Tokyo Detective Chronicles

Without a doubt, this is a man-made creature.

In this age of rampant psychic energy and demonic infestation, the creation of life is not a particularly unusual thing.

Despite being explicitly prohibited by the Yingzhou Special Affairs Division and major psychic organizations around the world.

However, influenced by the Yingzhou people's practice of saying one thing in public and another in private, research on such matters has never stopped, including by the Special Affairs Section's Cleaning Department.

The supervisor is considered to be the top psionic bioscience expert in the entire continent of Yingzhou.

That's why the style of the monster's corpse in front of him gave the supervisor an extremely strong sense of déjà vu.

He seems familiar...

Suddenly, his fingers froze.

The surrounding researchers were momentarily at a loss when they saw their supervisor suddenly stop what he was doing, but they didn't dare to disturb him...

Some memories suddenly appeared in the supervisor's mind...

……

The air was filled with the smell of incense.

The sound of chanting filled the air.

He was very young, so young that he had to strain his neck to see what was above him...

Buddha.

That was a Buddha.

But it is by no means the kind of compassionate, downcast, gilded Buddha that would be enshrined in any proper temple.

The giant Buddha sits on a lotus platform, but the lotus petals have a bloody, mangled texture, layer upon layer like open wounds, oozing blood.

The Buddha's body is a dark, almost blackish purple, with a surface covered in honeycomb-like pores, from which a viscous, semi-transparent black liquid slowly seeps out.

The face of Buddha...

In reality, the supervisor suddenly stopped breathing.

That face lacked the contours of a human face, containing only three distorted hollows: two eyes and one mouth.

The cave is something deeper than darkness, as if it can suck away all light and thought.

Gazing at it is like gazing at the nothingness before the birth of the universe, or the deathly silence after the complete extinction of life.

To merely look directly at it is blasphemy.

The Buddha's expression was neither a smile nor a sorrow, and his eight arms held up different ritual implements.

And around the Buddha, something was indistinctly prostrate...

A smooth, grayish-white creature with multiple limbs and a ferocious mouth... a monster.

How similar it is to the one on the dissection table before us... only smaller, more primitive, like embryos still in amniotic fluid, emerging one by one from the honeycomb-like holes on the Buddha's body...

It rolled to the ground... writhing wildly in the viscous fluid seeping from the Buddha's body.

The little boy stood there, trembling, wanting to scream, but no sound came out of his throat.

He saw his parents, whose faces he could no longer recall, kneeling before the Buddha, their bodies undergoing some terrible change, something writhing beneath their skin, their bones creaking under the weight...

And a heart-wrenching scream...

Turning back, her mother, whose face was already a bloody mess, said, "Don't...look..."

"Hmm...uh..."

The supervisor abruptly snapped out of his reverie.

He suddenly bent over and began to gag violently.

Cold sweat instantly soaked my back, and my heart was pounding against my ribs, bringing real pain.

The left cheek, where he had been punched by Kuroda, was throbbing with a burning pain, but strangely, it helped him anchor himself in reality.

"director?"

A young researcher cautiously touched his arm: "Are you alright?"

The supervisor waved his hand, his movements somewhat stiff.

He looked down at his hands, which were covered in black blood-stained gloves and were trembling slightly uncontrollably.

"It's nothing..." His voice was terribly hoarse.

He broke free from the researcher's support, stumbled and rolled off the dissection table, struggled to his feet, and limped toward the nearby sink.

Turn on the tap, and cold water gushes out.

He took off his gloves, put his hands under the running water, and scrubbed them vigorously.

The water washed away the bloodstains between his fingers, splashing crimson droplets on the bottom of the metal pool.

He washed very slowly and vigorously, his fingernails scratching his skin, leaving bloody marks...

As the last drop of water dripped from his fingertips, he turned off the tap and turned away.

"Kuroda".

He spoke, his voice calm: "Come with me for a moment."

Kuroda frowned, stubbed out his cigarette, and followed.

……

The supervisor's office was a complete mess, unsurprisingly.

All sorts of bizarre specimens were preserved in formalin jars, piles of documents were teetering on the edge, whiteboards were covered with symbols and structural diagrams that normal people could not understand, and there were even a few half-eaten cup noodles lying in the corner.

"Kuroda".

He began by asking, "Have you heard of the 'Creation Cult'?"

Kuroda frowned: "The Creation Cult?"

"A cult."

The supervisor walked to the filing cabinet by the wall, entered the password, and pulled open one of the drawers: "Active more than 30 years ago, at its peak it had thousands of followers."

"The core of the doctrine is...the creation of new life."

He took a yellowed file folder from the drawer, with the word "Top Secret" printed in red on the cover.

Kuroda's brow furrowed deeper and deeper. He had worked in the Special Affairs Section for so many years, but he had never seen a document of this type before...

They believe that humanity has reached the end of its evolutionary journey and is a failed creation of the old gods. Their mission is to create a new species that is more perfect, more powerful, and more suitable to take over the world.

He placed the file folder on the worktable but did not open it.

"This is a backup file that I secretly hid back then..."

"The Special Affairs Division raided their headquarters in 1992 and arrested most of the top officials. But the core research data... especially the part about 'life design'... has never been found."

He paused, his fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the file folder.

"Shortly after that, the Creation Cult disappeared without a trace, and its remaining followers scattered like monkeys fleeing a fallen tree. The case was gradually sealed away, and fewer and fewer people knew about it."

Kuroda stared at him, noticing the problem.

"You were only about ten years old in 1992, right? How did you get involved with the Special Affairs Section?"

The supervisor stared at the ceiling:

"I am one of the survivors that the Special Affairs Division picked up from the Creation Cult. My parents... were turned into monsters there..."

……

Chiyoda Ward, Fushimi Detective Agency.

"Click."

A soft click of a metal clip popping open was particularly clear in the basement of the Fushimi family home.

Fushimi Iori had just finished another autopsy.

He removed his blood-stained latex gloves and tossed them into a sealed biological waste bin at his feet. The bin was already overflowing with gauze, cotton swabs, and pieces of flesh and blood, all soaked in mucus.

On the operating table in the center of the room, the white, leech-like monster was firmly nailed to the metal tabletop with eight nails.

"Ouch... Ugh... Mom... It hurts..."

Fushimi Iori stood beside the operating table, wearing a medical mask and goggles.

He picked up a portable video camera with his left hand and pointed the lens at the operating table.

The red light on the VCR was on, and the time was displayed in the corner of the screen: **02:47:33**.

"Second live autopsy status recording, continuing."

He put the video recorder back on the stand, changed into a new pair of gloves, and picked up the scalpel.

"Hiss!!!"

The most agonizing screams echoed in the sealed basement.

……

The name "leech monster" was just a name Fushimi randomly came up with based on his first impression, and it is not actually accurate.

This thing has absolutely nothing to do with leeches.

Fushimi had a feeling of déjà vu ever since the monster appeared on the train.

Only now has it finally been verified.

Inside the leech monster's body, he found four pairs of appendages that had not yet begun to develop.

The white leeches, the grayish-white monsters on the tram... are different developmental stages of the same thing.

Fushimi's theory is that it is highly likely a man-made product...

He has already asked his friends in the black market to start researching this information.

Having achieved the result he wanted, he began cleaning the dissection table. The creature's vitality was more tenacious than he had imagined; it seemed that as long as the head was not damaged, this level of trauma would not be fatal.

Fushimi did not investigate further.

He took a bottle of nutrient solution from the refrigerator next to him, unscrewed the cap, and poured it directly onto the leech demon.

"hiss--!!!"

Fu Jian expressionlessly took out the talisman and put it back into it.

It was already noon the next day. He had asked the school for a few days off, and in his current condition, it was clearly no longer appropriate for him to go back to school.

Fushimi's hearing has also recovered most of its strength.

After washing and drying his hands, he took out his phone.

The screen lights up, showing several unread messages.

The top one is from an unmarked number.

The message is very brief:

What did you do?

Last night, three groups of people came looking for your information; they were all quite influential.

……

I've sent you what you requested.

Below is a download link for the encrypted file.

Fushimi unlocked his screen and clicked on the link.

The file was downloaded and automatically decrypted, containing dozens of files and records of a cult of spiritualists.

Most of the organizations within are still active today, with only a small portion having been dismantled.

Among them are "Records of Activities Related to the Creation of Life Cult".