Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes.

Chapter 344, Section 91: Fear Food

The waters off Tokyo Bay.

The waves surged.

A clear boundary line, from the sky and from the sea, divides the world.

Within the boundary lies a wall of ink-black clouds that engulfs the entire Japanese archipelago, surging and rolling like an inverted inkwell. The clouds hang so low that it is difficult to breathe, and lightning occasionally flashes within them, which is the only sliver of light that can penetrate the dark clouds.

Under the dark clouds and rain, even the sea was stained leaden gray, lifeless and desolate.

Beyond the boundary lies the normal, gloomy yet at least human-made sky.

From satellite cloud images, this massive black dome resembles a coffin, completely isolating Japan from the outside world. Any signal within it is lost forever.

The US-Japan joint fleet, which had recently escaped from Yokosuka by express courier, lingered slowly, waiting for the second fleet to join them.

Commander McCullough stood on the bridge of the aircraft carrier, holding binoculars, silently staring into the darkness.

"Received an underwater knock."

"Voice command confirmation".

"Quick identification passed, Commander, the Kaga is out!"

McCullough nodded slightly. Through his telescope, he could already see a fleet emerging from the shadows, its hulls appearing as if coated with a layer of black oil.

"Meet up, but maintain a safe distance."

"Yes."

On the Kaga, the damage control officer never dreamed that one day his task would be to spray the ship's crude oil into the sea.

"Don't let the black rain touch the precision instruments!"

"Keep up the work, let's get the black grime off the glass first!"

The fleet was bustling with activity, with most of the crew members on board joining the effort to clear the black rain.

They should be thankful, thankful that the fleet was able to escape this hell.

Inside the bridge of the Kaga, the Japanese Prime Minister, a man whose temples had turned gray from enduring a series of extraordinary disasters, looked at the gloomy sky, pursed his lips, and could no longer hold back his emotions.

Those damn dark clouds again!
He felt utterly exhausted.

The Demon Mist's signature ability is black clouds; last time, it burned down the Tokyo Shrine of Souls, although strictly speaking, it was Ami who threw the fire.

The defense minister who was cooperating with the US military was killed by the right wing. He still feels lingering fear about that incident and had to appoint a cautious and mediocre person to take over. He voluntarily gave up some power, which made his control over the Extraordinary Measures Department much weaker than before.

Now, he has barely managed to hold out until Tokyo has begun to restore order, and he has finally waited until those damned supernatural disasters seem to have shifted their focus and are no longer fixated on Japan.

He had even prepared his speech for a successful and dignified retirement, just waiting for the right moment to announce his resignation and put a barely acceptable end to his hellish prime ministerial career.

But it was precisely at this moment, just when he thought he could finally catch his breath and unload the heavy burden, that he was relieved!
A massive, surging black cloud and torrential rain, enough to engulf Japan, appeared without warning.

What is this? Is fate playing a cruel joke on me?!
The Prime Minister's inner voice was already screaming uncontrollably.

Looking at the familiar aircraft carrier bridge layout before him, a strong sense of déjà vu washed over him.

During the first disaster at Mount Fuji, he fled land in the same panic, came to the Kaga, and ultimately had to ask the United States to use nuclear weapons.

This is also why his future career prospects were completely ruined.

Originally, this responsibility should have been shared equally between him and the Emperor, but the Emperor feigned illness at the time, shifting all the pressure and responsibility onto him alone! He had no choice but to bite the bullet and act as a true hero.

It seems that every action has its own destiny. Could this be retaliation against Japan?

His ambitions before taking office have been completely eroded by these successive blows. Now he just wants to step down as soon as possible, keep a low profile for a few years, and then go to a safe country to stay for a long time under the guise of tourism.

Logically, they should have taken the Emperor with them during this evacuation, since the Emperor is, after all, a symbol of the nation.

However, the Emperor, who had no balls, had been hiding in the Kyoto Imperial Palace ever since the incident in Tokyo and dared not stay in Tokyo at all. Therefore, after losing contact, they could not ascertain the situation in Kyoto, nor could they risk sending someone to pick them up. They could only hurriedly leave with the main force of the fleet that could be assembled in Tokyo Bay.

"Any new information from Admiral McCullough? Has the US side proposed any effective countermeasures?"

The Prime Minister finally forced himself to suppress his turbulent emotions, turned around, and asked the current Defense Minister beside him, whose face was equally solemn and somewhat fearful.

The Minister of Defense hesitated for a moment, a look of embarrassment on his face, before finally speaking in a voice only the two of them could hear:
"Admiral McCullough's reply was...etc."

"Wait?" His face turned ashen, and he almost couldn't catch his breath.

Before communications were completely cut off, they had already received sporadic reports of monsters from Gotemba, Shizuoka, and other areas. Coupled with this ominous black rain, every minute they waited meant a terrifying increase in casualties and losses.

He angrily clenched his fist, wanting to say something, but unable to utter a word.

His reason ultimately prevailed, and now waiting was indeed the most effective solution.

What else can we do besides wait?
Should we send our fleet into that unknown, dark cloud that can completely block out even signals, to our deaths?
Before understanding the nature of the dark clouds and rain, and before finding the demon's weakness, any rash action could lead to an even more terrible disaster.

They just have different perspectives, and therefore think differently.

The Prime Minister slumped down, loosening his clenched fist. He understood McCullough's decision; from a military and strategic perspective, it was the right and prudent choice.

"Isn't there really no probing method at all?" The Prime Minister asked, somewhat unwillingly, as if addressing the Defense Minister, or perhaps himself. "Even a small-scale reconnaissance mission, or some kind of new technological experiment?"

The Defense Minister shook his head very slightly, his face pale, and added, "Admiral McCullough has emphasized that he will never allow the fleet to risk entering the Black Cloud Zone when the situation is unclear. However, he also said that they also have a large number of military personnel and advisors trapped in Japan, and he will not stand idly by. He will act immediately once a feasible solution is found."

This is perhaps the only comforting news; Amei herself has people caught up in it, and they will not completely stand idly by.

He didn't say anything more and slumped heavily into his chair.

At this time in Japan, demons, like a plague, had already begun to spread across the island along with the black rain.

In large cities, if there are troops stationed nearby and the commanders are relatively human-like, then the defensive battle can barely maintain order.

The soldiers relied on fortified buildings and barricades, and used various weapons to resist step by step.

Police were responsible for evacuating and guiding civilians into underground bunkers and assisting in maintaining order inside. Communication relied entirely on shouting, signal flares, or messengers running. Although casualties were heavy, the defense line had not yet collapsed.

However, some units, in order to protect themselves, held their ground at their camps, ignoring the fate of nearby cities. They set up machine guns and aimed them at any "unidentified objects" that tried to approach their camps, whether they were demons or civilians fleeing from disaster.

However, many cities are located in areas without military garrisons, and the only force they can rely on is the police force, which has recently been reinforced with firepower.

These police officers, who usually deal with armed criminals, are barely effective against demons.

Many police squads crumbled within minutes of encountering the demons; their attempts to stop them may have only bought nearby civilians a little time to escape. Perhaps because big cities attract more demons, many sparsely populated small towns and villages are relatively safe.

Nagoya.

A boy ran desperately through the dark, rain-soaked streets, not daring to look back.

He had already lost one of his shoes while running, and the soles of his feet were cut by pebbles and glass shards, leaving faint bloodstains behind him, which were quickly washed away by the black rain.

From different directions in the city, the sounds of explosions and flashes of fire could be heard from time to time, the sounds of the army or police still fighting against the demons.

In his panic, he had no idea how to tell which way to go, so he just rushed forward, relying on his survival instinct to get as far away from what was behind him as possible.

"Is anyone there?! Please! Open the door! Let me in and hide!" He stumbled and rushed to the front of a house that looked relatively intact, pounding on the door with all his might. His tearful pleas were no match for the sound of the rain.

Inside the door, there was a deathly silence.

He wiped the black rain and tears from his face, struggled to his feet, and reluctantly walked around to the side of the yard, only to find that the French windows were shattered and wide open. On the wet ground, there were several messy and blurry footprints pointing deeper into the house.

His heart was pounding. He tried to calm his breathing and carefully walked into the corridor, looking at the dark staircase at the end.

"Excuse me...is anyone there?" he whispered, barely audible to himself, toward the pitch-black stairwell leading to the second floor. "Can I...can I hide here for a while?"

A few seconds later, just as he felt uneasy and was about to turn around and leave, a kind, slightly distressed female voice came from the dark stairwell.

"My poor child, come here quickly, it's safe here."

The boy's breath caught in his throat, his face filled with disbelief. He knew that voice all too well! It was unmistakably his mother's voice! But...it couldn't be! Absolutely impossible!
He turned and ran away immediately!
My parents stayed in the house to block the monster; they couldn't possibly be here!
He returned to the sticky streets and ran forward recklessly. However, the shouts behind him seemed to stick to him, always clearly reaching his ears, impossible to shake off.

"My son, don't be afraid. Mom is here."

Let Mommy take a good look at you and give you a hug.

"Don't run away, sweetie. Come back to Mommy."

The boy completely broke down, running and crying.

"Waaaaah, help!"

"help me!"

Finally, in his frantic escape, he stumbled into a dead-end alley filled with discarded debris and blocked off by a high wall.

There is no escape.

The boy leaned against the cold, damp wall, his body trembling violently from fear and exhaustion, and slowly turned around in despair.

In the darkness, the thing that had spoken his mother's voice slowly walked in from the alleyway.

"Hehe. Good boy. It's good that you're not running away." The voice was still gentle.

By the fleeting flash of light from the distant explosion, the boy finally saw its true form.

What came into view was a disgusting monster with many long, thin limbs, a large belly like a spider, and bumpy skin covered in human flesh.

"Go back to your mother's womb; it's the warmest and safest place there."

Darkness swallowed the boy whole.

Half a minute later.

A golden light rose into the sky from not far away, flew through the night sky, and then, as if it had found its target, charged toward the monster whose body was swaying incessantly in the alley.

boom!
A blinding golden light suddenly exploded, accompanied by a sharp scream from the monster, and half of its body instantly disintegrated, turning into countless acrid fragments flying everywhere.

As the dazzling golden light faded, Oshima stood amidst the monster's remains, his face devoid of any joy of victory.

He frowned, glanced at the bloodstains on the ground, and solemnly reached out, decisively tearing open the monster's abdomen.

Gululu.

A series of round, wet, sticky, blood-stained objects rolled out of the ruptured abdominal cavity and scattered in the filthy pool of water.

There were seven or eight human heads with indistinct, blurry features.

Oshima clenched his fists, silently looked up, and let the black rain fall on him, then be purified by the golden light, emitting hissing white steam.

"These monsters are deliberately creating fear."

"Killing is not the goal, but merely a means."

"One means of spreading terror."

"They treat humans like poultry."

"Fear is their reaping food."

After leaving Tokyo with her family, Oshima has been living in Nagoya ever since.

But unexpectedly, the disaster spread to this area, and Tokyo has become the safest city in Japan today.

Fortunately, his current residence is quite safe, as the surrounding area has been taken over by the military.

That's why he felt comfortable using his abilities to rescue the others in the city, even though it seemed like a drop in the ocean.

After a few brief encounters with these monsters, he quickly realized that they were not simply after blood.

Often, they have the opportunity to kill directly, but they don't act immediately. Instead, they go through a series of escalations and imitations to break the human's mind before taking action.

Big Island knew perfectly well that these monsters were treating them as a sustainable breeding farm.

Oshima had already depleted all his gratitude energy a few days ago when he dealt with the Ripper.

Fortunately, the reward from the previous game was an ability that could replenish gratitude points by sharing pain.

After a painful recovery, he was able to extend his playing time a little. However, he had already been fighting for over ten minutes and was nearing his limit.

Just as he was about to fly into the sky again and deal with one more monster before deactivating his ability, the thick clouds seemed to crack open.

The black rain stopped?

　Thank you to "pi=3.14" for the 200-coin donation.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)