Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1498 The Bizarre Adventure of Deliveryman Hachiman Hikigaya

Police stations, once the cornerstone of maintaining social stability, have become synonymous with high-risk professions in the "era of omniscience".

A wave of resignations swept through the police force outside of Tokyo like an avalanche.

Imagine the helplessness and despair a patrol officer wielding an ordinary baton or pistol would feel when faced with a monster that can walk through walls, breathe fire, control minds, and even be physically immune.

The death rate was terrifying, and most of the survivors suffered mental breakdowns.

Police chiefs' offices across the country were flooded with resignations.

This is not cowardice, but a clear understanding—without professional psionic support, ordinary police officers fighting against anomalies is no different from charging at a tank with their bare hands; it is a purely meaningless sacrifice.

Maintaining basic public order has become a luxury, let alone investigating those bizarre disappearances.

Tokyo was transformed into a massive, high-pressure furnace.

People are like spinning tops whipped by an invisible whip, frantically spinning with only four or five hours, or even less, of fragmented sleep each day.

The office buildings are brightly lit all night, convenience stores always have long lines, and the air is filled with the acrid smell of instant noodles and over-extracted caffeine.

However, Tokyo, a city that possesses the lighthouse of the Far Moon Exorcism Tower, has become the island nation's last and relatively safe "fortress".

There are at least professional "night watchmen" here, a rapid response mechanism for dealing with anomalies, and a relatively complete anomaly early warning system (although it is not omnipotent).

People are like moths drawn to light, even knowing that deadly darkness lies beyond the halo, they would rather huddle together in this seemingly safe little space, enduring extreme confinement and omnipresent fear.

Leaving Tokyo means exposing yourself and your family to the open wilderness, a truly lawless place where the strong prey on the weak. Disappearing? That might even be considered a mild ending.

In contrast, Tokyo's "rolling" and "exploitation" have become a kind of heartbreaking sense of security—at least here, the "probability" of being dragged into the shadows by monsters seems to be a little "lower" than being devoured by a hundred demons at night in the countryside.

Pushing open the door, a stuffy atmosphere mixed with the smells of cheap incense and stale food hit me.

The mother and Komachi Hikigaya were busy in the cramped kitchen, their backs to the door.

Something was cooking on the stove, making a monotonous bubbling sound.

Hearing the door open, Komachi Hikigaya turned around and immediately put on a forced, relaxed smile: "Brother's back? You must be exhausted! Come on, dinner'll be ready soon!"

Hikigaya gave a vague reply, his gaze sweeping over the fine lines at the corners of his mother's eyes and her forced smile, before heading straight for his own tiny room, barely big enough to fit him.

Exhaustion felt like a heavy lead weight, filling my limbs and bones.

He just wanted to collapse onto the bed immediately and numb all his senses with a brief nap, even if it was only for two or three hours.

……

The investigation into Totsuki Exorcism High School has begun.

The task was not handled by experienced teacher exorcists, but by selected elite senior students.

This is both a practical test and a training exercise for the new generation.

The students split into groups, armed with maps of missing persons hotspots initially analyzed by the school's intelligence department and limited case data (blurry surveillance screenshots, reports of faint residual spiritual/demon energy fluctuations, and vague, terrified descriptions from witnesses), and ventured into the Tokyo night.

Hachiman Hikigaya rode his bicycle through the increasingly deserted streets.

The glow of the streetlights appeared hazy and weak in the thin mist. He had just delivered a takeout order to the top floor of an old apartment building.

The person who opened the door was an old woman with a haggard face, her eyes filled with fear of the darkness outside.

As he handed her the lunchbox, Hachiman seemed to catch a glimpse of a family photo hanging on the dimly lit living room wall behind her. The space for a young man had been carefully cut out, leaving a glaring blank.

"Thank you... Please, please be careful on your way."

The old woman's voice was like a taut string, carrying a barely perceptible tremor.

Before she could finish speaking, the door was quickly pulled back shut, "click, click, click—"

The sound of the three locks falling was as heavy as three dull hammer blows, slamming into the empty hallway and striking Hachiman's heart.

He turned and went downstairs.

The motion-activated lights in the stairwell, like the dulled nerves of an old man, flickered on and off. Upon reaching a certain floor, the lights completely stopped working, and utter darkness instantly engulfed him.

He instinctively stopped in his tracks. In that instant, an unnatural chill, like a cold, venomous snake, suddenly shot up from his tailbone to the back of his neck, freezing his breath. Compared to it, the late autumn night wind seemed mild.

He stood frozen in place, every pore screaming. In the darkness, countless invisible gazes pierced through his thin uniform jacket, cold and sticky, like slippery tentacles wrapping around his entire body.

The air suddenly became heavy and viscous, and a strong, nauseating smell of rust filled the nostrils, so strong that one could almost taste the metal on the tip of their tongue.

He gripped the cold iron stair railing tightly, his knuckles cracking from the excessive force, and instantly lost all color in his face.

Cold sweat poured from every pore, instantly soaking through the fabric of my back and clinging coldly to my skin. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, each beat accompanied by a tearing pain, threatening to shatter my fragile ribs.

He dared not blink, his signature dead fish eyes fixed on the thick, inky abyss ahead, as if it might crack open at any moment and crawl out something indescribable.

Time lost its measure in the face of extreme fear.

A few seconds? Or a few minutes? That suffocating, almost tangible, invisible pressure vanished as suddenly as the tide receded.

Almost simultaneously, with a crisp "snap," the voice-activated light above his head suddenly turned on, and the blinding white light made him instinctively squint.

Under the light, the corner of the staircase was empty, with only his own elongated and distorted shadow cast grotesquely on the mottled wall covered with stains and mold.

"Ho...ho..."

Hachiman, like a fish out of water, suddenly arched his back and gasped for breath.

The icy air rushed into my burning lungs, causing a violent cough.

Cold sweat rolled down his forehead and temples.

The brief but terrifying experience had exhausted all my strength; my legs were as weak as overcooked noodles, trembling slightly.

He dared not turn back, dared not look at that corner even once more. The instinct for survival overwhelmed all thought.

He used all his strength to steady himself and practically crawled down the remaining stairs, each step hitting the beat of his rapidly pounding heart.

He rushed downstairs, got on his motorcycle, and his hand trembled violently as he twisted the throttle.

(End of this chapter)