Lost and found, long-lost reunion, a false alarm—these are the three happiest things in life.
Whether they’re truly the happiest is debatable, since I found it on Baidu.
But at this moment, Yuki Asahi was indeed happy.
He didn’t impulsively pull her into his arms—their relationship hadn’t reached that point yet.
What existed between them was merely a pure, untainted gaze.
Even so, the sense of happiness felt like warmth flooding in from all directions, wrapping around him.
He didn’t even want to blink, unwilling for the girl’s figure to disappear from his sight for even a second.
Hmm?
Competing to see who can go longer without blinking?
Interesting, I accept the challenge.
So Jiang Jian Yue also stared hard at Yuki Asahi’s Golden Eyes.
She held her gaze until her eyes dried out and she couldn’t take it anymore, finally shutting them tight, tears squeezing from the corners.
Fine, you win.
In Yuki Asahi’s eyes, however, the girl was tearful, beautiful in her sorrow.
His heartbeat sped up slightly, but he quickly forced himself to suppress any stirring feelings.
“Rest well. You don’t need to worry about the school.”
Jiang Jian Yue picked up the cracked-screen phone from the bedside table and placed it on the blanket.
“Call your family.”
“Okay.”
Yuki Asahi nodded, then watched her departing back.
***
Jiang Jian Yue returned to her own bedroom on the fifth floor from the third.
Yes, the room Yuki Asahi was staying in was actually a ward on the third floor of the apartment, not a hospital.
She actually felt a bit relieved inside that Yuki Asahi hadn’t asked about what happened that day after waking up.
When Jiang Jian Yue discovered that the Devourer G had survived a 30mm autocannon barrage, she immediately pressed the Invisibility Wristwatch to escape.
This was also Jiang Jian Yue’s trump card, though she’d only just gotten her hands on it.
Are you kidding me? Can something like that really be called a carbon-based lifeform?
I’m supposed to fight Devourer G? Is that for real?
You’d definitely die!
As for Yuki Asahi, he’s the protagonist, so of course nothing would happen to him.
Even thinking so, every step down the stairs made Jiang Jian Yue feel her conscience burning.
She was no longer a hot-blooded child—this is what selfish and cowardly adults do; anyone in such a situation would do the same!
Such reasoning was hard to convince herself with.
In the end, she still stopped running and turned back.
She saw Yuki Asahi being gripped and lifted high, and at that moment, she threw aside all fear, drew the Insect Blade, and lunged at Devourer G’s back.
Then, she was struck by an overwhelming wave of emotion.
She was the closest person to Devourer G.
The sensation, even in retrospect, remained terrifying.
Fortunately, it didn’t last long.
After Devourer G self-destructed, she had the bad luck to be crushed beneath it, struggling mightily to crawl out.
Her first battle ended in such a ridiculous fashion.
The only effective damage Jiang Jian Yue dealt was a single Western Sword Thrust, which also indirectly caused severe injury to an ally.
What a disgraceful fellow!
In the bathroom, Jiang Jian Yue removed the bandage from her neck.
The blood-red web had expanded to twice its original size—a change that occurred when she came into contact with Devourer G’s corpse.
After that, Jiang Jian Yue’s understanding of her own ability suddenly became clear.
The Insect Blade sprang from the back of her wrist, then pressed against her delicate cheek, carving a wound from which blood oozed.
But soon, the wound fully healed.
This tingling sensation of Healing—Jiang Jian Yue hadn’t grown tired of it yet.
She was now certain of her ability: to plunder, or rather, copy the abilities of corpses through contact.
For some reason, Devourer G’s Acid Spray didn’t transfer.
However, Jiang Jian Yue wasn’t too keen on that ability anyway.
A beautiful girl spraying acid…that kind of scene would destroy her sense of style.
If she were a brawny man with two hearts and three lungs, then maybe such a power would suit her.
Jiang Jian Yue wiped the blood from her face with a towel. Her pants pocket vibrated—a message from Morita Aoya.
“The negotiation is complete. Tokushu Jishou Taiou Honbu promises not to restrict Yuki-kun’s personal freedom, but hopes he’ll prioritize cooperating with them.”
Back on the sofa, Jiang Jian Yue turned on the TV. Nearly every channel was reporting on one thing.
The Ikebukuro Monster Incident.
IkebukuroMonster#SightedAbnormalCreature#IkebukuroOpenFire…
Topics like these had topped Blue Bird’s trending searches three days ago and still hadn’t fallen.
This incident nearly broke global news.
Wars, celebrity scandals—all were pushed aside.
This was humanity’s first time witnessing an abnormal creature in a major urban hub like Ikebukuro, with ample footage to prove it.
Even an Apache firing at a hotel rooftop in such a populated district of a developed nation was unheard of.
Online, netizens across countries reveled in a strange excitement.
Conspiracy theorists believing the world was ruled by lizardmen were probably already popping champagne halfway through.
On YouTube and Ruizhan, countless video clips were released at once; news channel uploaders posted emergency updates, and comment sections and bullet screens were in utter chaos.
Some felt the world was doomed.
Others were fired up: If there are Monsters, why can’t there be Heroes?
Didoo-man, activate!
People were already starting a thousand-day bald head training to prepare for the Hero Association.
Some believed it was a sign of Aura Awakening and began collecting ancient texts to practice.
Naturally, there were also theories about nuclear wastewater causing human mutation or American experiments leaking—oh, West Big, why are you so wicked!
How could this happen?
The answer was simple: with GPRI destroyed, no one was left to control the flow of information.
Most countries had been kept in the dark by GPRI and had no idea about the existence of supernatural powers.
With GPRI gone, chaos erupted.
As for governments trying to control the news, it was unrealistic.
There were simply too many people near Ikebukuro Station.
It was impossible to control all the footage, unless the government immediately cut off power and internet to the Fengdao District and deployed the Self-Defense Force to confiscate recording devices.
But if they had that level of efficiency, disaster relief on the peninsula wouldn’t be such a mess.
Once the videos spread across platforms, it was beyond Japan’s ability to control alone.
Even if they joined forces with other nations to enforce bans, it was already too late.
Thus, the fall of a single organization triggered a worldwide “Pseudo Aura Awakening”.
Local citizens were left anxious over the Ikebukuro Monster Incident.
On social platforms, online opinion leaders launched petitions to strengthen the Self-Defense Force.
Some revived discussions of militarization—perfect timing, given the fear sweeping the populace, and gained considerable support.
The event shifted from a supernatural sighting to a political issue so quickly that Jiang Jian Yue struggled to keep up.
On the second day after the Ikebukuro Monster sighting, the Prime Minister announced at a National Security Council press conference the official establishment of the Tokushu Jishou Taiou Honbu.
Also known as “Tokushu Honbu”.
At the same time, the entire SAT unit of the Metropolitan Police was transferred to the Ministry of Defense.
SAT-EX was formally established, and SAT members became SAT Officers.
At critical moments, they were to coordinate with Tokushu Honbu operations.
Honestly, the name SAT-EX sounded like something out of a tokusatsu show.
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