“Officer, look over there.”
In a corner of the main hall, a pile of miscellaneous items was stacked like trash.
Zobayan walked over and kicked the pile with the tip of his boot.
A thick cloud of dust rose.
There were several fake ledgers from six months ago, some low-quality plastic crystal balls, a few certificates printed with “Consecrated by a Master,” and several boxes of ordinary scented candles with production dates from six months prior.
These items had been swept carelessly into the corner, now covered in spiderwebs.
I see… Although Zobayan was a former mercenary, he possessed basic reasoning skills.
This so-called “Light of Truth” really had been just an ordinary cult scamming people for money six months ago.
Those plastic crystals and fake ledgers were proof; that group of charlatans only wanted money.
But after that, the Saints arrived.
They might have killed the original Sect Leader, or perhaps they simply took direct control of the upper management.
They had played the cuckoo in the nest, transforming this place into a hidden ritual field and a distribution center for scented candles.
The prominent figures who took bribes thought they were merely protecting a ring of fraudsters out to make a quick buck.
They had no idea they were raising a nest of actual man-eating demons in their own backyard.
“Officer! The brothers upstairs can’t hold them back anymore!”
Just then, the voice of the Captain responsible for the perimeter security came through the communicator.
The background was a cacophony of camera shutters and arguing voices.
“What’s happening?”
“The media! Those reporters are like mad dogs. Someone must have leaked word that there’s an ‘underground black dungeon’ here, and they’re insisting on forcing their way in to see. There are also several representatives with legal teams saying they want to supervise law enforcement to prevent us from planting evidence!”
“Stop them!”
Zobayan roared instinctively.
“The things down here aren’t meant for public eyes! It will cause a mass panic!”
If a scene this anti-human were broadcast live, it would cause massive social upheaval.
“But…”
Zobayan cut off the communication and looked at the hellish sight before him, his mind racing.
Planting evidence?
Those politicians and lawyers were currently rushing to whitewash this place, claiming that the DRG was using GSAC security as an excuse for violent law enforcement and that this was just an ordinary religious group.
If they cordoned off the area now and eventually hauled away these dozens of corpses, those people would surely claim the DRG had faked the scene or fabricated a lie to cover up a massacre.
Only the truth—the red, bloody truth—could shut everyone’s mouth.
Only by letting the public see this cruelty that transcended all boundaries could they thoroughly ignite fear toward the Saints and rage toward those who protected them.
Zobayan took a deep breath, pressed his communicator, and switched to the internal encrypted channel.
“Commander-in-Chief, it’s me, Zobayan.”
“What is the situation?”
Morita Aoya’s calm voice came through the earpiece.
“I have discovered a site in the basement suspected of being used by the Saints for rituals.”
Zobayan described the tragedy before him in as calm a tone as possible.
“It is extremely… gruesome. It perfectly aligns with their doctrinal worship of the Insects.”
“The media is outside; they want to come in. I originally wanted to stop them, but…”
“You want to let them in?”
Morita Aoya’s voice did not waver.
“Yes.”
Zobayan looked at the crucifix.
“We have to let them see it with their own eyes.”
The other end of the communication was silent for a few seconds.
“Permitted.”
“Understood.”
Zobayan cut the communication and waved to the soldiers behind him.
“Everyone, move to the sides and turn on all the tactical spotlights. Make this place… as bright as possible.”
“But Officer, this is a bit too much…”
The adjutant was somewhat hesitant.
“Execute the order!”
Zobayan said coldly.
“Since they want to see the truth, we’ll give them an eyeful.”
***
A few minutes later.
The sound of chaotic footsteps echoed from the stairs.
“Quick, quick, quick! Get the exclusive!”
“Don’t push! I’m from Asahi!”
“Screw you, I’m from NHK!”
A group of reporters carrying cameras and equipment, led by several righteous-looking lawyers and parliamentary representatives in suits, jostled and crowded their way inside.
One of the lawyers shouted toward the live camera as he walked.
“We are currently at the scene of the illegal raid by the DRG! We are here to witness firsthand whether this is truly a place of evil or something fabricated by certain foreign interests to strike at dissent—”
His voice was loud and filled with a sense of justice.
Until he stepped through the blasted-open blast door.
Until all the tactical spotlights simultaneously focused on the crucifix in the center.
“—fabricated…”
The final syllable caught in his throat, turning into a strange, strangled sound.
The air seemed to freeze in that instant.
There were no screams, no sounds of shutters clicking.
There was only a deathly silence.
The lawyer who had just been shouting rolled his eyes back, clutched his throat with both hands, and knelt on the ground, letting out heart-wrenching sounds of vomiting until he was dry-heaving bile.
A young female reporter took one look at that “butterfly” of flesh and blood about to take flight, screamed, and fainted on the spot.
Even more people stood there in a daze, their minds blank.
Human rationality was completely shattered in this instant by the exquisite and cruel atrocity before them.
Only a few veteran cameramen and reporters who had experience with battlefield reporting maintained their basic professional duty.
The lenses trembled as they zoomed in.
The high-definition images traveled through the signal, instantly spreading throughout Japan and the entire world.
“Do you see it clearly now?”
Zobayan whispered to himself.
‘This is what you’ve been protecting.’
‘This is what you call a legal spiritual practice center.’
“Withdraw.”
Zobayan took one last look at the hellish altar and turned toward the exit.
He needed a cigarette and a bottle of strong liquor to wash away the lingering sweet, metallic scent in his nostrils.
***
The impact of that live broadcast was nuclear—though saying such a thing in Japan was a bit of dark humor.
Without the need for any written commentary, that human totem arranged in the shape of a Dormant Shell was enough to trigger the rage deep within the masses.
Tomorrow, a motion of no confidence from the Center-Left Alliance would be handed over to the House of Representatives.
If the chaos continued like this, could the GSAC still be held as scheduled?
This concern came from the various national expedition parties, but they did not withdraw from the event.
Compared to ordinary athletes who might cancel competition schedules for a country in turmoil, these Superpower Users were not afraid of danger.
Documentation left behind by the GPRI, which had been first organized and publicized by the European Graz Research Institute, stated that combat activity could intensify the Chantui.
For a Cicada Shell Host, combat activity could also enhance their strength.
As for the Superpower Users, they weren’t afraid of a fight.
They were happy as soon as they heard there would be combat.
What they feared more was the GSAC being postponed or canceled.
***
“Wow, is this really the residential area? Not some five-star hotel?”
The speaker was a young man with a punk hairstyle and several lip piercings.
He was craning his neck like an uncultured hick, looking up at the complex of buildings shrouded in rain that still managed to look magnificent.
This was the GSAC Athletes’ Village located in Minato Ward—or rather, a whole ultra-high-end residential area that the DRG had spent a fortune to secure.
To keep these Superpower Users from all over the world settled, Jiang Jian Yue had spared no expense.
In this district where even the air smelled of money, she had created an absolutely comfortable and absolutely closed cage.
“Shut up, Jack. Don’t howl like a stray dog that hasn’t been weaned yet.”
The woman leading the group stopped her pace and reprimanded him coldly.
She turned around, her dazzling blonde hair tied back into a sharp, high ponytail.
She wore a dark green tactical trench coat, which was left unbuttoned.
Beneath the coat was an extremely form-fitting, high-cut deep green combat suit that outlined her exaggerated curves.
Her long legs, encased in black over-the-knee military boots, were full of explosive power.
Her lean waist and impressive upper body made the passing waiters turn red and lower their heads.
She was the captain of Britain’s so-called “civilian” task force who had appeared in the OP and was jokingly referred to by the comments as “Cammy”—Catherine Windsor.
“But Captain, it’s really hard not to be surprised.”
Another man in the team, built as sturdily as a brown bear, scratched his head.
“These Japanese… or rather, this DRG, is actually this rich.”
“Of course they’re rich, Arthur.”
Catherine took off her sunglasses, her emerald eyes surveying the surroundings.
“It’s money obtained from exploiting Africa.”
“Let’s go. Check in.”
The group of five walked into the main hall.
Inside the hall, the electronic screens were scrolling through promotional videos for the GSAC, interspersed with frequent emergency news bulletins regarding the “crackdown on illegal religions.”
In addition to the hotel staff in uniforms, there were many people in deep black suits with red armbands on their left arms who were screening the participating athletes one by one as they checked in.
They weren’t ordinary security staff.
That look in their eyes belonged to those who had seen blood.
“Are those… DRG people?”
The punk youth known as Jack whistled and lowered his voice.
“Those guys don’t look like pushovers. They can actually carry weapons openly in an international setting like this?”
The refined-looking man in gold-rimmed glasses, who had been silent throughout, suddenly spoke.
“I watched the live broadcast on the plane. The DRG just took down a stronghold and found many… inhumane traces. They are currently conducting a city-wide manhunt for those kooks.”
Catherine looked at the photos in the hands of the men in black, then at the athletes in the lobby who seemed calm but were actually tense.
“This GSAC is destined to be anything but peaceful.”
Just then, a leading DRG security staff member seemed to notice their gaze.
He turned his head, his gloomy eyes sweeping over the group.
When he saw Catherine’s highly recognizable attire, his gaze paused for a moment.
Then he nodded slightly as a greeting and turned back to continue directing his subordinates’ inspections.
“Let’s go.”
Catherine retracted her gaze and led her team members toward the elevators for the VIP passage.
The elevator was slowly opening, and a black-haired boy with golden eyes stepped out, holding fries in one hand and a mobile phone in the other.
At that moment, a clamor suddenly erupted behind Catherine, followed by someone shouting, “Catch him!”
In the moment Catherine was stunned, the boy had already brushed past the group.
‘So fast!’