Wu beckoned her demons to proceed.

Entering the city was relatively easy. They had been infiltrating for years and now knew every nook and cranny. Once they arrived at the grand theater, the purple-haired demon sighed; the guards stood guard at each entrance. They could wipe them out quickly, yet the boss ordered them to focus only on the theater, and the orders couldn’t be discussed.

The group moved quickly from one roof to another, quietly climbing between the shadows. Suddenly, Wu felt a hand tingling, as if it wanted to move alone: her index pointing to a house hidden from prying eyes. She didn’t waste time and moved quickly in the indicated direction, followed by her demons, until she arrived in front of a small wooden door. Wu opened it with circumspection; inside, there was a small room, bare and austere, well-cleaned and tidy, despite looking like a shack from the outside. She heard footsteps approaching her left and right under a heavy Persian carpet. Everyone got into attack positions, weapons in hand. Under the thick fabric emerged the shape of a trap door that opened before their eyes, immediately followed by a pale hand. A young-looking girl looked at them with empty eyes and a wounded arm that bled profusely. Wu didn’t let her come out and plunged a dagger into her neck, causing the human to die immediately. A couple of demons dragged her out, freeing the passage. The blood mark on her arm pulsated faintly, then disappeared, releasing a faint crimson halo.

The group slipped into the hatch, trying to leave no trace behind. The secret passage was large enough and sufficiently illuminated. In 5 minutes, at a fast pace, they reached a metal door ajar. Wu peeked over it, empty, only roars and screams hovering in the air. With a curious and confused frown, the demons sneaked out of the tunnel and into the theater. The group moved quickly and quietly through the decorated halls, flattening against walls and ceilings as human patrols passed, all directed towards the west side of the building. The demons followed them like shadows and finally arrived at the backstage area.

Where two department stores communicated through a short corridor, now it had become a single large and destroyed room, with collapsed walls and pieces of wood, glass, and metal scattered everywhere. At the scene's center, there was a demon with olive skin and brown hair, full of blood and cuts. His red horns emerged from his long hair like two sharp daggers enveloped by slips of cracking thunder that seemed to go off every second. Around him, an audience of dead bodies and wounded humans looked at him, terrified. There were also various demons on the ground; they seemed not to have endured the clash.

The eyes of the muscular one rested on Wu, who smiled at him and made a sign to wait, then dissolved in the shadows of the large marble columns. She took some small packets of rolled leaves from the backpack on her shoulder and gave them to her team. “One for each column of the entire ground floor. You two go to the cages; in 3 minutes, we’ll all meet at the secret door.”

Kahn barely had time to lower his head to avoid a desperate blow. His legs suddenly gave out, and he fell to the ground. Now he was on the verge of strength; these humans never seemed to end.

A purple tuft drew his attention. The demon from before had returned to the room and was running toward him. She had short hair gracefully adhering to her head from which two small horns emerged, long, thin ears, and pink skin. Her green eyes stared at him intensely, in a severe expression that didn’t betray the slightest doubt. A guard came to her, wielding a hammer, and she raised a leg, hitting him in the neck, and quickly slammed him to the ground. The human figure melted at the height of the blow, emitting a light acrid smell. With a pirouette in the air, she tightened the neck of a second guard, choking him between her thighs and falling with an elegant somersault, plunging a dagger between his eyes. Then, approaching him, Wu lent a hand to Kahn as she asked, “How many are you?”

“Sixty-four counting children, but now I don’t think more than forty are still alive.”

She gently patted his shoulder, pushing his big body to make him walk faster while her gaze wandered in search of someone still alive. At the east corner, she saw one of her own, who had already completed the task entrusted, immediately followed by the other seven. The two demons she sent to the cages weren't anywhere to be seen. She beckoned one of her group to approach and told Kahn, “Go with him. I’ll meet you outside.”

Wu ran onto the stage, stepping on the curtains on the ground, and saw guards grabbing some minor demons. The kids tried to resist, but the men's strength was far greater than theirs, and the chains blocked their movements. The demon threw herself at the guards with a cold, murderous gaze and cut their hands clean, freeing the little ones.

“Captain!”

Wu turned in time to deflect a fatal blow to her head from a young human with very elaborate armor and a harpe blade tight in his fist: the new head of the city guards. 

“Filthy beasts.” Mark hissed, loading a second blow to fall on her. 

The demon kicked him in the side, sending him on all fours, and hastened to stab him with a dagger covered in pinkish rasuah, but he rolled sideways and avoided it. A single red line was drawn on a cheek, and he immediately stood up, ready to attack again.

Stop moving, you idiot, she thought, looking at his face as a slight pink halo covered the tiny, fresh wound.

“Captain!” her demon's voice got more insistent. There’s no time! She turned and ran to the two kids behind her, took them in her arms, and quickly headed to the meeting point, followed by a slightly injured Mark and several guards under his command.

The door was four feet away. “Get moving!”

The humans behind them shouted, “Stop if you dare, you fucking animals. STOP!”

Dammit. Wu threw one of the children to a companion. With her free hand, she reached into a pocket and pulled out a pebble the size of a marble. She stopped when she reached the door, opened it wide, and signaled the others to enter. The kid in her arms didn’t want to leave her, but she gently pushed him inside. “Don’t worry. It’s all right.”

The large group of escaping demons crowded at the threshold, making the humans flow pretty thorny. “Stay calm!”

“You’re trapped.” Mark smiled excitedly. Wu launched against him, covering the retreat. Still kicking, ah?

After several blows and parries, the man began to feel his vision blur and his body grow strangely heavy. What the hell is happening?

An evil grin was drawn on her face as he fell to the ground, slipping into the dense blood of one of the demons.

Finally! Even if hardly, her rasuah has taken root. It's not lethal, but enough to have a paralyzing effect. This human is a pain in the ass, but she was asked not to kill him, so she won’t. Instead, she kicked him in the face, cleverly avoiding the blows of the other guards. With momentum, Wu managed to get rid of the claustrophobic embrace of humans and slipped into the secret tunnel, followed by the guards, now tired and full of bruises and wounds. Mark held his dropping nose and ran in pursuit.

At a quick pace, Wu ran in the darkness, with one hand dragging the runic stone on the rough wall.

Hurry up!

Shaka stopped to observe the beautiful building in front of his green eyes. Behind his back, the complaints of those rich assholes annoyed him. The presence of Randal Duatiè was an essential element in situations like these: it kept everyone partially calm.

"Poor thing," thought the fake human, mentally giggling because of the extremely serious expression Randal had. He must have helped everyone out of the theater, yet now appeared oddly unwilling to intervene. After several comments that Shaka was not particularly interested in, The Chief walked away with the Aryo central family to resolve the situation. That is when Shaka noticed that Madame Shuì was looking for him, so he pushed her away with a smile, feeling a weight slip from his shoulders.

The Duatiè were not much different from the other clans except for a tiny detail: the good Randal and his faithful anti-demon hammer, Gallion's Pulse Breaker, a relic that could cost them everything. Not having him close was always a source of joy and calm, considering that the head of the Iron Mountain family didn’t shine for joyfulness or social skills as much as for a bad temper and a pole shoved up his ass.

Shaka put his hand on the shirt and reached for a metal box decorated with slight ruffles resembling butterflies. He opened it and took a new cigar, then, undisturbed by the human chaos, quickly placed his index and middle finger towards its tip, lighting it up. Even if someone had seen him, it didn't matter, because the art of sign was primarily human, not uncommon among the big clan and their shinat users. But it would have attracted many boring questions. He took a deep breath and exhaled. The aromatic smoke made the theater's image fade for a moment, then thin in the salty air.

“Are you for real?”

 ”It’s always a good time.” His green eyes turned to the old guard, smiling. Aron shook his head and sat on the ground on a step. “I’m too old for this. I hope they’re doing well there.”

Shortly after his words, Shaka heard the rune he gave Wu resonate, knowing well her agility in combat but her low level of acid corruption. The purple-haired demon just erased it from the stone she was carrying, signaling they were ready and out of the building. 

Shaka simply sat next to the man and took another breath. “They’ll be fine.” With his next exhale, the demon closed his eyes and activated the symbols on the leaves given to his group, preventing a crimson spark from flashing visibly in his eyes. He heard the runes respond to his command, swelling and exploding into many small blood droplets that attacked and pierced the theater's pillars. Some mingled unexpectedly with the red river on the floor and responded to his orders with renewed vigor. 

The building emitted a dry crack, and suddenly a cloud of dust rose, blinding everyone in the street.

“What the fuck?”

Screams responded to the collapse; the crowd was in turmoil. 

Aron suddenly got up. His eyes were petrified with fear. With impetus, he launched toward the theater, which continued to sink inevitably to the ground. Shaka quickly grabbed him, and the man wriggled out of his grip. “Let go. They're still inside, and my men are still there!”

“There’s nothing you can do right now. Don’t do anything stupid.”

The old guard slipped to his knees, his eyes wet and wounded by dust. The merchant put his hand on one of Aron's shoulders and squeezed it while he continued to smoke undisturbed.

Truly a fun night.