation. Their priority was rescuing their fallen comrades.

  "Get him out of there, now!"

  Officers rushed into the pile of fallen bodies to retrieve their colleague while others formed a shield wall around them, successfully pulling him to safety.

  But the situation was far from good. The number of people swarming in continued to increase. At this rate, there was no future. They didn't have many Taser cartridges left. They had to start considering close-quarters combat using handheld stun guns. The commanders were in agony. The casualties among the police were already significant. They were nearing the point of considering the ultimate, lethal measure.

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  But then, the fallen started to twitch.

  It should have been impossible for a normal person to stand up so soon after being tasered. The pain should have been agonizing. But those before them were individuals consumed by tools. Such beings could always defy human common sense.

  "Damn it!"

  The fear that they might actually have to use live ammunition began to set in. No matter how well-trained a unit is in maintaining public order, their effectiveness depends on their weapons actually working. The thought that only defeat awaited them drove them toward panic. The time for a final decision was drawing near, and no one knew what the consequences would be.

  The Boss’s expression was grim as he watched the broadcast. His subordinates felt the same. What was happening was beyond a bad joke. A mob of citizens attacking a police station, and behind them, a massive monster.

  It was a nightmare that seemed impossible to stop without mobilizing the military—and even then, there was no guarantee of victory against that thing, even with tanks. However, the Boss’s sharp eyes quickly identified Jihyeon’s presence. Though he wore sunglasses, a mask, and a hood pulled low to hide himself, the Boss recognized him instantly.

  "Hey. Aren't you glad we didn't pick a fight with that guy head-on last time?" the Boss asked his men. His closest subordinate nodded in agreement.

  "How could a normal person even do that?"

  The subordinate had been an athlete for a long time before an injury forced him into the underworld. Having pushed the limits of human potential himself, he felt a deep sense of dread watching Jihyeon’s movements.

  Yet, they watched with fascination. Naturally, they were not immune to the lust for power. The sheer strength granted by a tool was intoxicatingly attractive. While it was a "bomb" that destroyed one's humanity in most cases—unlike Jihyeon—one couldn't help but wonder if it could be used differently. The thought of how strong they could become if they could master that power was enough to take their breath away.

  The human-turned-monster moved with terrifying speed, swinging its fists. It was a human tank, crushing solid walls with its bare hands. Its thick muscle acted as a shield, unbothered even by the balls of fire Jihyeon produced, and any wounds healed instantly. Against such a foe, death would be certain without anti-tank weaponry. Everyone was equal in the face of that death.

  That strength was a sublime terror.

  Whoever claimed that power for themselves would be invincible. It was enough power to claim an entire territory as one's own. While a modern state would never tolerate it, the story would be different in a third-world country. What better tool could there be to build a personal kingdom in a place where public authority had collapsed?

  The Boss understood why Jihyeon had warned them not to get involved with the tools, yet he found himself wanting it all the more. Perhaps it was because he had always lived a life faithful to his desires, taking whatever he wanted by any means necessary.

  But on the screen, there was an entity acting as a brake on those desires: Jihyeon.

  He manipulated fire at will. He moved at speeds a human could not follow and occasionally leaped to impossible heights. His movements were devoid of wasted energy, yet they were the height of spectacle. That a human could move like that was nothing short of a marvel.

  Watching Jihyeon use his tools so perfectly, the Boss realized that even if his organization obtained tools, they would simply be crushed before Jihyeon.

  Jihyeon occasionally moved so fast that even the cameras couldn't track him. Against a monster that even a tank might struggle with, he was demonstrating what a perfect battle looked like. There was no telling how long the fight would last, but Jihyeon fought the monster without allowing a single effective hit.

  The monster, which could no longer be called human, seemed tireless, but in the Boss’s eyes, it was slowing down—just a fraction at a time. Of course, it was still pure danger. Jihyeon, dodging by a hair's breadth while pouring out his attacks, was a near-miraculous existence.

  "We really were lucky. Maybe, like he said, it's better to just manage our turf and stay away from those tools," the Boss said with a hint of regret. He craved power more than anyone, but perhaps he sensed that now was not the time.

  "I agree, Boss. I don't know if we could handle that," the subordinate replied.

  Following this incident, the state would likely take a stance of absolute zero tolerance toward tools. Possession alone would bring severe punishment, or perhaps they would hunt them down entirely. The Boss smiled bitterly at the predictable future. For a while, his organization would be an easy target for the authorities. But being the only organization that didn't use tools could also provide a significant advantage.

  It would all come down to a balancing act.

  The Boss gave a wry smile. He felt regret at being unable to claim such a seductive power, yet he was pleased by the thought of the benefits that would come in its place. In this world, to gain one thing is to lose another.

  With that thought, he continued to watch the battle. His subordinates also watched the screen with serious faces—their expressions a mix of desire and lingering regret.