Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1532 Unexpected Mission
In this era, "extraordinary existence cognition and basic protection" has long replaced some traditional subjects and become one of the compulsory majors in all schools.

No one dared to let their guard down. The bloody cases in textbooks, the blurry yet terrifying evil forms in video materials, and the disaster drill sirens that occasionally rang throughout the campus all silently proclaimed a cruel fact: the veil of peace had been completely torn apart.

Strong is strong, weak is weak!
Once the balance of power tilts, the morality and rules of the old era appear pale and laughable.

In Hachiman's view, the "ethics of the extraordinary" and "harmonious coexistence with ordinary people" that the teacher talked about in class were nothing more than pretty words to embellish the truth.

A group of ordinary people with no strength to even kill a chicken are pointing their fingers at a superhuman with the ability to move mountains and fill seas and cursing him.

Such "politically correct" plots, which only exist in fantasy works during peacetime, are nothing more than farcical jokes on a real battlefield where life and death are determined by strength. The ending is usually that the enemy will impatiently crush them into dust.

History has proven time and again that when individual power is sufficient to override collective rules, ambition will grow wildly like weeds.

Almost all the students were talking about "Exorcism Colleges"—higher education institutions that are officially or powerful supernatural organizations certified to train professional exorcists.

Among them, the most recognized top-tier institution is the "Tokyo Metropolitan Totsuki Spirit Exorcism Academy".

It was transformed and expanded from the former culinary mecca, Totsuki Academy, after the cataclysm. It not only inherited its rigorous selection and training system, but also became the ultimate dream hall for countless people who crave power due to the complex political forces behind it and its powerful combat resources.

Being admitted to "Totsuki Reigen" means joining the elite class and gaining the power to change one's destiny or even influence the course of history.

Many more ambitious individuals have already set their sights beyond mere academic studies and employment.

They talked about recruiting companions, building their own power, and even emulating the powerful figures in history who expanded their territories, seeking opportunities in the chaotic order, using extraordinary power as a foundation, and plotting to carve out a territory or even establish a country!
Turning the pages of humanity's thick history books, one finds the words steeped in iron and blood.

Whether the founding emperors were benevolent and magnanimous is debatable, but one thing is undeniable: they must have possessed absolute power that was enough to crush the vast majority of their contemporaries and inspire despair.

Strength is the most solid foundation of ambition.

Perhaps only "outliers" like Hachiman Hikigaya have no interest in these grand narratives and fervent ambitions.

He continued to attend school as usual, enduring the tedious lectures on the theory of the extraordinary in class, avoiding overly enthusiastic or calculating social interactions during breaks, and heading to the thorny mission locations guided by the system after school.

The daily wage of 100,000 yen is a realistic anchor, firmly fixing him on the small but stubborn goal of "protecting the existing daily life".

He was like a lonely night watchman, silently fighting against the darkness that was trying to devour his ordinary world.

The clamor of the world was utterly torn apart and annihilated in that instant.

The next second, Hachiman Hikigaya's entire field of vision was suddenly engulfed by a violent crimson!

The intense color, like magma erupting from the core of a furnace, with a suffocating heat, brutally crashed into his retina, violently pushing aside the greenery outside the window, the classroom walls, the backs of the students in front of him... crushing everything in front of him into dust, leaving only this raging inferno.

It was as if there were tangible flames licking and distorting the air at the edges, and a pop-up window with scorching hot edges descended like a tyrant, forcibly and domineeringly occupying every corner of the field of vision.

Cold beads of sweat burst open almost instantly from his forehead and back, stickily soaking into the skin beneath his shirt and bringing a chill to his bones.

My fingertips could clearly "feel" the radiant heat emanating from the other side of the screen, a heat that scorched my skin. At its crimson core, several words were branded:
Brave warrior, uphold justice!

The handwriting was grotesque, like a red-hot iron branding directly onto the optic nerve.

Hachiman Hikigaya's breath hitched, as if an invisible giant hand was gripping his throat.

His heart first felt as if it were being gripped tightly by a cold, rusty giant claw, and then began to pound against his chest at an almost explosive speed, the dull thuds resounding like drums in his ears.

All the surrounding sounds—the excited and noisy discussions of the new students, the sharp bell announcing the end of lunch break, the faint shouts of the sports clubs coming from the distant playground—were instantly shut out by a thick, cold layer of glass, becoming distant and blurry, like noise from another dimension.

The entire world suddenly collapsed and froze.

All that remained was the crimson text that filled the entire field of vision, radiating a deadly threat, and the countdown numbers floating below the text, relentlessly ticking at a cold and constant pace: [00:05:23].

Each flash was like a cold guillotine falling, precisely slicing away a part of his life.

His body instinctively stiffened, retreated, and fled from the inhuman heat and oppression.

However, a deeper, more inertial sense of despair firmly suppressed all panic.

Hachiman Hikigaya forced himself to remain in the same position leaning back in his chair, without changing his posture at all. Even the signature look of exhaustion and numbness on his face, as if he were perpetually sleepy, did not loosen in the slightest.

Only he himself knew what a turbulent struggle and a despair capable of freezing the soul were brewing deep within those eyes, deliberately hidden in the shadow of his bangs and as still as stagnant water.

This damned "system," from the moment it clung to him like a leech, never gave him any chance to bargain.

Its "justice" is always accompanied by extremely high, potentially fatal, coercive risks; it is a naked threat to survival.

Each time the scarlet countdown lights up, it means he must once again step onto that tightrope suspended above the abyss.

"justice……"

The two burning words rolled silently across his tongue, carrying an intense, unyielding bitterness and a profound sense of mockery.

His lips twitched down very slightly, self-deprecatingly, so quickly it was like an illusion, imperceptible to anyone.

But this slight self-mockery was immediately suppressed by something deeper, more stubborn, and more humble—something for the sake of protecting the precarious daily routine that could only be maintained by those 100,000 yen.

It was to prevent Komachi's carefree smile from being overshadowed, and to prevent her parents from being drawn into this incomprehensible abyss filled with the bizarre and the dead.

It was simply to... humbly continue breathing and live on.

(End of this chapter)