Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes

Everyone fell silent.

"Well, there's no need to be so pessimistic. We're not without outside help! In the event of a disaster, the authorities will be the most anxious. That vine giant last time was very powerful, so they've obviously been hiding a lot of trump cards."

Seeing the atmosphere was a bit hopeless, Uesugi quickly said something positive to boost morale.

“Moreover, we have been overlooking an important variable that could change the situation—the giant hand that appeared in the sky above Kyoto and the one who destroyed the Crimson Skeleton,” Uesugi carefully considered his words, “a cultivator? Perhaps when things really get to the point of no return, they will make their move? Although we cannot place all our hopes on that.”

"I don't think that cultivator is the cave master Zhu Hai mentioned. Otherwise, given the extent of Zhu Hai's fear of him, there would be no need to eliminate him directly; he could have easily subdued him."

Muramasa Taki chimed in, "In short, until the facts are verified, everything is speculation. All we can do is spend more time gathering background information when the new game starts, and find out the source of the disaster as soon as possible."

"Remember to meet the requirements for skill development as much as possible and improve your abilities."

Nobi flipped through the notebook in his hand, which hadn't changed much in the past: "Speaking of improving strength, it would be great if there were a virtual combat training ground, so that we could train our combat skills and teamwork."

"Forget about it now, at least. In the player lobby, our performance isn't much different from Hawking's." This wasn't the first time Renault had tried to stand up from his chair, but his legs seemed to have lost all feeling and were welded to the chair, unable to budge.

Nobi appears to be chatting casually, but he is actually observing Oshima's state of mind without making a sound. Even though Oshima is wearing a mask, he can't hide his unease.

Is it just simple tension, or is there some other hidden reason?

Among the second batch of players, it seems that Muramasa Taki is the most normal, while the other two have some worrying issues.

The island is somewhat withdrawn and taciturn, preferring to remain silent whenever possible. The forest exhibits a performative personality, sometimes displaying exaggerated, theatrical movements.

He also shrugs frequently. If it weren't for the fact that his Japanese is fluent and has a strong Kanto accent, Nobi would have suspected that Mori is actually a foreigner.

The meeting was essentially over at this point. The group chatted casually for a while, and then Oshima took his leave to return to reality.

In reality, he really wanted to stay in the player lobby because he could avoid the excruciating pain caused by the Orochi curse there. Although he could use the accumulated gratitude points to soothe the pain in reality, it was obviously not worthwhile to use those precious gratitude points in this kind of place.

More importantly, his growth requires justice, compassion, and patience.

He receives one or two distress signals every day for the first two, and makes a grand appearance. Even if he can't save the people who need saving every time, he at least maximizes his compassion and sense of justice to the best of his ability.

The most exaggerated thing is the level of patience, which is not just at its maximum, but exceeds the norm in meeting requirements.

While enduring the onslaught of countless snakes devouring his heart, he could even feel the progress bar for his growth requirements rising at a visible speed.

I feel like if I stay up one more night, I'll achieve basic growth and gain the ability to fly.

Unfortunately, his abilities are too restrictive; they can only be used when he appears on stage, and each appearance requires a 12-hour cooldown, with each appearance lasting only 5 minutes.

Even if I use all the gratitude points I've accumulated so far, it will only extend the time by about 15 minutes.

As time goes on, the amount of gratitude points required will increase exponentially.

He closed his eyes, placed his hands on his heart, curled up on the bed, and skillfully bit down on a knotted towel, silently enduring the excruciating pain.

Logically speaking, this was an undeserved disaster for him, yet he found it difficult to hate anyone else.

The Great Serpent of the Other Shore was also a victim, because its ancestors had acted inhumanely and failed to clean up the mess.

As a junior, all I could do was endure it and try to find a way to break the curse.

At least he was chosen as a player, so there's hope.

In a daze, dawn broke.

You have acquired the basic growth ability: Flight.

Shibuya district.

Iwasaki's home.

Tokura Natsu (TNT) got up early, stood on the balcony, and gazed at the morning breeze and the rising sun.

As the lingering mist began to dissipate, the neon lights along the long street gradually went out.

I wonder if Iwasaki Miyabi, when investigating the truth behind her parents' car accident, felt the same confusion and helplessness as her, and could only rely on broadening her horizons to calm her inner anxiety.

"Ugh"

With a soft sigh, the sky brightened completely, announcing that she had once again spent a sleepless night.

As for why she lives here, it's naturally because Iwasaki "asked" her to help find her sister's whereabouts.

Living directly in the former residence of Iwasaki Miyabi would make gathering clues much more convenient.

Driven by Kosuke Iwasaki's earnest invitation and her eagerness to find Miyabi Iwasaki, she accepted almost without hesitation.

Unfortunately, she has been living here for some time now, but clues are still scarce.

And the further they investigated, the stronger the feeling became that Iwasaki Miyabi was the demon mist who slaughtered almost the entire Iwasaki family that day.

But at that time, the way the demon mist tried to harm the surviving guests didn't seem fake, and since she was among them as a waitress, there was no reason why Iwasaki Miyabi wouldn't recognize her.

Or did they recognize him but not have time to stop, and then, with the knight's intervention, they went along with it?

Good morning, Miss Tokura.

The caregiver, Goto, came out of the room and greeted her.

After Iwasaki was discharged from the hospital, she officially resigned from her job at the sanatorium and became Iwasaki's full-time caregiver and assistant.

After exchanging greetings, Shicang helped prepare breakfast.

"Only enough for two people?" When the meal was almost finished, Tokura noticed that the portion size was clearly not right.

Goto nodded with a smile: "Mr. Iwasaki had insomnia again last night and didn't fall asleep until almost dawn. He should wake up around lunchtime."

"Oh," Tokura nodded slightly, unsurprised.

Since moving back home, she learned from Goto that Iwasaki often suffers from insomnia.

This is not surprising; she could completely empathize, after all, she also often suffers from insomnia.

"It's 7 a.m. now. In front of the Tokyo Shokonsha (a memorial society) behind me, about 200 members of the 'Jinglinghui' (a religious organization) dressed in black formal attire are holding a flower-laying ceremony. The organization's representative, Professor Emeritus Kosuke Morioka of the University of Tokyo, said in his address: 'Today, we solemnly remember our ancestors who dedicated themselves to the nation.'"

The official statement noted the memorial activities spontaneously organized by civic groups. According to Articles 20 and 21 of the Constitution, freedom of religious belief and expression should be respected. Regarding historical issues, Japan has consistently adhered to its position as a peaceful nation 'looking to the future.'

The television news broadcast, which served as background noise, went unnoticed by the two, each lost in their own thoughts.

And at the scene of the news broadcast.

The sky turned from bright to dark, with low-hanging clouds and fine raindrops beginning to fall, quickly weaving a hazy curtain of water.

Hidden in the dark clouds, Kosuke Iwasaki coldly surveyed the black cluster below.

Jinglinghui, an extreme right-wing organization.

Many of its members are descendants of former war criminals.

He knew all too well that the children of murderers were not necessarily murderers themselves. However, if these descendants worshipped their fathers' crimes, formed cliques and colluded with them, becoming corrupted by their surroundings, then it was only a matter of time before they degenerated into new sources of evil.

At least in Iwasaki's view, that area where souls gathered was almost as filthy as their black clothes.

Besides the core group of two hundred people, there were several hundred more supporting them on the periphery, making it seem quite impressive.

Logically speaking, June is not the season for worshipping at shrines. Large shrines have special spring and autumn festivals, so these people must have some purpose in doing so.

For Iwasaki, their purpose was irrelevant; all he needed to know was that this was an excellent opportunity for sacrifice.

It was as if the offerings themselves had cooked themselves up as dishes, arranged them neatly, and placed them in their proper positions, just waiting for him, the diner, to sit down. He couldn't refuse their hospitality.

Sacrificing these people will definitely allow him to acquire new knowledge and significantly enhance his strength.

As for how they died, Iwasaki, as the director, had already arranged it. The "essence" part naturally couldn't die too easily, otherwise the soul power they obtained wouldn't be perfect.

He deliberately made a deal with Muramasa Takii, of course, to squeeze every last bit of evil from these people's souls.

The sky grew increasingly gloomy, as if offering him encouragement and support.

"Heaven helps me, Heaven punishes you." Iwasaki murmured, took out a small longevity pill, and put it in his mouth.

He is the true "pay-to-win" player among all gamers.

The rain intensified, splashing water onto the ground. Some members looked hesitant as they gazed at the dark clouds overhead.

"President, judging from the rain, the flower-offering ceremony is only halfway through. Should we postpone it?"

The assistant walked to the president's side and asked in a low voice.

"Foolish! Is this something that can be postponed?! Young people these days are getting more and more outrageous. Such an important event as worship should be completed even if it's raining knives!"

The president shouted sternly, his face darker than the sky.

“But many of those people outside are just here to collect money,” the assistant said, looking troubled.

"In short, Commissioner Sato, you're in charge of appeasing them. We absolutely cannot let others laugh at us." The chairman understood his assistant's meaning; it was simply a matter of asking for more money.

Given enough money, those people can be fanatical right-wingers today and radical left-wingers tomorrow.

Although the left wing generally doesn't have the money to hire these professionals.

The assistant smiled with relief upon hearing this.

Commissioner Sato also wanted to advance his career, and with this round of profiteering, he easily pocketed hundreds of thousands of yen.

Soon, thanks to the efforts of Commissioner Sato to calm them down, the members on the periphery once again displayed a strong momentum. Dressed in old military uniforms, they sang loudly and waved military flags.

The presence of the peripheral members indirectly reassured the core members, allowing them to continue the flower-presenting ceremony with pride and confidence.

On the outermost edge, the reporters listened to the frenzied slogans, their expressions varying.

"Let's cut to the commercials."

"Quickly, get back to the studio!"

"Listen! What magnificent music this is!"

The raindrops grew denser, weaving a white mist.

Just as the flower-laying ceremony was about to conclude and the chairman was preparing to give a speech, an unexpected disturbance occurred. A group of people outside, waving military flags, marched in and barged into the flower-laying area.

"Damn it! What are they doing? Who's in charge?!" The guild leader was furious, feeling like everything was going wrong today.

Commissioner Sato wiped the sweat from his brow and rushed over to question the team leader.

"What?! Didn't you tell us to line up and come in? You even said the more imposing the better, and you'd give each person an extra 20,000 yen!" The team leader retorted, wondering if Sato had lost his mind.

"I said it?!" Sato's eyes widened, pointing to his own nose, his face full of disbelief.

In all honesty, he only gave them a little extra money to do some work! He didn't let them in again at all!

He couldn't have done that without the chairman's permission!

If it wasn't him, then who was it?

Sato stood frozen in place, his forehead wet with a mixture of sweat and rain, a chill rising from the soles of his feet. He dared not go back to face the chairman's wrath.

That's where the professionalism of these "experts" ends.

In less than a minute, the hundreds of people who had barged in dispersed, their slogans fading and chatter rising, as if they were on a picnic rather than a memorial service. They inevitably mingled with the two hundred core members, and the scene instantly descended into chaos and noise.

"Get out of the way!" The president's pent-up anger finally exploded. Seeing a soaking wet "mud-legged" guy daring to squeeze into his spot, he didn't think twice and slapped him hard across the face!

Snapped--!

The crisp sound was unusually clear amidst the rain and noise.

Even more horrifyingly, the person who was hit was as if struck by a giant hammer, spinning three and a half times in mid-air before his head slammed hard into the torii gate pillar in front of the main hall!

puff!

Red and white splashed and spread instantly under the rain.

The noise abruptly ceased, leaving only the monotonous sound of raindrops pounding the ground. Everyone, whether core members or peripheral thugs, stared in disbelief at the chairman, then at the corpse not far from him, its skull shattered.

The president himself was stunned, staring incredulously at his right hand, then at the corpse.

When did he... when did he acquire the strength to slap someone to death? Could it be... could it be that I have awakened extraordinary power?

"Yuta——!"

A piercing scream shattered the silence, and a figure lunged at the mutilated corpse, wailing loudly.

"No, it has nothing to do with me! How could I possibly have that much strength! I didn't do it!"

"No! It wasn't me! I don't have that much strength! I didn't do it!"

Murder may not seem like much, but killing someone in public is a completely different matter, and that's irrefutable evidence! The chairman staggered back, hiding behind his own people, making futile attempts to defend himself.

No one noticed, or rather, in the chaos and terror, no one had time to look up.

The dark cloud that shrouded the Summoning Society was pressing down heavily on their heads at an extremely unnatural and suffocating low angle! The dark cloud churned like a boiling sea of ​​ink, exuding a despairing pressure.

Unbeknownst to anyone, at several entrances to the Tokyo Shokonsha inner garden, cars were piled up as if by invisible giant hands, completely blocking the gates.