A person in Tokyo becomes a demon god

Chapter 260 The Journey of Self-Discovery
"Scum?"

Was I bad before?

Faced with Smith's question, the young female reporter Dana was momentarily speechless.

How to put it? Smooth-talking, deceitful, greedy, selfish, unscrupulous, ungrateful, and a fan of Japanese anime, comics, and games; this is the most accurate description of her brother, Smith.

But no matter what, he is still her brother, and he just saved her.

When the topic came up, the woman named Dana scrutinized him closely.

"Are you really my brother?"

It's the same face, but the temperament is completely different, isn't it?

Calm, serious, and gives people a very reliable feeling.

Upon closer inspection, he's actually quite handsome.

If it weren't for that face, I wouldn't have been able to climb to that position.

The fact that he could easily take down these soldiers makes him seem like a supernatural being.

"It should be,"

Smith's uncertain opening,
"When I woke up, I was on the operating table in the emergency room."

Calling it an emergency room is a bit of an understatement; a morgue would be more appropriate: the state of being swept up like a beehive is, in human perception, only the possibility of it being a 'corpse'.

"I only found out my name was Smith and that I had a sister when I heard the medical staff talking about it."

That is, the young white female reporter in front of me.

Amnesia?
A look of sudden realization appeared on the face of the young woman named Dana.

I knew it! No wonder her cold-blooded and ruthless brother came to save her; it turns out he had amnesia.

Da da da da,

The sound of helicopter rotors in the distance interrupted the brother and sister's conversation.

"It's an Apache!"

As Americans, the two men immediately recognized the armed helicopter flying through the night sky.

The AH-64E Apache, equipped with a 30mm chain gun and Hellfire missiles, possesses powerful night combat and observation capabilities, making it ideal for the current supernatural disasters.

"go!"

Smith had no desire to experience the power of machine guns and Hellfire, and besides, even if he didn't care, what about his sister Dana?

"etc."

Smith swept his sister into a princess carry and kicked off the ground.

Waaaaah...

The howling wind in my ears
Dana had no choice but to shut up and bury her head in her 'brother's' arms.

"The target is moving at high speed,"

"Should we fire? Shit! Get out of the way!"

The first Apache driver to arrive hadn't even had time to ask his superiors when he saw a car tumbling down towards them.

Pulling the control stick sharply, the armed helicopter drew an arc in the air, attempting to escape the crisis.

However, it was too late; the rolling car crashed into the rear wing.

"64E2 is out of balance!"

"To repeat, 64."

With its tail fin smashed, the spinning Apache crashed headfirst into a towering building below amidst the pilot's desperate report.

boom----

He glanced back at the exploding helicopter.
Smith kicked a car off the street and used it as a 'weapon' to shoot down the plane, then head down and sped towards the building next to him.

"Target has entered the building!"

"Target lost! Repeat, target lost!"

Given the speed of a superhuman, modern weapons were ultimately too 'cumbersome'. By the time the subsequent armed helicopters released their 'drones' and the drones entered the building, Smith had already left from the underground parking lot with his sister and disappeared from sight.

"Amazing!"

After shaking off their pursuers, they arrived at a shopping mall. When Smith put Dana down, her face was filled with shock and admiration.

That scumbag brother actually possesses such immense power?

They kicked a car away and shot down an armed helicopter.

This is practically Hulk behavior!

"It's nothing,"

Smith humbly stated that

"The battles I watched on the billboards before, those were the real strong ones."

Forehead,
Dana didn't know how to respond to that.
Those are all 'great heroes' from Norse mythology, the pride of England, Italy, and Germany. Compared to them—

"I'm certain you really have amnesia."

If it were my older brother from before, he would have been spouting nonsense by now.

Thinking about it this way
Actually, 'The Amnesiac Brother' isn't bad either?

"You don't know yourself, why you gained this power, or why there's a 'zombie' disaster outside?"

Setting aside her distractions, young journalist Dana's immediate priority was to find out about her brother and the situation in the city.

"Yes,"

Smith nodded calmly.

"But one thing is certain: I am involved in this 'biohazard'."

As he spoke, he raised his right hand.

As the fingers wriggled, they transformed into fine, thread-like tendrils.

? !
Startled by this posture, Dana, realizing there was no danger, boldly approached.

"Can I touch it?"

".Can,"

Smith was somewhat speechless, letting his curious younger sister look and touch everything.

Is now the time to do this?

"So, your body is actually made up of countless of these 'tentacles'?"

After examining him, Dana understood: although her brother was still in human form, he was actually a different kind of being from normal people: his body was mostly made up of these strange fleshy tentacles.

"right,"

Smith has also had his body checked, and he is now:

tear-

He raised his hand and slashed across his chest.
The flesh was torn apart by the sharp fingernails, revealing the throbbing internal organs inside.

"All my organs are simulated and generated from these tentacles: that is to say, there are no weaknesses."

Of course, this body also follows certain rules; injuries require the consumption of 'qi' to recover; if the injury is too severe, it will also lead to weakness or even death.

The way to replenish 'qi' is simple: eat! Eat humans, eat zombies, eat mutants. All living beings are Smith's food, making him a man at the top of the food chain.

"Being able to simulate any organ, doesn't that mean..."

The young female reporter, Dana, looked at Smith's hands, and her face visibly flushed.

"abnormal!"

???

“Those soldiers are chasing me,” “I suspect I’m a survivor of some kind of secret government experiment.”

Having been inexplicably insulted, Smith decided to skip the previous topic and get straight to the point: the truth he had 'analyzed'.

"And you, as my sister, have been implicated."

"Well, it's very possible."

Dana agreed with Smith's speculation.

What is the American government incapable of? Every now and then there are accidents like 'lab monkeys' carrying the virus escaping or vehicles transporting contraband overturning.

Almost all disaster movies originate from government laboratories: this is based on factual evidence.

So the first reaction of the two siblings

Smith was an escaped 'experimental subject'.

"You're a special affairs commissioner for the federal government, how did you end up as a test subject?"

The so-called 'Special Affairs Commissioner' is directly appointed by the highest decision-making level and has broad powers that transcend the regular bureaucratic levels, used to investigate major issues or resolve specific crises.

Simply put, they are the white glove of the president and parliament.

This refers to the so-called "close advisors of the emperor".

"I have no idea,"

Smith shrugged helplessly.

He only knew his own name from other people, so how could he possibly know why he became like this?
"You, Dana, as my sister, do you have any clues?"

Dana shrugged in response to this question.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you,"

“I haven’t been in contact with you for three years: in my memory, my brother is just a scumbag who only knows how to climb the social ladder.”

She didn't even bother to glance at her younger sister.

Dana became a reporter entirely through her own hard work.

"Feel sorry,"

Completely surprised that he was this kind of person, Smith paused for a moment, then lowered his head slightly apologetically.

"No need to apologize. You may be a scumbag, cough cough, but that was the you of the past."

The man before me, whom I've met again after so long,

He doesn't look like that scumbag at all.

But it really is my older brother!

"Perhaps we could visit your place?"

After thinking about it, Dana made a suggestion.

“There should be a lot of information about you in your home.”

Moreover, with New York in chaos, it's difficult for the federal government to send people to guard my brother's house: the 'zombies' everywhere are the biggest obstacle.

"You're right,"

After finding his sister, Smith gradually had a goal.

"First, go to 'my house' and find out what kind of person I used to be. And—"

Who turned him into this state!
To live in this world
A clear goal is needed to motivate us to move forward.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Even if it's not human, it still has a clear 'goal'.

For example, the goal of a 'zombie' is to eat!

Lower Manhattan, Tribeca.

This is a gathering place for many emerging celebrities in the arts and sports.
However, when it comes to 'zombies,' celebrities and big shots are treated equally.

"Help me, help me—ah!"

The screams from behind made the people running wildly on the street spur their legs to break free, each one using every ounce of strength they had: it has to be said, the dark mass of people running at the front truly lived up to their reputation as genes selected through the Atlantic.

Black Americans who want to make a name for themselves almost always take the path of becoming celebrities in the arts and sports.
A strong physique, and a singing and dancing talent ingrained in his genes.

Black people stand out in the supernatural disaster known as 'Resident Evil': referring to their speed of escape.

For example, that young, black man running wildly at the front of the group.

"Whoosh, whoosh whoosh~~"

"Wait, Alex! Please—"

Behind him, however, a group of bodyguards and relatives were panting heavily, barely able to move.

"I pay you salaries so you can protect me!"

"I didn't send you here to hold me back!"

The young black man, Alexander, was running wildly ahead, and he even had the energy to complain as he ran.

Forget about his relatives; even his bodyguards can't outrun him. They're useless.

"And you, Tony!"

I've told you to lose weight, ... but you just won't listen!

Dragged along by two bodyguards, the man with a massive stomach that looked to weigh at least 400 pounds was the older brother of the young, black man running ahead.

Since his younger brother Alexander made a name for himself in the NBA, in accordance with the tradition of the Black community, he naturally had to share the good life with his poor relatives: unlike Alexander, who got up at four in the morning every day to practice, his older brother Tony really lived a life of leisure, so his physique is understandable.

It's fine normally, but now it's just a burden.

"Huff, huff, huff, huff."

Tony, the obese cousin, wanted to say something, but could only gasp for breath.

If it weren't for the relatively responsible bodyguards around him, he would have been left to feed the 'zombies' long ago.

However, being at the forefront does not necessarily equate to safety.

"roar,"

Just as the young black man Alexander, who was leading the way, was running past a car, a small figure suddenly leaped out of the car window.

"Oh, shit!"

He instinctively raised his arm to block, then suddenly flung the other person away.

boom! boom! boom!
An elderly white male bodyguard running behind immediately raised his gun and fired, accurately hitting the small zombie that had fallen to the ground.

"I warned you not to stray from the main force."

The stern-faced white male bodyguard ran up, his gaze falling on the back of the young black man's hand.

Wound!

This stunned the white male bodyguard.

"What are you still looking at, Mike!"

The young black man gritted his teeth, bringing the white man back to his senses.

"Get the fire axe!"

"Cut off my hand, quick!"

"Hoo-hoo, Alex, then you won't be able to hoo-hoo and play basketball."

The obese older brother, who was being dragged forward, instinctively tried to stop them.

"What's the point of playing basketball if you're dead?"

Besides, even if he doesn't play basketball, he can still sing, dance, and rap!
(End of this chapter)