A person in Tokyo becomes a demon god

Chapter 281 Kiss and Tears

"These researchers are quite capable."

As Qiuyue Ritsu flipped through the book 'As I Write' in his hand, he nodded slightly.

To be able to figure out the characteristics of the 'virus' he created so quickly, and even develop a targeted toxic agent, it has to be said that the world's technological capabilities are quite impressive.

The purpose of these poisons was obvious to Akizuki Ritsu. His response was—

do nothing!

"If this is all it is, it doesn't deserve the title of 'Blacklight Virus'."

Whether you can overcome this difficulty depends on your own fate.

Next, Akizuki Ritsu prepares to go to:

"sleep."

Yes,

It was already dusk on this island nation.

In the other world of 'The Netherlands', night had fallen, while in America, dawn was approaching.

After a night of fierce fighting, New York is about to see a turning point.

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.

Parker Pharmaceuticals,

Upon hearing this surname, most people would probably immediately think of 'Peter Parker', who sped through the skyscrapers of New York.

In reality, it's a very common surname, originally meaning 'the person who guards and manages the noble's deer park'. Simply put, this surname represents the caretaker of a noble family's forest.

It is a very common surname in America.

Karen Parker's family is a branch of the famous jazz musician Charlie Parker.

At the top of the building, Smith stood on the rooftop, gazing at the city in the darkness.

"Brother, what are you looking at here?"

Footsteps sounded behind me; it was Dana, a young female reporter.

The sounds of battle carried on the wind gradually subsided.

?

"Because it's almost dawn."

Smith explained as Dana looked on with a puzzled expression.

"According to researchers, these infected individuals dislike sunlight: perhaps simply out of instinct, or perhaps to avoid attacks from thermal weapons."

The researchers in the laboratory below are using every means possible to try to uncover more information.

The zombies' aversion to light is only one reason; a larger reason is:
"With the disaster raging now, apart from those hiding in sturdy buildings, most ordinary people in Manhattan should be dead, right?"

Hearing Smith's words, Dana stepped forward and followed his example, gazing into the distance.

However, it was pitch black, and nothing could be seen or heard.

Because infected individuals can disrupt light sources.

With their keen sense of smell, they can gain a huge advantage in the dark.

"If it were you in the past, you would have laughed and said: Look, these are the bones of losers."

Dana remarked that the Smith of the past would have been extremely happy; for him, this was a golden opportunity to reduce the number of competitors.

"People shouldn't do that,"

This left Smith, hidden under his hood, speechless.
"I'm curious, why was I the kind of person I was before?"

"Who knows?"

Dana shrugged at the question.

"Perhaps it's education, perhaps it's first love, perhaps it's school, but more likely it's the country."

America, a paradise for the rich and a hell for the poor: In the last century, with the rise of certain powerful presidents, it was indeed possible to distribute wealth to ordinary families. Coupled with the world's leading technology at the time, calling it a beacon of hope was not an exaggeration.

However, as large corporations expand, behemoths such as the military-industrial complex, data and technology alliances, and Wall Street pursue the maximization of their own interests, whether it be huge economic profits, stable political power, or specific ideological goals.

The so-called "revolving door" refers to the free movement of people between the US government, businesses, and think tanks.

Political lobbying and donations are used to directly influence policy decisions. For example, military-industrial complexes and technology companies invest huge sums in lobbying to instigate wars.

For example, Parker Pharmaceuticals owns a large number of fitness drugs and has influenced legislation to 'legalize' these drugs.

The American swimming team is full of purple-skinned players; other competitive teams also have a bunch of 'asthmatics'.

This fully demonstrates the power of technology!
As for the fate of the Americans?

What does this have to do with capital!
As a 'lighthouse' for this planet, it receives millions of immigrants every year, both legally and illegally.

The bottom layer? It's just consumables; can we really expect the capitalists' compassion?
Under such circumstances, competition within America is naturally very fierce.

Coupled with the trend of spending money in advance, it's no surprise that there are people who are "obsessed with money".

"Those things are in the past, let's look forward! Brother—"

"What are your plans next?"

Smith thought about Dana's question.

"I want to investigate the source of this 'supernatural disaster' and, if possible, prevent the disaster from spreading."

He's definitely not the brother he used to be.

"Okay, let me help you!"

Dana clenched her fist with fervor. She had chosen to become a journalist to stop people like Smith from acting recklessly: the $90,000 pack of screws was something her own brother had created.

shock the world!

Now that her brother has "turned over a new leaf," the female reporter is naturally thrilled.

America loves these inspirational stories of 'whitewashing' because very few people can actually do it.

Knock knock knock,

"Gentlemen, excuse me for disturbing your private time."

At the entrance to the rooftop, a blonde girl with a husky voice knocked on the door.

"We need to evacuate,"

This place was, after all, on the edge of the 'infected zone'. After contacting the company's higher-ups, namely Karen Parker's father, they were asked to leave.

The company can be handed over to professional brokers; as a capitalist, one should never linger in a dangerous place.

"what about you?"

As the three of them rode the elevator downstairs together, the blonde beauty Karen lowered her head and spoke.

"Would you like to leave with me?"

"No,"

Dana immediately denied it.

"We must investigate the truth behind this 'supernatural disaster'!"

As a journalist, she should demonstrate her professionalism at times like these. "Let the truth be revealed, remember the souls of those who have passed away, and may they find peace in heaven."

"Is that so?"

Karen, staring at her toes, gave a sullen reply and then fell silent.

This left Dana speechless for a moment. As for Smith? Since their reunion, although he has been very reliable, his personality has become too composed. Expecting him to tell a lame joke at a time like this?
Then forget it.

bite,

In this eerie atmosphere, the elevator arrived at the first floor.

"and many more,"

With their separation imminent, Karen finally spoke.

"Dana, could you wait here for a moment? I—"

She pointed at Smith, then pointed outside, her blonde face full of pleading.

"Please,"

The young female reporter eventually softened and raised her hand in acknowledgment.

"Don't waste too much time."

Hopefully, they won't have any breakup sex here, otherwise Dana suspects that with her brother's current 'strength,' they won't be able to separate by dawn.

As it turns out, unlike Dana, who was full of nonsense, Smith is now a total straight man.

"Miss Karen Parker,"

After seeing the other party out of the building, a helicopter was waiting on the helipad in front of them.

Smith stopped in his tracks.

"That's it."

The meaning is simple: he doesn't need to escort them for these few steps.

"Smith, are you no longer my 'Smith'?"

The blonde bombshell turned around, her eyes red and her voice full of sorrow, making it difficult for 'Smith' to keep a straight face.

"Feel sorry,"

"You know, I have no memories of the past."

Strictly speaking, it wasn't entirely without evidence: based on the other person's description and their interactions during that time, Smith recovered some fragmented memories: though the content wasn't pleasant—a past of a scheming, womanizing man who used sweet words to seduce a naive blonde.

It was all for the sake of getting help from the head of the Parker family.

After climbing to a certain position, he kicked the woman in front of him away.

“I have nothing to say about the past; if there is anything I can do for you, Miss Karen, please tell me.”

Looking at the steady and good man in front of her, the blonde beauty could no longer hold back her tears, which streamed down her cheeks.

"Can you kiss me?"

After saying those words, she seemed to have exhausted all her strength, and the woman staggered backward.

"No, no, please forget what I just said—"

Snapped,

Before Karen could back away any further, two hands grabbed her shoulders.

The next moment, a figure covered his face.

There was none of his former frivolity, nor the smell of smoke and alcohol; only a refreshing gentleness. This made the blonde Karen's eyes glaze over, and she subconsciously reached out to hug him.

Do not!
can not be like this!

Karen Parker suddenly opened her eyes wide and shoved Smith away.

However, it was too late.

"Cough cough cough,"

Pushed by the other party, Smith's powerful body, which was capable of speeding through the city, stumbled and staggered backward.

As he coughed, smoke and dust billowed from his mouth.

This wasn't because he suddenly mutated and gained some new ability.

Instead, a strange high temperature was spreading, heating up, and burning from his mouth inwards!
"Do it!"

Almost at the same time, several figures suddenly darted out from the corner of the parking lot!
Bang bang bang! !

Amidst the rapid and forceful footsteps,
These towering figures charged forward with a wildness that could smash a hundred-ton behemoth into scrap metal.

They grabbed Smith's hands, his waist, or his thighs, and suddenly pinned him to the spot.

brush,

at the same time,

A figure leaped down from above, concentrating all its strength in its hands.

puff,

Caught off guard, Smith, who was being restrained, was suddenly pierced through the skin by a needle made of 'supernatural alloy' in the other party's hand.

The next moment, the cold medicine was pushed into his body and spread rapidly throughout his body!
Danger! Danger! Danger!!
"Go away——"

A strong sense of crisis caused Smith to exert his strength suddenly; he actually managed to blast all of these 'super soldiers' wearing power armor away.

He reached behind him and pulled out the large syringe immediately.

Unfortunately, it was too late to change anything.

Most of the liquid in the syringe was violently injected into his body.

"Woo."

He let out a painful groan.
An indescribable feeling of weakness began to spread down my back.

At the same time, the high temperature penetrated deep into his mouth, giving Smith a taste of what it means to experience 'ice and fire'.

"Nice to meet you,"

Suddenly flung away, he tumbled in the air to dissipate the force, and as he landed, he slapped the wall behind him. The attacker, who had abruptly stopped with a deafening roar, let out a triumphant voice from beneath his power armor.

"Commissioner Smith,"

"No, it should be the original virus disguised as 'Commissioner Smith'!"

?

"sorry Sorry!"

The blonde woman, stumbling backward, covered her mouth with the back of her hand, crying and apologizing repeatedly.

What disturbed Smith's burning sensation came from her lips.

A virus that only works on infected individuals!

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.

P.S.: New game version, time to run a dungeon first, ahem...
(End of this chapter)