The man continued to swing his fists. He knew that a single clean hit would end the fight, so he threw his punches relentlessly.

  However, his stamina was beginning to wane. The price for moving to his absolute limits just to chase the elusive Jihyeon was steeper than expected. His joints held firm—strengthened by the tool, they endured the instantaneous load of his massive weight.

  But the muscles were different. While they didn't tear, the accumulated fatigue did not dissipate easily. As he repeatedly attempted sharp directional changes, testing the very limits of his recovery, his body grew increasingly heavy.

  The fear that he might lose began to dominate him. Though his reason had nearly vanished, his desire for victory remained. Having accepted his sins, the man pursued only triumph. He believed that killing his enemy and seizing victory would be the price paid for his atonement.

  But his opponent continued to slip away. Jihyeon evaded every strike and poured out a constant barrage of counterattacks. The pain—beyond mere heat, a sensation of skin being incinerated—was indescribable. Yet the power of the tool forced the man to keep fighting. His lungs were tortured to pull in air, and his heart was forced to beat far beyond its natural limits.

  Victory was all that mattered. It was the sole reason for his existence.

  He swung again. Once more, his fist grazed the opponent by a hair's breadth. It wasn't an effective hit. At the very last micro-second, the attack missed. The enemy avoided him as if reading the minute shifts in the airflow.

  Rage.

  Like the irritation one feels when things don't go as planned, the man became incensed. His emotions no longer had brakes. Pure, mindless fury. It made him move even more violently, but even with a tool, the limit eventually arrived.

  "Urgh..."

  The man’s lungs could no longer supply the oxygen his body demanded. His arms and legs became infinitely heavy, as if unable to support their own weight. He was forced to halt his movement. His head spun, and moving further was impossible. He wanted to rest. The sudden wave of exhaustion taught him the reality: he was racing toward destruction.

  But he couldn't stop. All that remained was pure desire—the singular thought of killing the enemy before him. Just one hit. He had dodged everything until now, but surely he had a limit too. One shot.

  Gasping for breath, the man felt his body—which had been out of control from overexertion—slowly return to a semblance of normality. He pushed himself up and walked forward. Though he staggered, his skeleton and muscles still obeyed his will.

  Slowly, he approached his opponent. For some reason, the enemy who had been moving with such annoying agility had suddenly turned quiet. This was enough. The man gathered all his remaining strength into his hand. Stepping forward, he swung at the enemy with everything he had.

  BOOM!

  An explosion rang out. The man felt his attack strike the opponent accurately. He felt the impact in his hand. It was a direct hit.

  But what followed was a horrific, agonizing pain.

  "Kuaaaaaakh!"

  The man rolled on the ground, clutching his hand. The unbearable pain made even this man—who had become little more than a mindless beast—scream in agony. He didn't know how or why this had happened. Rolling in agony was the only thing he could do.

  And then he realized. He had been completely defeated. The attack he had launched was of incomparable power—the best strike he had chosen to secure victory. It shouldn't have failed; it couldn't have failed.

  But this pain was too severe to be the price of victory. He was utterly neutralized.

  What about his enemy?

  He approached. Slowly, as if nothing had happened, the opponent walked toward him. It was a slow pace, incomparable to the speed from before, but he walked with a dignified, steady stride until he stood right before the man.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The man was terrified. As if the moment of mindless rage had never existed, he looked up at his opponent in sheer terror. Those eyes, devoid of any emotion, were so cold they struck fear even into the heart of the rampaging monster.

  "Aaaaaagh!"

  A sound close to a scream erupted from the man’s mouth. It was his final act of defiance, a struggle to stay alive. And it was a declaration of defeat.

  Crackle.

  The sound of electricity hummed. It was impossible to tell how high the voltage was. But that sound of searing air felt as if it were burning away the last remnants of reason that had peeked through his primal instinct. It would have been better if he couldn't judge the situation. The imagination created by his remaining reason drove him into deeper terror. Just anticipating the coming pain made him want to flee.

  But his body wouldn't move. His muscles and joints had endured the overexertion until now, but they had only just barely held on. His lungs, paralyzed by fear, couldn't supply enough oxygen. His body felt as if it were weighed down by lead.

  Crackle.

  He was coming. The enemy he could not overcome was closing in—the enemy of a man who had accepted a tool and abandoned his past just to pay for his sins. His right hand flashed as if the lightning of the gods was swirling within it, a force that nothing could stand against.

  The man screamed again. The more he imagined what would happen the moment that flashing hand struck him, the more terrified he became.

  He is coming. Destruction is coming. Pain is coming. Death is coming. Escape—

  The moment the man’s consciousness was about to spiral out of control, the world flashed with pain. And then, everything ended.

  The police line was at its breaking point. At this rate, everyone was going to die. The commander realized that, although he desperately wanted to avoid killing people, there was no other way.

  However, a massive explosion from behind them caused them to hesitate for a moment. That slight delay was a stroke of luck for the commander. Their salvation had arrived.

  Thud.

  Under a light that flashed as if mocking their eyes, those who had lost their reason and were attacking the police began to collapse one by one.

  "Sorry I'm late."

  A masked man approached them, his voice calm despite the battle he had just fought. He looked around, seemed to understand the situation, and spoke to the commander.

  "Your eardrums will burst. Tell everyone to cover their ears."

  The commander didn't immediately understand. But the man, hooded and masked, explained what was about to happen in clear, unmistakable terms.

  "I'm going to shout to neutralize them. If you hear it directly, your eardrums will burst, so tell everyone to cover their ears."

  Without hesitation, the commander issued the order. Fortunately, the officers on the scene followed the command faithfully despite the chaos. They couldn't all react perfectly, but as trained professionals, they had been educated on sonic weapons. Guessing it was something similar, the officers covered their ears. Once he confirmed everyone was ready, the man in the hood shouted.

  "—————"

  It was a sound that one could hardly imagine a human could produce. But more surprising than the sound itself was its sheer volume. The commander couldn't fathom how such a sound was possible. He had no time for questions; he could only kneel, covering his ears, and wait for it to end.

  The sound of windows shattering erupted from all directions. He could feel other objects nearby breaking under the pressure, even without looking. After enduring the shockwave that felt as if it would shake his very eyes and body, all that remained were the fallen enemies.

  They shuddered as if exposed to a massive shock, but they no longer possessed the will to fight. They were perfectly neutralized.

  Cough, cough.

  The man in the hood coughed, looking quite pained. But he soon looked relieved, as if the major problem had been solved.

  "I'll finish things up here. These people should return to normal now, so please handle the aftermath!"

  The man said this and then leaped away effortlessly. A moment later, a large bus rose into the air and landed in front of the police station with unbelievable lightness.

  "Situation resolved. The one who was controlling these poor people has been neutralized, so you can proceed with the investigation."

  The masked man smiled. The commander was speechless, looking at the person who had performed such impossible feats so casually. But there was one thing he had to say. It was a duty to the one who had resolved a situation they were powerless to handle.

  "Thank you for your help."

  Gratitude. The commander expressed his thanks. It was the only thing he could do for the hero who had saved them.

  "It was nothing."

  The man sighed and slowly began to fade away. The way he blurred and vanished before their eyes was like magic.

  "Huh?"

  The commander made a foolish sound, doubting his own eyes. But he had witnessed it: the fact that a being far beyond human limits—their only hope—had been with them.

  As he watched the other officers bring in the man who had collapsed in the distance, now returned to a normal human body, the commander felt it: the era he once knew was now completely severed from the past. Miraculously, every officer stationed there had survived without a single fatality, but he knew they couldn't count on such luck in the future.

  "Whew... we've entered a terrifying era."

  The commander looked around as he spoke. Although the situation was over, there was a mountain of work to do.

  "Get up, everyone! There's plenty to do!"

  He shouted, rallying his subordinates. From clearing the area to providing first aid and sorting the fallen, he faithfully carried out his duties. And so, the situation was slowly brought under control.