A person in Tokyo becomes a demon god

Chapter 279 Research and Chance Encounters

"looking at what?"

In the pharmaceutical company's office,
Karen Parker, blonde, walked up behind Smith, who was sitting on the sofa.

She saw that her 'ex-husband' was holding a phone that was repeatedly playing videos of the 'Rose Garden Tournament' in another world.

"Studying the battles of supernatural powerhouses,"

On the phone screen is a video that has been completed by various AI experts and then slowed down tenfold; otherwise, with the eyesight of an ordinary person, they would only see blurry images.

As complained online, without supernatural dynamic visuals, it's hard to see anything clearly when watching the show.

Slowing it down tenfold, and with the AI's feedback, it was finally possible to 'see' each move clearly.

"What's so interesting about this?"

Karen Parker blurted out something on impulse, then realized she had misspoke and raised her hand to cover her lips.

Although the man in front of her was her 'ex-husband,' he had lost all his memories and was no longer the familiar and disliked person he once was. Moreover, if he hadn't lost his memories, given Smith's personality, he would definitely have given her a good scathing rebuke: and this was before he had any supernatural powers.

I dare not imagine what I would do with supernatural powers.

“You’re right,”

Smith, sitting on the sofa, neither got angry nor mocked her.

"The battle itself is meaningless; it is merely a way to exercise one's will through violence."

"But if you don't know how to fight, you'll be forced by someone else's will—I don't like that feeling."

"You've really changed,"

These words made the blonde girl behind him sigh.

The Smith of the past was like a perpetually hungry hyena, always looking to grab money: his greed was astonishing.

Now, the man sitting in front of her seems more like a 'poet' or a 'philosopher'?
"It seems that I left you with too many bad impressions in the past."

Ever since I found out who I was 'before',
Smith felt both amused and exasperated.

money?

Is it that important?

There's no way around it; he's been a supernatural being ever since he woke up.

Even the zombies, mutants, and even hunters that everyone fears are just his 'experience packs'.

The considerations are naturally different: the perspective, even the 'species' are different.

"It is said that supernatural beings have a strong resistance to viruses."

"If I could also master the use of 'psychic energy,' perhaps I could save the infected?"

Hearing Smith's mutterings, Karen Parker walked around the sofa and sat down next to him, looking intently at the man under the hood.

"You can do it for sure."

Beep beep beep

Just then, Karen's phone rang.

"I'm going to take a call,"

"Please."

After his 'ex-wife' left, Smith continued to study the battles of the masters.

In this city ravaged by the virus, he was like an 'invincible' being: but what if he left the city?
The supernatural beings from island nations and even other worlds are not subject to his control, nor are they 'experience packs' for him; Smith does not want to get into conflicts with others, but often, no matter how much you try to avoid trouble, it will still find you.

for example?

Smith,

The blonde bombshell returned to the office, her eyes darting around somewhat.

"The initial research report is out."

"Want to go listen to it together?"

"certainly,"

Smith put away his phone and stood up.

With her sister Dana by her side, the three of them quickly passed through numerous quarantine checks and arrived at the laboratory at the heart of the building.

"Everyone, thank you for risking your lives to bring back the 'samples'."

In the laboratory, researchers wearing white lab coats with bloodstains on their gloves and eyes filled with a mixture of fear and excitement approached.

"Time is of the essence, so I'll keep it brief."

"We have made some groundbreaking discoveries, but the bad news is that there will be no vaccine in the short term."

The moment the other party spoke, all three of them turned serious.

"We have identified the pathogen as a previously unseen chimeric retrovirus, tentatively named NYZ-1 (New York strain zero-1)."

As researchers at a major pharmaceutical company, their professional competence is naturally guaranteed.

The researcher explained in detail:
"As a retrovirus, it can integrate its genetic material into the host's DNA. This means that the infection is irreversible. We cannot 'kill' the virus without killing the infected cells."

"At the same time, the pathogen's gene sequence exhibits extremely high instability."

"This means that even if we create a vaccine tomorrow, it could evolve into a variant next week."

The researchers' harsh words directly ruled out the possibility of a 'vaccine'.

Furthermore, other findings were also made:

"Based on our preliminary analysis, the infected individuals did not 'come back from the dead'."

"Their higher brain functions have been shut down, which can be understood as 'the person' being dead."

"What drives this body now is a highly specialized, parasitic neuropathogen that has hijacked its nervous system. It bypasses the cerebral cortex and directly controls the brainstem and spinal cord, turning it into a pure 'predator machine.'"

"and many more,"

At this point, Smith interrupted the researchers.

“I have encountered more advanced ‘mutants’ who exhibited obvious human emotions.”

Some even know simple words: it's not as simple as mindless zombies.

"Such a thing actually exists?!"

The researcher in the white coat was taken aback, then the excitement on his face turned into fervor.

"Where are these 'mutants'? Let me investigate; perhaps I'll make some new discoveries!"

"Do you need me to get one?" Smith asked after leaving the lab.

"Will there be any danger?"

Dana's first thought was this, but she was overthinking it. For Smith now, ordinary 'mutants' were not much more dangerous than zombies.

"Won't,"

"But your safety—"

What danger could we possibly be in?

When asked about this, Dana waved her hand dismissively.

"It is said that with the help of supernatural beings from the island nation, the outbreak has been contained in the Manhattan area."

"With the security personnel here, ordinary 'zero-dollar purchases' can't get in."

Besides, this is a pharmaceutical company, why would they come here?
It's not like they created the virus.
"it is good,"

In that case, Smith decided to go out for a while.

"Please be safe."

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.

Manhattan, Upper East Side.

Fifth Avenue divides Manhattan into the East Side and the West Side.

The Upper East Side is a gathering place for the wealthy, a renowned hub for the "old money," where various influential families own residences.

However, no amount of money could withstand the impact of supernatural forces: when the 'biohazard' broke out, the local elites fled by helicopter, leaving behind a large number of managers, butlers, drivers, bodyguards, servants, and surrounding service personnel, all of whom perished.

"Roar Kill"

A burly man in a black suit roared and charged toward Alexander.

Wow!

In a swift movement, he dodged the opponent's heavy blow: half of the bodyguard's body had become obviously infected with a virus, with a large number of twisted black and red tentacles coiled into a ferocious and muscular arm. He charged forward and threw a punch that dented the exquisite courtyard on the spot.

"Not bad strength."

As he dodged, Alexander suddenly twisted his waist and spun around.

The force originated from the legs, traveled to the waist, and then to the elbows: the black and red tentacles wrapped around and reinforced the elbows, sweeping towards the opponent's jaw with the full force of the body.

bang————

Baga,

The loud noise was mixed with a terrifying crackling sound.

The black-suited 'hunter' suddenly flung his head to the side.

Half of his chin flew off, demonstrating the immense force of that elbow strike.

"Unfortunately, they neither know how to exert force nor how to dodge."

The fact that his opponent took an elbow strike without being instantly defeated shows that his strength was already extremely high.

"What can I say?"

For the young black man, bullying an amateur was nothing to brag about: with a whirlwind of elbow strikes, he smashed the opponent's head open. The 'hunter's' arm was still swinging wildly, but after losing control, he could only helplessly fall backward.

Next, if 'Little Elbow' eats this 'Hunter', its strength will increase again—?!

Waaaaah...

The whooshing sound behind him made Alexander instinctively lunge forward.

boom! !

A nearby statue suffered a major misfortune; it was swept away and instantly shattered, sending fragments of stone flying everywhere.

brush,

Before the rubble could hit the ground, the attack from behind closed in again.

A terrifying sense of crisis enveloped him, and Alexander instinctively rolled out again.

Click! !
Smith stomped heavily on the spot where his opponent had just fallen, but missed. As huge cracks spread and spread, Smith, under his hood, looked puzzled.

It's amazing that he was able to dodge his own attacks twice in a row. It seems that:
"Elite hunters?"

Before the other man could get up, he rushed forward again, stretched out his right hand, which suddenly lengthened into a whip, silently wrapped around the 'old black man's' ankle, and then suddenly swung him high into the air, smashing him down towards the half-statue he had just seen.

"Wait--"

Boom! !
Before he could finish speaking, Old Black transformed into a meteor hammer and smashed it heavily onto the statue, turning this masterpiece into complete ruins.

"Ok?"

However, this made Smith stop.

"They've actually evolved to beg for mercy?"

"Wait, I'm not a zombie, I'm a human!"

Amidst the billowing smoke and dust, a clear and articulate voice rang out.

Is it a human?

Smith frowned, his arm, which had transformed into a whip, not retracting.

How can you prove you're a human being?

"Hey, buddy."

Alexander, lying in the ruins, fanned away the dust and grime, and asked irritably:

"Then how do you prove you're a human being?"

If one arm turns into a whip, how dare you call yourself a human being?