Ultraman: It turns out this is the easy mode.

"Hahahaha!!!! This guy! This guy actually turned out like this! Hahahaha!!!!"

In the monitoring corridor of NERV base B-12, a row of monitors is embedded in the metal walls, and cold white LED tubes emit a low-frequency hum overhead. The airflow from the ventilation system carries a mixed smell of machine oil and disinfectant, swirling in the narrow passageway.

Asuka was almost curled up in a ball, her red hair falling in front of her eyes and being haphazardly tucked behind her ears. She gripped Choi Myung's arm tightly with one hand, her nails almost digging into the fabric of his dark green military uniform, while her other hand kept pounding Choi Myung's back. Her fists fell so fast they sounded like drumming, but for Choi Myung's enhanced physique, this force was nothing more than a tickle, more like a feather brushing against his bulletproof vest.

When Asuka saw the current state of Rokubun Gigendo...
The cold light from the monitor screen shone on her face, and the blue fluorescence made her smile appear particularly sinister.

In the scene, Rokufengi Gendo is restrained to a hospital bed with straps, his body folded at an impossible angle, his head positioned at his hips, and dark purple energy ripples flickering at the broken edge. The attending physician's face flickers at the edge of the frame, the recorder in his hand reflecting a blinding light.

She almost laughed herself to death!
Asuka bent over, one hand clutching her stomach, her red combat suit creased at the waist. Her shoulders trembled violently, and laughter burst from her throat, echoing in the metal corridor and startling a passing technician.

The men stopped, standing close to the wall, craning their necks to see what was on the screen, then quickly lowering their heads when Choi Myung's cold gaze swept over them, pretending to check the data tablets in their hands. Asuka's tears welled in her eyes, sliding down her cheeks and dripping onto the floor, forming small puddle marks. She had to lean her entire weight on Choi Myung to maintain her posture, her fingers digging deep wrinkles into his uniform.

He could only support Cui Ming, and then his hands couldn't help but pound on Cui Ming's chest.

Of course, the force required was significant for Cui Ming.
It's the same as not having anything.

Cui Ming stood ramrod straight, his legs shoulder-width apart, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his military boots firmly planted on the metal floor.

His usually taut facial features relaxed, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards in a rare smile, revealing his pearly white teeth. This was a rare sight of him at work.

Even as he smiled, his usually sharp eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at the once arrogant commander on the screen. Asuka's grip on the collar of his uniform had slightly deformed him, but he didn't seem to care. His arms, crossed over his chest, relaxed, and his fingers lightly tapped his upper arm.

"Hahahaha! Choi! This bastard's finally gotten what he deserves! Hahahaha!!! Dark Zagi has actually done some good things. Hahahaha! This guy! He's made a name for himself now! Hahahaha! By the way, Choi, is the sextant going to be dissected?" Asuka finally stopped laughing, but her shoulders were still trembling. She released her grip on Choi's hand and rested it on her knees, her long red hair tracing arcs in the air as she shook her head. She stared at the body being observed by the doctors on the screen, her eyes gleaming with schadenfreude, licking her dry lips, waiting for Choi's answer.

"Although I hope so, unfortunately, it won't happen."

Cui Ming shifted his gaze from the monitor screen to the heavy blast door at the end of the corridor. The red warning light on the door was off, leaving only the green safety indicator light flashing rhythmically in the darkness. His fingers were in his pockets, his knuckles tapping lightly against the fabric, producing an almost inaudible rubbing sound.

Choi Myung knew that the old guard at Agency S would still save Sextant.
Those shadowy figures sitting in the conference room on the fifteenth basement level control a power network older than NERV. Their fingers dangle across every crucial node, from the gene bank to the arms factory, from the parliament to the black market. Although Sextans Gendo has become an academic specimen, the data from the Angel Contact experiments, the original keys to the Human Instrumentality Project, and the secrets buried beneath Tokyo-3 are assets those elders are unwilling to relinquish. They will deploy the best surgical teams, even going so far as to extract stem cells from the embryo bank for reconstructive surgery, to piece this twisted body back into human form. After all, in their eyes, Sextans is merely a useful tool, even if it's now stained with excrement and shame; as long as it can still be cut, it's worth recycling and polishing.

But so what?
It's nothing special.
Cui Ming's shoulders twitched slightly, and the rare smile on his lips slowly faded, but the ease in his eyes remained. He looked back at the screen; the attending physician was using a laser pointer to draw lines on the sextant, as if marking cutting lines. Asuka was still shrugging beside him, her red hair obscuring half her face, but her mouth was wide open, revealing her white teeth. The corridor's ventilation system hummed low, dispersing the heat from the monitoring equipment and bringing a cool, rusty scent.

Now that the powers of Dark Zagi and Gatanothor have disappeared, things can finally be peaceful for a while.
The energy remnants left behind by the Dark Destroyer from another universe, and the evil god's minions awakened from the depths of the Pacific Ocean, are gradually decreasing to zero on the monitoring equipment. In the sealed chamber deep within the base, the runes that once shimmered with a purplish-black light have now dimmed, becoming ordinary stone carvings. The shadows in the corners no longer writhe eerily, and the oppressive feeling in the air dissipates like the receding tide. The technicians walk more lightly through the corridors, no longer glancing up at the ceiling every now and then, worried that tentacles might suddenly pierce through the steel plates. The discussions in the canteen have temporarily shifted from mortality rates and survival probabilities back to boring gossip and complaints about the food.

However, Cui Ming knew that the apostles' things would be returned, although for Cui Ming, the apostles were really not a problem.

He pulled his right hand out of his pocket, cracked his wrist slightly, and the bones popped softly. The monitor switched to an exterior view of Tokyo-3. The distant sea was as calm as black glass, and the sky was a greyish-blue, a color unique to rain. Those monsters awakened from the White Moon, those anomalies that carried the name of angels and committed destruction, would break through the defenses again. They would tear through the AT field, their geometrically shaped bodies slamming into the armored ground, emitting shrill screams that could shatter glass.

But Cui Ming simply stood there, the heels of his military boots tapping lightly on the metal floor, making a soft thud. His gaze was as calm as if he were watching a weather forecast, his fingers unconsciously stroking the holster of his sidearm at his waist.

What is an apocalyptic event for ordinary people is, in his view, just a to-do item on his daily work list, which can be checked off and deleted with bullets, explosives, or more directly.

Asuka finally straightened up, wiping away the tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand. Her red hair clung messily to her face. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but Choi Myung had already turned and walked to the other end of the corridor. The hem of his military uniform swayed slightly with his steps, leaving behind a relaxed yet wary silhouette elongated in the cold white light. (End of Chapter)