Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes.

Chapter 361, Section 108: Killing the Sea

October 12, Russia.

The underground research institute on the outskirts of Moscow was brightly lit at night.

The ice floe that arrived a few days ago was placed in the center of the quarantine zone and covered by a huge cylindrical bulletproof glass dome.

Compared to the beginning, most of the ice floes have melted away, and the ice has become thin and transparent. With the naked eye, one can barely see through the interwoven white ice crystals to glimpse the outline of the plate armor inside.

It stood silently in the ice, holding a sword, in a very simple posture. From the outside, it was unremarkable and even appeared somewhat rough.

This plate armor has a sense of immaturity in many details. Compared with standard Gothic or Milanese plate armor, it is much simpler. It is more like an exploration of the transition from breastplate and back plate armor to full-body armor, with a clumsy feel.

But no one dares to doubt its value and mystery.

Researchers came and went, and most of them looked at the floating ice with fear in their eyes.

It's not that they don't yearn to come into contact with the extraordinary; it's just that they're more afraid that what will emerge after this iceberg melts is a god of death.

Even after they confirmed it a thousand times, there was absolutely nothing inside the plate armor; it was completely empty.

But extraordinary people wouldn't explain these scientific principles to you.

The Ripper iceberg in London, frozen solid, hasn't melted at all even after more than ten days, almost defying the laws of thermodynamics.

"It's almost certain that this ice formation is different from the snowfall in London."

Inside the safe room, Dr. Ivan presented a stack of documents to Vicki, briefly outlining his research findings. He then took out a small, sealed bag containing London Saint Snow.

A magical "Snow of God's Grace" that cannot melt naturally and can only be absorbed by the flesh and blood.

Through both public and private channels, these preserved snowflakes have been sold for exorbitant prices, far exceeding the value of God's Rain.

Firstly, because it is more effective and relatively scarce. Although it may seem like most of London has snowed, only the first batch of snow is actually effective; most of it is absorbed by London residents without their knowledge.

During that period, people were running naked in London every day. One old man, who was using a cane, rolled around in the snow and then suddenly became incredibly agile.

In addition, the British flocked to London after receiving news of the disaster, and the population doubled compared to before the disaster. People even dug snow out of the ground like gold panning.

Secondly, it's too easy to distinguish between genuine and fake.

Holy snow does not melt when heated, but it dissolves upon contact with flesh and blood.

Unlike the Holy Rain, which practically every household in London could pull out several buckets of water, and upon closer inspection, there was quite a bit of sediment, and in some cases, even garbage. It's unclear whether it was directly pumped from the Thames.

The world's elites coveted Saint Snow, and even the Vatican and Britain couldn't withstand the pressure and were forced to share a significant portion of the prize.

The largest piece, of course, was eaten by Amei.

Russia, on the other hand, also has its own channels for obtaining these resources.

Compared to other countries, it's a bit hard to describe.

Even though Viktor was president, he didn't receive much; most of it was given to the laboratory for research.

After a moment of silence, Vickers suddenly said, "Ivan, I remember your lungs. You suffered permanent damage in the lab accident."

Ivan stiffened slightly, then nodded: "Yes, Mr. President. Rainy days can be a little uncomfortable, but they don't affect my work."

Vickers pointed to the sealed bag: "Take these. I need firsthand reports on the effects on the human body, especially data on its repair effects. You are the scientist I trust most, and your body is a vital national asset."

Ivan was stunned. He looked at the bag of priceless Saint Snow, then at Vivich's calm face, his feelings a little complicated.

He took a deep breath, a familiar, faint tingling sensation rising in his lungs: "Isn't this too precious? It should be used for more critical research or stored for unforeseen circumstances."

“This is the key research,” Vickers interrupted him. “Understanding it will allow us to better prepare for what the future may hold, whether it be a blessing or a calamity. Take it; it is both an order and a request.”

Ivan naturally knew the value of the sacred snow.

The internet is full of exaggerated claims, like bringing the dead back to life and healing bones. The actual effects certainly won't be that outrageous, but there's no doubt that Shengxue can indeed cure some stubborn diseases that are currently difficult for medicine to overcome, as well as delay aging, which countless people dream of.

These have already been compared and tested.

"Thank you."

Since it's part of the research, he plans to find a straw later and suck the snow in, which should maximize the effect of treating lung damage, and can be considered targeted therapy.

It's just that it's easy to misunderstand.

Vicki has been here for the past two days, adopting a defensive stance in response to NATO's activities in the Baltic Sea.

However, after learning about Vickers' Cradle System (the automatic activation of the Dead Hand System when the heart stops beating), the President regarded him as a madman and did not choose to be aggressive. After basically controlling the Baltic Sea, he did not engage in any provocative behavior.

Ivan took out several other reports, preparing to continue his presentation, but was stopped by Viktor raising his hand.

Vicki frowned slightly: "Wait, Ivan, don't you think the ground is a bit..."

Just as Ivan was about to concentrate on sensing the vibrations, he felt a very slight tremor beneath his feet, as if heavy machinery was passing by in the distance, but this was nearly a hundred meters underground.

Almost simultaneously, all the cameras in the quarantine zone that were pointed at the ice floes automatically adjusted their focus and magnified the images to transmit them to the main screen.

Without warning, a hair-thin crack spread across the once smooth ice surface.

click-

A crisp sound came through the microphone.

“It seems we don’t need to wait until it’s completely melted.” Vicki squinted and pressed a button on the device next to him. “Activate Level 1 contingency plan. Non-combat personnel evacuate to the safe house according to the predetermined route. First contact team, take your positions.”

"Data team, keep a close eye on every parameter change and record it carefully."

Inside the quarantine area, the well-trained researchers, though showing surprise, remained calm.

They quickly and systematically packed up the critical data storage equipment and retreated rapidly along the pre-designated safe passage to the nearest heavily protected safe house, where the heavy blast doors closed and locked one by one behind them.

At the same time, two concealed hatches on the side of the isolation zone slid open silently. Two members of the contact team, who were already prepared, stepped out.

This is a couple around thirty years old, with average looks and a calm demeanor.

Instead of wearing any modern protective suits, they changed into simple clothes made of coarse linen and ordinary cotton.

This plan was developed jointly by psychologists and historical consultants to make the first contact as harmless as possible and in line with the other party's historical context, avoiding any triggers.

This historical context originates from Ethan.

The two exchanged a glance and nodded slightly to each other before quickly separating and hiding behind cover to quietly observe the ice.

The ice cracks didn't stop; starting from the initial crack, they gradually spread outwards.

Within a few dozen seconds, the originally intact surface of the ice was covered with dense, spiderweb-like white patterns, like a piece of cracked but not broken glass.

The knight's plate armor gripped the sword hilt with a slight twitch.

Immediately, the ice cracked rapidly along the thickest fissure in the middle, not exploding as many had predicted, but instead falling to both sides like a sliced ​​watermelon. Large chunks of ice slammed onto the cushioned ground with dull thuds.

Dense white vapor surged out from the cracked ice, instantly enveloping the entire glass enclosure and obscuring most of the view.

Everyone held their breath. Amidst the spreading icy vapor, they could vaguely make out that the knight in plate armor seemed to be kneeling on one knee with his head bowed.

It knelt quietly in the center of the broken ice, motionless.

It was as if the warrior had just gone through a fierce battle that exhausted all his strength, and finally collapsed from exhaustion.

The couple playing the roles of man and woman took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing their nervousness.

They slowly rose from behind their cover, bowed slightly in the direction of the knight's plate armor, and performed a simple salute.

Then he slowly stepped out of the cover, approaching the knight in a harmless manner. "Open the glass dome."

"Victoire commanded."

hum.

The massive cylindrical bulletproof glass dome began to descend steadily, disappearing beneath the floor.

With the barrier gone, the icy vapor poured out, making the area around the knight's plate armor much clearer. The low-temperature aura mixed with the faint, salty sea breeze emanating from the ice body spread out.

But the plate armor remained completely still, seemingly just an empty shell.

However, the camera had already calculated that the plate armor made subtle movements when the ice cracked, and the way the ice block landed was not something that a truly empty plate armor could have done.

Therefore, this set of knight's plate armor must have been controlled by some mysterious force, most likely the former owner of the armor.

Right now, it is probably undergoing an adaptation process before officially waking up.

"May the Lord bless you, Your Excellency Knight."

Do you need help?

When the man received no response, he took a step closer with a tragic expression and reached out to try to wipe the ice shards off his plate armor and shoulder armor with a clean linen cloth.

Just as his fingertips were about to touch the metal.

No one saw how the knight raised his hand; it seemed as if in the blink of an eye, his hand had grabbed the man's wrist.

".see"

The knight slowly raised his head, the hole beneath his visor surveying the two men before him, before gently releasing his grip.

The man's heart pounded, his face turned deathly pale, and he instinctively staggered back two steps.

Inside the security room, everyone watched with tense concentration.

It spoke.
But...see? That sounds completely nonsensical.

"It's not about seeing. It should refer to the sea or lake; I'm more inclined to think he meant 'the ocean,'" an Old English expert added.

Everyone understood; although it was still a bit cryptic, it was much easier to comprehend.

The subsequent attempts became even more difficult.

Regardless of the language or method of communication used by the contact team according to instructions, the knight's only response was always the same monotonous repetition of words:

"The sea."

Its voice had no intonation, no anger, no pleading, and not even the slightest emotional fluctuation.

It was as if this was just a pre-programmed instruction that had to be completed.

Even more unsettling was that, after repeated attempts at communication failed, the knight's hand holding the cross sword began to move.

They dared not try again. Everyone understood that this was a signal: the Cavaliers were losing patience with communication and might take action at any moment.

"Stop the contact attempt and the contact group should immediately retreat to a safe distance."

President Vichy issued the order via communicator, his face extremely grave.

He straightened his suit and tie, and said in a deep voice to Dr. Ivan and the head of security beside him, "I will go see him personally."

"Mr. President! This is too dangerous!" Ivan hurriedly tried to dissuade him.

“When faced with an incomprehensible entity, sometimes honesty is more effective than defensiveness.” Vicki shook his head, his eyes resolute. “If he really wanted to attack, the contact group would already be dead. Since he hasn’t attacked, we must show our goodwill.”

After saying that, he opened the door to the security room, told others not to follow him in, and entered the quarantine area alone.

Vicki stopped about five meters away from the Cavaliers.

He made no threatening move, but simply stared calmly at the knight's dark visor holes.

“Your Excellency Knight,” Vicki said slowly in English, “is there anything we can do for you?”

The knight paused for a moment while holding his sword.

Beneath the visor, in the darkness, seemed to be two invisible gazes fixed upon Viktor.

A few seconds later, the hoarse voice rang out again.

"The sea."

"Kill."

"Kill the sea."

This time there's one more word.

Vickers stared at it silently for several seconds. He didn't sense any malice in those invisible eyes, only a bottomless weariness and obsession.

Viktor nodded slowly and solemnly.

“I understand.” He stopped trying to ask questions or explain. “Please come with me.”

He turned and walked toward the private elevator leading to the ground.

The knight said nothing more and slowly followed, the joints of his metal plate armor clanging as he walked.

Amidst the complex expressions on people's faces, they entered the elevator one after another.

The elevator doors closed, and the elevator ascended smoothly.

In the cramped space, one person and one armored soldier remained silent.

The plate armor emitted a chilling aura that could be smelled.

Is Viktor afraid?

I'm terrified.

He still has the Cradle System inside him, and that's no joke.

But his gambling instincts, or rather his personality, led him to do it.

It wasn't entirely for the country; like everyone else, he naturally had his own selfish motives.

"Your Excellency, do you know where the mystery comes from?"

The knight did not respond, but stared blankly at the water that had seeped through the gaps in his plate armor.

Vickery was not discouraged; he hadn't expected to get an answer to such an ultimate question anyway.

"Your Excellency, why were you frozen in ice?"

At this point, the knight trembled slightly, slowly raised his bowed head, and stared at him.

"Golden fish, don't eat it."

Golden fish?
Viktor was unfamiliar with this; Ethan had not mentioned any of it to him.

Based on the name alone, the first thing that comes to his mind is Pushkin's fairy tale "The Fisherman and the Golden Fish," the story of a fisherman releasing a golden fish and the fish repaying his kindness.

While I was thinking, the elevator reached the ground.

(End of this chapter)