Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes.

Chapter 318, Section 65: Ugly Appearance

The giant brain flower lies silently on the ground, occupying the entire base of the original museum, making it appear even larger and exuding visual pollution and a sense of oppression.

Even the most hardcore brain flower enthusiasts couldn't help but be overjoyed.

Oshima glanced at the game's countdown subconsciously.

【00:00:01】

【00:00:00】

The first round of the ceremony has been completed and is currently being evaluated.

[Ceremony Completion Rate: 30%]

Overall rating: Excellent

[Countdown to the second round of ceremonies: 64:00:00]

The game system's prompts appeared simultaneously in the view of all players.

Compared to the first round of ceremonies, they were given 8 hours less time. Does this mean it's a reduction?

If we follow the order in the game's description, then this time, the Ripper's jealousy will be directed at appearance.

This concept is hard to visualize; you can't exactly target handsome men with violence, can you?

Moreover, as things stand, the only person who could rival the Ripper in appearance is probably the bell ringer of Notre Dame Cathedral.

Compared to them, everyone is handsome or beautiful.

"No matter what, we can't just stand by and watch. Let's test our abilities and see if we can damage this thing." Nobita looked at Iwasaki.

Iwasaki did not answer. He shook his black robe, which turned into black mist that surged into the sky. The surrounding sky responded in kind, and thick black clouds quickly gathered, obscuring the top of the giant brain.

Hayato couldn’t wait to activate the Flame Chariot, which transformed into streaks of light that crashed into and burned the massive brain tissue.

Nobita summons the Witcher to see if the opponent can figure anything out;
Uesugi exhaled and flicked the icicles.
However, all attacks—be it fire, frost, or Iwasaki's invisible hand—were completely neutralized by some strange force when they touched the surface of that enormous brain tissue, like a mud ox sinking into the sea, barely causing a ripple.

Even the combined attack between Hayato and Uesugi, which had previously worked in perfect harmony and was able to temporarily freeze and break through the gray matter, was now having little effect.

Yui crouched a little distance away, not making a move. She lacked direct combat ability, and just stared blankly at the furrows in the brain, her face inexplicably pale.

"Heh heh... Could it be because this ritual has already been completed that it's become so difficult to destroy?" Oshima asked, panting. He felt like his current attack was like trying to crash an iron mountain into Mount Everest.

It can't be shaken at all.

"Meow!"

Uesugi nodded vigorously at the cat, indicating strong agreement.

Geralt, who had been watching for a while, tried applying a bottle of sword oil and attacking with his silver sword a few times, but it didn't leave a single mark.

"A very pure and intense hatred, but not from a cursed being; it even carries a trace of the aura of a mythical creature. There must have been a formation set up here that had been accumulating for a hundred years, only activating today. During this time, all attacks will be neutralized by this hatred."

"But this array cannot operate indefinitely, and while it protects him, it also restricts him, preventing him from leaving the area."

"The best way is to disable the array and attack his main body directly. If it's convenient, just call me then. I won't charge you anything."

Geralt seemed quite interested in the Ripper and offered to help without pay.

Nobita naturally wouldn't refuse, but the price of a bottle of holy spring water for each summon was a bit too much for him.

The dark clouds in the sky slowly dissipated, and Iwasaki landed back on the ground, his tone still calm: "The power was neutralized. And that power used to neutralize it is like the ocean, endless."

Nobita bid farewell to Geralt, watching the portal disappear: "Hmm, it felt like we weren't attacking a single creature, but fighting against... an entire city, or a mountain, or a sea."

It's a very abstract feeling, tinged with a deep sense of powerlessness.

Just like how humans can never kill the ocean.

“If your crystals have just refreshed their cooldown,” Taki, who had been observing silently, suddenly spoke up, “you could try going back to the Whitechapel ruins to reactivate them. I suspect that new historical scenes might appear there after the first round of rituals.”

Upon hearing this, Iwasaki glanced at Yui beside him and said, "I'll go ahead first. See you in the player lobby in half an hour." He then transformed into a wisp of black mist, like a black smoke ball, and sped off towards the White Church.

Yui immediately summoned her charging magic carpet and followed the direction the black mist had gone, swaying slightly.

Uesugi deactivated his cat form and tried to activate the area in front of his brain, which was originally the entrance to the British Museum, using a crystal, but received no response.

"There are no nodes to activate here. Hayato, what did you see on the nodes you activated earlier?"

Just as Hayato was about to speak, Nobita looked up at the approaching helicopter formation and made a decision: "Let's talk about it together in the player lobby later. Let's leave this to the authorities for now. Maybe they can figure something out and at least seal it off."

The players had no objections and dispersed one after another.

Only now have the official forces, which have been on high alert on the periphery, dared to cautiously and gradually approach the massive brain tissue.

Soldiers and researchers alike looked up, their faces filled with disbelief, shock, and horror.

This thing is huge! If it really is a brain, then the creature that possesses it must be far larger than any giant in mythology.

It's unimaginable that the British Museum, which covers tens of thousands of square meters, would be completely covered by it. If such a creature were to fully reveal itself, it could probably flatten the entire City of London with a single step.

Inside the Whitehall underground emergency command center, Prime Minister Reyna shifted his gaze from the real-time transmission screen to a pale-faced, speechless general beside him.

"Give me an attack plan within one hour. Conventional weapons, weapons of mass destruction, and all unconventional options that we can use that might be effective."

The general swallowed hard, his voice hoarse: "Your Excellency, if I may be so bold, perhaps we should wait for more information from the Americans and Ms. Muramasa before taking any action. If our attack proves ineffective, it might even provoke a counterattack. All of London will witness our defeat; it will be a spectacle."

“A catastrophic blow to morale, a nightmare. I know.” Reina interrupted him, his gaze returning to the awe-inspiring behemoth on the screen. “But some things, even knowing that inaction might be the wiser choice, we must do. We need to send a message to the public that we are doing everything we can, we need to show our resolve. If the attack really doesn’t work,” he paused, his voice lowering, “it can also encourage more people who are still hesitating to leave the city temporarily.”

The general understood the unspoken meaning in the prime minister's words, his face paled even more, and he could only nod with difficulty before turning and quickly leaving to gather his staff to formulate a contingency plan.

Reina stood alone, silently staring at the gray, writhing mountain on the screen.

"Now, besides God, who can protect Britain? Has the Anglican doctrine truly deviated from the Lord's will, to the point that it cannot be redeemed?"

As the extraordinary manifestations and history gradually unveil the mysteries of the past, even atheists are wavering, not to mention believers who already had a fixed faith, most of whom are now even more convinced of the existence of the Lord.

After a long while, he finally let out a long sigh, took out his phone, and made a call.

"Your Majesty, regarding the invitation to the Pope, I understand."

In mid-air, Iwasaki deliberately slowed down a bit and waited for Yui.

"What did you feel?" Iwasaki asked.

"Yes, if I'm not mistaken, this ritual is actually extracting the hatred that London has accumulated over the years." Yui's ability is related to consciousness. When she gets close to the giant brain, she can feel an endless accumulation of hatred, which is as unbearable as eating shit for someone as mentally sensitive as her.

“Hatred.” Iwasaki roughly understood why Hayato said Oshima was much stronger than him. Because, like Ashiya Doman, hatred was also a negative emotion, which is why it was also suppressed by Oshima’s positive emotional abilities.

However, it seems that the Ripper cannot directly invoke this hatred, at least not for the time being.

Whitechapel ruins.

Ethan had been waiting here for a long time. In the last half day, he completely gave up on blindly searching for a possible location for the ritual in the city. After all, there were only three of them, and it would be difficult for them to compete with Nobi and the others.

So he chose to stay here, just for this moment after the ceremony ended.

He was eager to verify his hypothesis: would the initial key moments change once a round of rituals was completed?
If he is the first to activate the node, will he be able to see historical visions about the Templars, just like last time?

There were, of course, official personnel stationed here, but when Ethan demonstrated his extraordinary abilities, the guards readily withdrew, at most turning on their recording devices.

Ethan didn't mind and activated the crystal.

The ripples spread, and the scene changed; it was back inside that old church.

I stretched out my hand, and a burst of white light exploded in my eyes.

"Alan, you're doomed! Did you break the candlestick last night? The pastor picked it up today and a piece fell off. God, that candlestick has been around for hundreds of years!"

The first sound was a somewhat shrill voice. Ethan slowly adjusted to the light and could see that it was a man who should also be a servant.

At this moment, he had a gloating expression on his face, as if he were telling Allen the bad news in a well-intentioned manner.

As he spoke, he stared intently at Allen's face, trying to see a look of panic that would please him.

"No, it wasn't me! I swear, it might be Jack! I saw him come to get the candlesticks this morning!" Sure enough, the moment he heard this news, Allen showed great panic and even started to stammer.

The man chuckled twice: "Heh, how could that be? Jack is much more refined than you."

These simple words struck Allen like a thunderbolt. He stood there dumbfounded, his mouth agape for several seconds before his expression twisted in pain: "What does this have to do with being proper? Look at my clothes! I'm dressed properly today! I'm a proper gentleman today too!!"

Allen became more and more agitated as he spoke, his eyes turning red, and he reached out and grabbed the other person's collar.

Unfortunately, he was shorter than his opponent and was quickly freed.

"Damn it! You shabby wretch, everyone knows you borrowed these clothes! And someone actually dared to lend them to you. I wonder if he'll even be able to fit into them after he changes back. Let me be frank, no one will believe a word you say, you ugly freak!"

Annoyed by Allen, the man dropped his pretense and sneered, "Jack has already secured a job at the park and will soon be leaving this place as a servant. As for you, I don't think anyone will give you a job except for the kind-hearted priest! You'll be stuck here for the rest of your life!"

After he finished speaking, he straightened his collar, turned away disdainfully, leaving Alan with his head down, seemingly lost in thought.

"Alan Cross!"

The pastor's voice came from the doorway, hurried and angry.

Allen trembled, slowly raised his head, and looked fearfully in the direction of the pastor.

Ethan finally got a good look at Allen's face.

It's not just ordinary ugliness, it's the kind of ugliness that makes people uncomfortable just looking at it.

The two sides of his face seemed asymmetrical, with one eye larger than the other. He shouldn't be that old, but judging from his face alone, he looked at least forty or fifty.

The screen disappears here.

If we interpret the content literally, the person being resentful here is clearly someone who is jealous of appearance.

Moreover, a very specific character appears: "Jack" from the story.

If Allen wasn't lying, then he was clearly made a scapegoat by Jack and suffered punishment that wasn't his, so it's not surprising that he felt intense hatred.

The conversation also left clues, saying that Jack had already found a job at the park, which likely refers to the park itself, narrowing the scope considerably.

Unfortunately, no further clues were found regarding the Templars.

However, he actually had a backup plan.

Back in reality, he didn't linger; his figure quickly disappeared from everyone's sight.

He already had some clues about the Templar Knights he saw last time, and all that was left was the final confirmation.

Ethan suspects that the game "Anatomy of Britain" has a main storyline and a side storyline. His biggest advantage now is knowing the only side storyline and seeing if he can get any important clues or rewards from it.

As for the main storyline, let's do our best.

However, unlike Whitechapel, the nodes for activating side quests must be hidden, otherwise the almost ubiquitous surveillance and official personnel are likely to inform Nobita and his friends.

"Let's wait until tonight to take action."

He sent Arthur a private message, arranged a time, and then lay in wait in the city.

With the fall of the British Museum, London once again descended into riots, and many people who had finally decided to stay couldn't help but slap themselves in the face, thinking, "Is this place even fit for a human being?"
What's with that huge brain?!

They can accept that there are murderers in the city, they can accept extraordinary battles from time to time, and they can even accept smoke rising from the nearby hills.

But the sudden appearance of such a large brain was completely unacceptable to them, and they felt that their lives were in danger at any moment.

Of course, there are also those who are determined to defend their homes to the death. There are actually quite a few such people. For example, during the Florida disaster in America, many locals picked up weapons and resisted.

They decided to live and die with London and never give up.

At night, the streetlights lined up, creating a sea of ​​orange-red.

The air raid sirens were sounded, mainly to warn people near the museum to be aware of the shockwave and stay away from the museum.

The air was filled with the noise of bombers flying low overhead, and some people stood on the balconies of high-rise buildings, looking worriedly at the giant brain that was focused by multiple searchlights.

The bombing began.

The last time London was bombed was a century ago.

The citizens covered their mouths as they witnessed the roaring flames of the explosion, finally understanding part of the feelings of their predecessors at that time and realizing what the darkest hour truly meant.

After a full half-hour bombing, countless eyes watched in that direction with anticipation and tension, hoping to see the brain blown to pieces, or at least a few cuts.

Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. The flames attached to the brain mysteriously and quickly subsided, as if they had been inexplicably swallowed up, while the brain remained quietly standing in place, its folds and cortex maintaining a low-key undulation.

Visually, it appears completely undamaged.

(End of this chapter)