The battle erupted in an instant and ended within seconds. This well-trained FBI squad didn't even have time to fire a few shots before being completely suppressed by Vodka's berserk strength and Ran Mouri's ghostly precision with darts and close-quarters combat. They were either left with broken bones or knocked unconscious on the ground.
The Chevrolet Suburban didn't even come to a full stop; after dealing with the interceptors, it accelerated away, vanishing into the twilight and leaving behind a mess of unconscious agents.
Similar encounters played out repeatedly over the next 24 hours at different locations in and around Washington D.C. The FBI constantly received reports of target sightings, but every time they mobilized forces to the scene, they either found nothing or encountered small elite units that delivered crushing blows.
Kanjuro's group was like the most cunning of ghosts; their movements followed no pattern, yet they could always precisely avoid large-scale dragnets and conversely exploit the FBI's eagerness to lure small squads into traps, then ruthlessly destroy them. Vodka's strength and defense were like a human tank, Ran Mouri's speed and skill were like a dance of death, Vermouth's disguises and intelligence misdirection were impossible to guard against, and Jodie provided precise counter-strategy suggestions based on her deep understanding of FBI operational patterns.
And what made the FBI feel most powerless and terrified were Koizumi Akako's methods, which completely defied common sense.
Once, a group of FBI snipers finally managed to lock onto Kanjuro and the others on a balcony where they briefly appeared. However, at the very moment the snipers pulled their triggers, the air around the targets in their scopes distorted weirdly, as if an invisible ripple had spread. The bullets seemed to hit an absolutely hard barrier several meters from the targets, falling to the ground after a crisp clinking sound. Koizumi Akako merely glanced toward the snipers from a distance, and with a flash of light from the ruby on her finger, the outer wall of the building where the vantage point was located was suddenly covered in eerie, vein-like red patterns. Immediately after, the snipers felt a bout of intense heart palpitations and dizziness, losing their combat capability.
Another time, the FBI tried to use heavy vehicles to set up a roadblock, coordinated with aerial helicopter tracking. Koizumi Akako simply chanted a few obscure syllables, and countless tough, thorn-covered vines suddenly grew from the ground (on a concrete road!), not only entangling the vehicles but even tightly snagging the rotors of a low-flying helicopter, forcing it to make an emergency landing.
Flames, frost, illusions, energy barriers... the power of Scarlet Magic, set against the backdrop of a modern city, displayed an absurd and terrifying potency, completely overturning the FBI agents' worldview and tactical understanding. Physical laws seemed to fail for Kanjuro's group at certain moments and places.
The FBI suffered heavy losses, and morale was severely damaged. Their proud intelligence network, tactical cooperation, and high-tech equipment appeared clumsy and powerless against the opponent's elusive movements, individual combat prowess, and completely incomprehensible "magic." The commanders' faces grew grimmer by the day, and the hearts of Kudo Yusaku and the others sank bit by bit.
They finally realized that Kanjuro's arrival this time was not for a stealthy infiltration or sabotage, but a hunting parade to showcase his martial might. He intended to use the FBI's blood and failure to prove that his declaration was no empty boast, to trample on the dignity of Eagle Country's law enforcement agencies, and ultimately... to point toward that initial target.
The third day, late at night.
After a series of dazzling maneuvers and tactical deceptions, Kanjuro's group appeared like phantoms on the rooftop of a high-rise building near the FBI headquarters—the J. Edgar Hoover Building—on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington D.C.
The night wind howled; below them was the grand building, still brightly lit, symbolizing the core of Eagle Country's federal law enforcement power.
Kanjuro stood with his hands behind his back, looking down at the building with a cold smile playing on his lips. The hem of his charcoal-grey coat fluttered in the wind.
"The appetizer of the game is about finished," he spoke faintly. "It's time to go and 'greet' the hosts."
Ran Mouri stood by his side, cold flames dancing in her eyes—a light woven from revenge and the desire to perform. "Father, let me go."
"Of course," Kanjuro gently stroked her hair, his movement carrying intimacy and approval. "You and Akako go together. Give our 'old friends' an... unforgettable 'greeting.' Remember to give'special attention' to Kudo Yusaku, Kuroba Toichi, and... that little detective who just won't give up."
"Yes." Ran Mouri's response was brief and firm.
Koizumi Akako languidly brushed her long hair, the ruby at her fingertips reflecting a demonic light. "Toying with the symbol of power in this concrete jungle? Sounds much more interesting than dealing with those small fry."
Vermouth chuckled: "Don't play too hard and tear the building down, though that scene would certainly be spectacular."
Vodka silently checked the heavy equipment they had brought.
Kanjuro's gaze returned to the FBI Headquarters; deep within his purple eyes lay absolute darkness and control.
"Go. Let this building remember our names tonight."
Ran Mouri and Koizumi Akako exchanged a look, and their figures leaped from the edge of the high-rise rooftop at the same time! Without ropes or hang gliders, Ran Mouri relied on her superhuman physical abilities to kick off the building's facade several times, swooping toward the target like a black night bird; meanwhile, Koizumi Akako was surrounded by a dark red magical glow that carried her slowly downward, like a witch descending to the mortal realm.
The quiet night at FBI Headquarters would be completely shattered. An attack targeting its core figures and aimed at maximum humiliation of the agency officially began. Meanwhile, Kanjuro looked down from the clouds, waiting for the prey's panicked reaction, enjoying the pleasure of controlling everything. FBI Headquarters, the J. Edgar Hoover Building, a symbol of federal law enforcement power built with cold lines and heavy concrete, was far more complex and precise inside than it appeared. At this moment, the midnight silence had been completely torn apart, replaced by the shrill scream of alarms, flashing crimson warning lights, and scattered sounds of crossfire, explosions, and muffled groans of pain from various passages.
The building's defense system was fully activated. Alloy gates crashed down to block key passages, high-voltage currents crackled across specific metal surfaces, ventilation ducts sprayed fast-acting anesthetic gas, laser tripwires crisscrossed dark corridors into a death grid, and automatic machine gun nests hidden behind ceiling panels or walls rotated their muzzles... This was a death maze designed to handle the most extreme attacks, enough to make any conventional special forces unit find it impossible to move an inch.
However, the intruders were not "conventional."
Kanjuro walked at the front, his pace still leisurely as if strolling in his own backyard. He didn't even lift a hand, merely sweeping his gaze around. Those laser beams capable of cutting through steel, upon nearing a three-meter radius around him, seemed to fall into an invisible mire—the light distorted, dispersed, and finally vanished silently. The fire control systems of the automatic machine guns would overload and smoke the moment they locked onto him, failing silently. The sprayed anesthetic gas was blown back by an invisible force, instead causing the security personnel lying in ambush to collapse.
He was like a walking "nullification" field; wherever he passed, the precise killing arrays forged by modern technology melted and disintegrated like ice and snow meeting sunlight. This was the most direct manifestation of the dark bible's authority—a local negation and distortion at the level of rules.
Ran Mouri followed closely by Kanjuro's side; her fighting style was sharper, a more visually stunning aesthetic of violence. Facing a suddenly descending alloy gate, she didn't dodge. Instead, she took a deep breath, her slender foot slamming into the ground. The floor tiles shattered like a spiderweb, and using the recoil, her fist, wrapped in invisible qi, smashed heavily against the thick alloy door!
"Boom!!"
Amidst the ear-grating screech of deforming metal, a clear fist print appeared in the center of the gate—which was strong enough to withstand a rocket attack—its edges distorted and torn as she forced open a gap large enough for a person to pass through with sheer brute strength! She moved through, her black combat suit making her figure look as agile as a cheetah. Occasionally, stray bullets or electric crossbow bolts fired from tricky angles would be dodged with her incredible flexibility and speed, or precisely parried by the special short blade in her hand, the blade's edge striking metal and sending sparks flying.
Koizumi Akako followed slightly behind, acting more as the "cleaner" and "atmosphere creator" of this breakthrough. She didn't even bother using high-powered magic against those automatic weapons. When a hidden machine gun nest popped out, she merely extended a slender jade finger and gave a light tap. The metal components of those machine guns instantly turned red-hot and softened, twisting and dripping like melting candles, turning into a pile of useless scrap iron. Encountering complex electronic locks or encrypted doors requiring passwords, a red glow flickered in her eyes, and the access control system would spray sparks, display garbled code, and then "click" open automatically. Wherever she went, cold technological creations were either melted or disabled by eerie magical erosion. Combined with the nonchalant smile at the corner of her mouth and her swaying dark red robes, she looked like a dark goddess strolling through a steel jungle, casually wiping away bothersome dust.
The combination formed by the three—Kanjuro's absolute field, Ran's violent breakthrough, and Akako's magical annihilation—made the layers of defense meticulously arranged by FBI Headquarters seem as laughably flimsy as paper. They moved as if in an uninhabited land, following the core passage, constantly moving upward toward the high-level area where the command center was located.
Meanwhile, on the top floor of the headquarters building, inside the urgently reinforced strategic command room.
Kudo Yusaku, Shinichi Kudo, and a few high-ranking commanders and technicians were staring intently at the monitoring screens covering the entire wall. On the screens, footage from multiple areas kept turning into static or freezing on terrifying scenes of destruction. Three light points representing the intruders (barely tracked through vital signs and energy residues) were breaking through layer after layer of defense like a hot knife through butter, heading straight for their location.
"All automatic defense systems... have almost completely failed!"
"All tactical squads sent out have lost contact!"
"Abnormal energy readings... cannot be analyzed! Especially that red-haired woman and the leading man!"
"They... they simply aren't something humans can fight against!"
Panic spread through the air, even though these were elites who had weathered many storms.
Kudo Yusaku's face was grim. He quickly switched through the footage, trying to analyze the intruders' patterns and weaknesses, but the more he watched, the more his heart sank. Kanjuro's ability to ignore physical laws, Ran's inhuman strength and speed, Akako's completely incomprehensible magic... this had already exceeded the scope of traditional crime or terrorist activity, nearing the descent of beings from myths and legends into reality.
"Father! They're almost at our floor!" Shinichi Kudo's voice carried an irrepressible tremor, not just from fear, but from the pain and anger of seeing his former childhood friend turned into such a terrifying form. He watched the figure on the screen where Ran sent a riot shield flying with one punch, her eyes cold and devoid of emotion. He knew that the gentle and kind Ran Mouri, who would be happy over a karate match victory and cry for her friends, was completely dead. The one living was Kanjuro's sharpest weapon, his most twisted "work."
"Shinichi, calm down!" Kudo Yusaku barked, his sharp gaze sweeping over his son. Seeing the struggling pain in his eyes, his heart also ached, but he knew now was not the time for sentimentality. "Conventional means are ineffective. Activate the 'Final Protocol'."
"Final Protocol?" a commander asked in shock.
"Abandon all electronic systems and automatic defenses; they're useless against them," Kudo Yusaku spoke very quickly. "This command room has independent heavy physical protection and manual weapon systems. More importantly... we still have one last chance."
He pointed to the monitoring screen at the three figures who had just broken into the hall on the floor below them. The hall was the last open space leading to the command room and the preset final sniper point.
"Here," Kudo Yusaku pointed to several carefully calculated sniper positions in the hall, "and here. I deployed specially made armor-piercing sniper rifles in advance. The bullets are the latest prototypes developed by the lab specifically for 'abnormal energy individuals,' said to be able to interfere with energy fields to some extent. Manually controlled, they aren't affected by electronic interference."
He looked at his son, his gaze complex but firm: "Shinichi, your marksmanship is excellent. I need you to hold Position Two. I'll take Position One. Targets—Kanjuro, and... Ran Mouri. Prioritize Kanjuro, but if an opportunity arises, do not hesitate."
Shinichi Kudo was shaken to his core, looking at his father in disbelief: "Kill... kill Ran?" Even though he knew she was no longer who she used to be, hearing those words spoken aloud still felt like a knife to his heart.
"She is no longer 'Ran', Shinichi!" Kudo Yusaku's voice carried a rare severity and a hint of pain. "She is one of the most dangerous weapons in Kanjuro's hands, the killer of our comrades! Look at the monitors! Look at how she broke through the defenses! Now, her eyes only hold Kanjuro's orders! Being sentimental will only get us killed, and everyone else in this building who is still resisting!"
Shinichi Kudo's face was as pale as paper, his fingers digging deep into his palms until they bled. Every word from his father was like a hammer hitting his heart. Logic told him his father was right, but emotionally... the image of the girl smiling at him under the cherry blossom trees overlapped with the cold, murderous figure on the screen, making him almost break down.
"I... I can't do it..." He lowered his head in pain.
"You must do it!" Kudo Yusaku suddenly grabbed his son's shoulders, forcing him to look into his eyes. "For those who have died, for those still alive, and for... the real Ran Mouri who might still be struggling in some corner of that body! Ending her pain is also ending Kanjuro's atrocities! This is the only chance we might have to hurt them!"
Shinichi Kudo looked up abruptly, his eyes bloodshot, tears mixing with extreme pain and struggle. Finally, the rationality belonging to a detective seeking truth and justice, along with the desperate desire to end this endless nightmare, overrode his personal feelings. He nodded slowly and heavily, squeezing out a few words from between his teeth: "I... I understand."
Father and son spoke no more, quickly grabbing the prepared sniper rifles and rushing to the preset sniper positions with thick bulletproof glass and firing ports. Kuroba Toichi and the other commanders retreated to the reinforced shelter at the innermost part of the command room, waiting tensely.
In the hall below.
Kanjuro, Ran, and Akako stepped into this final open area. The hall was several stories high, surrounded by corridors, with a glass dome at the top. Moonlight filtered through the glass, casting cold patches of light on the floor.
Kanjuro stopped, looking up slightly, his gaze seemingly piercing through layers of floorboards to land directly on the Kudo father and son at the sniper point above. A knowing arc curved at the corner of his mouth.
"It seems the hosts have prepared a'special welcome'," he said softly, as if talking to himself.
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