158. Crime City (1)
People often call the police the staff of the common folk, but in the pre-apocalypse era when information spread rapidly through SNS and YouTube, they were frequently satirized for their incompetence. In reality, untrained officers had pathetically low stamina, couldn't even subdue suspects properly, or resorted to unnecessary excessive force—enough to breed widespread distrust.
"Police? They're just ownerless mutts by now, aren't they? You think those cops can actually catch us?"
"This country's basically just a signboard! No real public authority left! Hahaha!"
The looters emerging now scoffed at the policing power of every faction, brimming with overconfidence that even if cops showed up, they wouldn't dare suppress or attack men who'd tasted blood. After all, even the Daegu provisional government had fallen to looters, giving them a boastful achievement to intimidate and terrify opponents. It was mockery of the collapsed public authority in the apocalypse—and the looters infiltrating Gyeongju thought the same: no one there could touch them; they'd just stand by dumbfounded.
…But how foolish that choice was became a brutal lesson for the infiltrators, learned in their own flesh.
"Kek?!"
"What the—? They're weak."
Their foes weren't the out-of-shape, civilian-subduing failures mocked on SNS and YouTube. They were the mighty cudgel of the state, wielding grand and beautiful violence. Historically, to criminals, this was the "weakness" they deserved—a living war machine honed in the Ulsan front, prepared for blood-tasters like these.
Sure, they'd tasted blood, but looters were opportunistic calculators at heart, never risking their necks against stronger foes. They hunted the weak, stealing goods and lives. Their levels as Awakeners weren't sky-high, and even high-ranking looter officers couldn't stand against true Superhumans come to purge them.
"We've got the perimeter locked down. Handle it as you see fit."
"Got it. These bastards are really hunkering down in their base, huh? Line up single file now that I'm here—what's with making me come inside?"
The woman striding brazenly into the looters' makeshift base was a seasoned warrior, a bona fide hero who'd liberated regions and shone in the Ulsan War. The Balhut Cult had invested aggressively here, equipping the perimeter police with gear billed as "non-lethal" but barely different from frontline weapons. So when these two, armed to the teeth, were deployed...
"Gaaahhh?!"
"Wh-what the hell is this strength...? You monster bitch!"
"Who's the monster bitch? Jeez. If you're gonna torment people, at least be ready to get it back at you, right?"
It was like a high-level player—not user, but a rotten stagnant pool of one—dropping into a lowbie hunting ground to massacre innocents. Jin A-yeon and Han Seong-geun? No grounds for these thugs to win. Gear? State-backed police got infinite resupply. Numbers? Laughable— that was their strong suit, but the Cult churned out fresh Awakeners quarterly via Bahamut's perfected project. With the will, they could flood police ranks with newbies, and Prime Minister Hwang Geun-chul had done just that on Dragon Priestess Yu-na's firm orders.
Even if looters wanted a numbers game, their foes were already playing it harder. Quality gap? A laughably stupid question.
"This can't be real!"
"Why's a Superhuman here?! We barely escaped this far!"
"M-mercy!"
As mentioned, these were Ulsan front survivors—heroes of reversal, their stacked power placing them among the world's top Awakeners. Superhumans over level 20 were rare globally, an elite few. No need to describe the fight: Jin A-yeon entered the base. Jin A-yeon rampaged. Looters purged. Three sentences summed it up.
"Good work, A-yeon."
"Pfft, easy. They were just trash."
Han Seong-geun thanked the woman who'd soloed a looter group disguised as refugees. She shrugged it off, casually swinging her spear to flatten nearby stragglers. He didn't even need to step in; she could've handled their full rush alone. The escorting police just held the perimeter and cleaned up—no more.
For cops steeling themselves to subdue criminals and restore order, it felt insultingly trivial.
Monster.
She's a monster.
Monster indeed.
The rookie Awakener cops, awed by her display, silently tidied without a hint of defiance. She wasn't local—rumors said Jeong Dong-gun's recommendation parachuted her in as chief and deputy. To these project grads who'd clawed for spots with promised perks, she looked like a battlefield hotshot stealing top seats from true mentors. Resentment brewed; they'd test her competence...
But that scene? They'd sworn never to sass or rebel.
"Whoa, she's a monster. That's a Superhuman?"
"Second time seeing her, but she's even stronger now. Still a monster."
Civilian liaison Kim Tae-hyeon called her a monster, utterly alien, voicing his fear. Reporter Kang Jae-wan, who'd covered many Awakeners, noted her growth and echoed the verdict. Unlike their cop-movie brawl expectations, it ended in three lines: entry, rampage, collapse.
Not that the looters were weak.
"Those bastards tormented us bad."
"Yeah?"
"But one rampage and they drop. Water muscles?"
"Nah. Superhumans are just that nuts."
Their notoriety peaked among civilians, damages immense. Kim Tae-hyeon, often out on food truck runs, had lost trucks or had them wrecked by refugee-disguised looters—horrific losses. He knew their savagery firsthand, making this scene unbelievable. Superhumans were impressive in tales, but this impressive? Unimaginable.
"Hey, newbies! Quit yapping and grab the mana-suppressant cuffs. We're arresting these scum on the spot."
"""""Yes ma'am!"""""
Their chatter ended there. Thud. Spear-tip slamming ground, Jin A-yeon barked to get moving. Rookies snapped to disciplined attention; even Kim Tae-hyeon and Kang Jae-wan got dragged in.
Jin A-yeon herself?
"I look old!"
"Got it, sis!"
"Jeez."
She hated the "sis" tag, pulling a genuinely annoyed face—but that sealed her dominance over the force. Doubts vanished; dissenters were gone. With such overwhelming gap, envy yielded to respect; defying her would mark you as the weirdo.
"The sweep's easier than expected."
"This ain't easy?"
"Yeah. Forces dispersed, efficiency's shot. Need more brass on-site."
But Han Seong-geun grumbled: looters scattered, ops inefficient. High-level cadres were needed, but most were Cult veterans from day one. Ulsan knew him, but others didn't—and Ulsan couldn't spare troops. So Gyeongju brass got reassigned, breeding inevitable gripes and suspicion.
"What're you eyeing?"
"Sorry, sir!"
Solution? Deploy tactical nuke Jin A-yeon. Subjugate all doubts, cement hierarchy. For the war on crime ahead, minor grumbles were a price for unbreakable momentum.
Plus, as a "parachute," Han had one ironclad edge.
"Where next?"
"National Tax Service flagged a crime org. They pay taxes clean, so NTS left 'em alone. Perfect debut win for our new force."
If Jin A-yeon's brawn shone, Han's admin and command maximized it. Jeong Dong-gun picked him over adjutant Son Sang-hee for deputy—command guaranteed. Years resisting Immortal Cult honed ops and bureaucracy. Using Cult intel nets, he cross-checked refugee flows into Balhut turf, dispatching apt squads. They captured disguised looters bloodlessly, stacking wins.
"Compared to Ulsan? Cakewalk."
Ulsan was hell—one slip meant wipeout. Here? Intel, dispatch, done. Easy for him.
"Ain't he scarier?"
"Watch it. That hits your evals hard."
"Exactly. Scary."
Plenty matched Han's level; even with Jin A-yeon, fear targeted her, not him. But he wielded chief powers masterfully—evals as leverage crushed rebellion. Defy, and promotions stalled. At this height? Career death. No one dared.
Thus, Han swiftly seized command, admin, and evals—ruling high brass as a reaper scarier than Jin A-yeon.
"Man, crime orgs everywhere."
"Blood-tasters won't reintegrate easy. Restoring old order takes time anyway."
Couldn't stem the tide fully. Root? Seoul's Kim Su-ho abandoning his zone, unleashing chaos. Gyeongju-Pohang feats didn't dent it; looters grew bolder, coalescing into warlords.
"Ulsan's busy, but this? Slammin' crooks is gettin' fun."
"No excessive force. Cabinet hearings on human rights await."
One brake on their style: pre-apoc unthinkable brutality, blood gushing TV/YouTube-bannable. They'd even hose Bahamut Bullets if needed—rights nightmare back then. Cabinet eyed Jin A-yeon warily...
"Seriously? Human rights gripes in this apocalypse?"
Not really—pre-apoc logic, glossed over now. They subdued alive; regen and holy magic fixed cripples quick. Death commonplace? Rights felt trivial in hell.
"Plenty. Surprised me. Clueless? Or life's good enough for side-thoughts? Dunno."
Flip side: Cult thriving enough for "rights" talk proved reconstruction success—in Gyeongju-Pohang. Outside? Still dark hell.
"Wanna parade sites to 'em. Gotta maim a few looters to suppress easy. Idiots think we're soft on Awakener crooks—'cause we call 'em criminals, they see petty thieves?"
Jin A-yeon blasted cabinet for viewing prey as "livelihood criminals." See the scale firsthand? Minds changed.
"US calls Awakener crooks 'villains.'"
"Spot on. We heroes then?"
"Just cops. Need systemic fixes. Since I can face Yu-na direct, I'll report myself."
US segregated them as villains; Han pushed Cult reforms—treat looters as society-threatening villains, not petty crooks.
"Hang in there, Han-uncle. Me, one-trick brute? Can't help more."
Jin A-yeon just cheered him on—no further aid possible. Aftermath was his turf, not a field op grunt's.
Right? Got it?