Japanese Terrorist: What? I'll fight Hellstar!

Amamiya Rin had a premonition.

Whatever the reason, my body is probably already turning into something inhuman.

No! It already has!

His cranial nerves have been modified.

Although he was not very willing to admit it.

But... he can also spit out nerve threads, pierce into someone else's mouth, and connect their brain with his own.

However, shooting one's own cranial nerve into someone else's mouth... that's disgusting!

"All forms are illusory; if one sees all forms as non-forms, then one sees the Tathagata."

Amamiya Rin shook her head slightly, not particularly concerned about the changes in her body.

Ultimately, it's not certain whether the humans in this world and the humans of the previous life are the same kind of humans.

At noon, in an ordinary residential area of ​​Nerima Ward, stood a rather large detached villa. On the brick gateposts hung the nameplate of the previous resident.

"Is this the place?"

Four beautiful women with identical figures and appearances appeared at the entrance of the detached villa, looking up at the house in front of them.

This house doesn't look much different from the other houses next to it, except that it has been uninhabited for a long time and looks a bit dilapidated.

The paint on the walls was peeling and uneven, the drainpipes were tilted, and a piece of the exterior wall was missing. The weeds in the yard had grown to about calf height, and the neglected shrubs stretched out their branches wildly.

However, just standing at the doorway, you can feel the unpleasant atmosphere.

It's like a stone standing in the shade, silently standing in the warm sunlight. The air here seems colder than elsewhere, with an invisible sense of repulsion.

Anyone who dares to enter despite feeling this atmosphere is either ignorant or fearless.

Of course, ignorance is bliss is also a very common trait.

Tomie Kawakami took out the key she had obtained from the real estate agent and opened the gate to the courtyard.

The four of them glanced at each other, their faces showing disgust, and went inside one after another.

After passing through the overgrown front yard, we arrived at the main entrance of the detached villa.

As soon as I opened the door, an indescribable musty smell hit me.

"What the hell? It's old and broken, and it smells weird."

Tomie Kawakami pinched her nose and waved her hand dismissively, as if that would dispel the invisible stench.

"Yeah, can anyone really live in a place like this? Even the air feels dirty."

The others, including Tomie, nodded in agreement, their expressions of disdain growing even stronger.

From the second-floor window, a long-haired woman in white looked down at the four women below with icy eyes, her gaze filled with extraordinary malice and hatred.

Tomie Kawakami was completely oblivious to the hatred directed at her; she endured the disgust and went inside.

The room was dimly lit, with all the curtains tightly closed. Only a sliver of sunlight shone through the doorway, barely illuminating a small area of ​​the entryway.

The four women turned on the lights and, without taking off their shoes, stepped straight through the entryway into the living room, where most of the furniture was covered with white dust cloths.

Tomie casually lifted a dust cloth, but not much dust was stirred up. Perhaps it was because the program crew that visited a while ago had cleaned the place, which saved them some effort.

Four women, wearing high heels, walked across the hallway and living room without any hesitation, giving the room a cursory inspection.

There's not much to see on the first floor: a spacious Japanese-style room, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a staircase leading to the second floor.

When Kawakami Tomie climbed to the middle section of the staircase that curved at a right angle...

Suddenly, all four of them felt an indescribable sense of unease.

Continuing upwards is like seeing a shark's fin protruding from the water but still going into the sea.

Or, walking among piles of corpses of people who died from infectious diseases.

That's roughly the feeling!

Their emotional defense mechanism told them that they couldn't go any higher.

"What's the big deal?"

Unlike most people whose rationality overrides their emotions, Tomie and her ilk don't feel there's any danger that could harm them.

As long as we don't get torn to pieces and generate more fakes, there's nothing to be afraid of.

Death? Pain? It can be a kind of fun too.

Tomie Kawakami's steps grew heavier as she climbed the stairs, one step at a time.

Heavy noises echoed in the room. In the master bedroom on the second floor, the woman in white had a distorted face and exuded an aura of anger and resentment.

"Meow--!"

Suddenly, a shrill meow rang out, like fingernails scraping a blackboard, the piercing sound penetrating the heavy footsteps and ringing in Tomie's ears.

Startled by the sudden meow, Tomie Kawakami jumped. Enraged, she yelled, "Shut up! You rude animal! Stop meowing!"

Tomie Kawakami's angry curses echoed loudly in the empty stairwell.

The meow stopped abruptly, as if it had never happened, but the lingering harshness still lingered in my ears.

"You scared me..."

The other Tomie, who was following behind, patted her chest, her face still showing shock, which then turned into anger.

"Are there stray cats in this godforsaken place?"

"Maybe it's a ghost of a cat that died here."

The third Tomie spoke in a deliberate and sinister tone, but her eyes were full of mockery.

"A ghost? Hmph, let it come out and see if I can stomp its belly with my high heels."

Tomie, who spoke first, scoffed and continued walking upwards.

The second floor was dimmer than the first floor, and the air was more stuffy, carrying a mixed smell of old ash and rotten wood.

There are only two rooms here. Kawakami Tomie first opened the door next to the stairs to take a look. It was a Japanese-style room about eight tatami mats in size, which seemed to be used as a warehouse, with various odds and ends piled up.

She stepped out of the room and walked into the innermost room. As she opened the door to another master bedroom, a cloud of stale air rushed out.

Tomie Kawakami raised an eyebrow, her face full of displeasure.

"Don't block the way, get out of the way."

Kawakami Tomie, who was behind her, gave her a push and pushed Tomie into the bedroom, and the other three Tomies followed one after another.

The master bedroom is a Western-style room with about ten tatami mats. Ornate decorative lamps hang from the ceiling, and a large double bed is placed by the window. On the bedside tables on both sides are a pair of ceramic bedside lamps with white lampshades.

Tomie Kawakami groped around on the wall next to the door and found the light switch, then pressed it.

The ornate art lamp flickered a few times before turning on, casting a dim, yellowish light that barely dispelled some of the darkness. However, the light seemed to be mixed with dust, making it hazy and unable to illuminate every corner. Instead, it made the atmosphere in the room even more oppressive, and the air felt even more stifling than when the lights were off.

Under the light, the floor looked as if it had been soaked in paint, appearing even darker, and the shadows in the corners were particularly deep, as if something was lurking there, silently watching the group of uninvited guests.