I impersonated God in America

The subsequent Maine Indian Land Claims Settlement Act did more harm than good.

Simply put, the government provides certain compensation for the land it has seized, but there is a clause that the native Native Americans are subject to state law.

This bill makes Maine's tribes the only tribes in the United States fully governed by state law, meaning that all treatment of Indigenous peoples will be subject to the decision of the state government.

This is tantamount to the indigenous people putting a noose around their own necks and then handing themselves over to the local state government.

Under such oppressive power, the government's exploitation and discrimination against indigenous people became even more severe.

The bias in the law led to continuous litigation between the two parties, and the conflict between them intensified.

This is precisely why Noka wants to climb up and change everything.

At this moment, he glanced around and noticed that everyone except the receptionist was surrounded by a faint black mist.

He had already confirmed on the way that this ability was the ability to recognize the sins of the soul.

[Are almost all of them unclean?]

Rather than saying it's too strange.

Even though he was ostracized, he still heard a lot of news.

Noka paid no attention to the other person and started walking towards the director's office.

Henderson, standing nearby, frowned slightly, wanting to step forward and stop him.

Hey buddy, are you listening to me?

Noka didn't turn around, but instead pushed the office door open.

The room was warmer than the outside.

The bureau chief looked up, paused for a moment when he saw the newcomer, then put on a gentle expression and said, "Hey, Noca, where's Castro? Didn't he come back with you?"

"Why doesn't he come back? Shouldn't you know better than I do why?"

The director's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly, but his facial expression remained perfectly composed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Noka took a step forward.

"Castro will not be coming back."

The bureau chief was silent for a few seconds, then smiled with relief.

He slowly slid his right hand down.

"And I know about your relationship with that skinny guy. He said a lot before he died."

“You’re lying.” The bureau chief’s right hand continued to silently reach downwards. “You have no evidence; you can’t even prove our deal…”

His fingertips touched the cold, metallic outline beneath the drawer handle.

This tactile sensation restored his confidence.

A smile curved upwards at the corners of his mouth.

Then he suddenly felt a blur before his eyes.

Feeling the coolness coming from his right arm, he subconsciously looked over.

puff.

His right arm simply vanished into thin air.

"I never said you had a deal."

Blood gushed violently from the bureau chief's right arm.

"Ahhh,"

However, when his gaze fell forward, the figure of the monster appeared, and fear engulfed him.

The sounds of pain abruptly ceased.

On the opposite side of the desk, Noka had disappeared at some point, and in his place reappeared a deer-headed man with huge antlers.

The bureau chief slid off his chair instantly, his obese body crashing to the floor with a dull thud.

He braced himself against the ground with his only remaining left hand, desperately trying to shrink back, while the deer-headed man in front of him approached step by step.

boom,

He found himself with nowhere to retreat; there was only a wall behind him.

His lips trembled slightly as he said, "Noka, we can talk. Don't you want peace between the government and the tribes?"

“I can help you. You know, I have a lot of acquaintances in the state government.”

As he spoke, he carefully observed the deer-headed man's expression, trying to adjust his tone and attitude accordingly.

"The affairs of the tribe and the cave are no longer important."

"Then what's important?"

"You are not important to me."

Then the director saw Noka pull a ball of light from his pocket, a sinister smile spreading across his face.

--------------

FBI office in Augusta, Maine.

The FBI is not stationed in every city. In Maine, for example, it is under the unified jurisdiction of the FBI in Boston, along with three other areas.

The local official looked at the snowy weather outside and sighed.

To be honest, he doesn't like this kind of weather; it makes him feel lonely and isolated. But the comfort he's been finding at work lately has lifted his spirits considerably.

At first, he didn't think this was a good place, even though there weren't many native myths in the Maine region.

But in a sense, this place is a melting pot of folk legends.

According to records prior to the full-blown outbreak of paranormal events, the state had over 7000 cemeteries, 200 haunted locations, and nearly 800 ghost sightings, earning it the reputation as the most creepy state.

But when he arrived, he found that things weren't so bad after all. After investigation, many of the cases turned out to be fabricated.

The frustrating thing is that since the emergence of the supernatural, there have been far fewer ghost stories.

[Hopefully, those who like to court disaster will behave themselves.]

"It seems today will be another peaceful day."

Ring ring.

"It's terrible, sir! The legendary monster Wendigo has appeared in my jurisdiction! According to the on-site report, it's not a prank!"

"Don't panic, sir. I remember these monsters aren't too troublesome. How many have appeared?"

He raised his coffee cup as he spoke.

Slurp.

"Almost half a town."

puff!

Chapter 129 Wendigo is also worth killing!

Extraordinary Countermeasures Department.

It was nearly dusk by then.

James entered the conference room with a grim expression. After all, it was Christmas Eve, and he hadn't expected an accident to happen at this time.

I had just gotten home and was getting ready for Christmas Eve when I was called over.

Even he was a little angry.

Is it really open all year round?

How strong is the Wendigo team at the front?

James turned to the analyst behind him, who was typing on a keyboard and, in the next instant, sent intelligence from the front lines to the screen.

In the small town of Maine, the once bustling streets were now devoid of life, with only one antler-like monster after another patrolling the streets.

One scene shows a gang member wearing a turban leaning against a wall, looking terrified, as a stag-horned monster slowly approaches him and then pierces his chest with its hand.

Just seconds later, everyone in the conference room saw the gang member being held by the antler monster's arm begin to move from stiffness, and then become more and more agile with a "crackling" sound.

Before long, its muscles began to swell and its head began to twist, gradually growing into a deer's head.

Then the antler-like monster withdrew its hand, ignoring its newly transformed companion, and continued to scan its surroundings, searching for its next target. The companion's steps were still somewhat unaccustomed, showing obvious weakness.

Looking at the scene before them, everyone felt a sense of suffocation. After all, such a situation inevitably reminded them of some well-known horror movies, such as Resident Evil.

For them, this plague-like disaster was more terrifying than a simple monster.

"But it seems there are fewer of these antlered monsters than I expected."

It's important to understand that through this transformation, the population density of a town can be much higher than this.

"That's right, sir. We've discovered that these monsters don't seem to have a strong desire to attack some of the survivors."

Hearing this, James became interested, and the analyst next to him skillfully relayed the information he had gathered.

"Our investigation revealed that these survivors had almost no criminal record except for children, and had no conflicts with the police."

Upon hearing this, James seemed to realize something. After all, in the United States, almost any conflict with the police would be recorded and followed by a fine.

Based on his understanding of police forces in those remote areas, entrapment cases were not uncommon.

There have been almost no conflicts with the police, which speaks volumes about their character, and moreover, the children are generally safe...

[Is this specifically targeting sinners? This style feels a bit like something out of hell.]

Why do Wendigos in North American folklore collect these things?

[This time it can't be related to demons again, can it?]

After cramming on folk mythology during this period, he naturally understood that the Wendigo was a native folk monster and had nothing to do with demons, but its behavior at this moment made him think more.

James kept the thought to himself and put it aside for the time being, then went to check on the situation at the front.

The location of the antler monster can be clearly seen through aerial photography.

Although the virus is scattered around the towns, the spread of the disease is not as severe as expected due to the vastness and sparse population of the United States.

The only problem is that these antler monsters are too scattered, and if a tactical squad goes to deal with them, there is a high chance of them getting killed.

With that in mind, James and his assistant exchanged a glance, clearly having the same idea.

"This intensity seems like a good opportunity to notify the special operations team to prepare for action."

Ring ring.

Suddenly, the liaison officer next to him received a phone call, his brows furrowed, and he just kept answering.

After the meeting, the liaison officer approached James and said, "Minister, it's said that the Iroquois Alliance has re-established contact with Lord Thunderer and learned how to get him to leave New York."

James' eyes lit up upon hearing this, and under his expectant gaze, the liaison officer nervously uttered the answer.

"That is to officially designate a certain land as the divine kingdom of the Iroquois."

"So all you need is... wait! Are you kidding me?"

----------------

In a dimly lit warehouse.

A man with painted faces and wearing a yellow robe ran frantically through the warehouse, his panting heavy with fear.

crunch

Suddenly a beverage can was stepped on, and he fell forward with a thud.

whoosh whoosh,

The sound of the wind carried through the warehouse, making the man's face grow even more fearful.

Behind him, a thick white fog was spreading through the warehouse, trapping him inside like a cat chasing a mouse.

As the man continued to move backward, he eventually encountered a corner where he had nowhere to go.