Guyver Armor: KAP-2

The night was as dark as ink, thick as asphalt that could not be dissolved, completely enveloping the mountain roads in the mountains surrounding Tokyo.

A rusty van sped along the gravel road, its engine groaning laboriously.

The two headlights on the front of the truck were old and their light was as weak as a candle flickering in the wind, yet they still tried their best to cut through the thick darkness ahead.

"Hey bro, looks like you're being chased by someone?" The truck driver's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. He tried to sound casual as he spoke, but his eyes, like those of a hungry wolf, were glued to the black travel bag in the passenger seat, never looking away.

The travel bag was stuffed full, its corners stretched out of shape, and even through the thick canvas, one could vaguely feel a strange heaviness.

The driver was certain that what was inside was not clothing or miscellaneous items, but something far more valuable.

The man in the passenger seat huddled up, trying to press his body against the seat as if he wanted to hide himself in the shadows of the car.

His messy hair clung to his sweaty forehead, covering most of his face, leaving only his dry, chapped lips and stubble around his mouth visible.

His tattered jacket was covered in stains and holes, with the most conspicuous tear on his left shoulder, revealing several grotesque, crisscrossing wounds underneath. The dark brown scabs still had a hint of undried dark red, indicating that he had been injured recently. Even the slightest movement would aggravate the wounds, causing excruciating pain.

He was Kronos's beastman test subject, codenamed "White Mouse"—a pitiful person who underwent repeated beastmanization and adjustment experiments in the organization's laboratory and was given an insulting codename.

He was the only survivor of the "Unit G" rebellion, and also the weakest and most inconspicuous of the rebellion test subjects.

The travel bag he was clutching tightly contained the three "Unit G" sets that they had stolen from the laboratory vault during the chaos.

That was the alien legacy left behind on Earth by the Adventists, an ultimate weapon with world-destroying power, and a core objective that the Japanese branch of Kronos was determined to reclaim at all costs.

"Say...say what?" The white mouse's voice was dry and hoarse, as if it had been repeatedly rubbed with sandpaper.

He abruptly turned his body to the side, using his hunched back to block the driver's view, and hugged his travel bag even tighter, his knuckles turning white from the force, the veins bulging as if they were about to burst through his skin.

A barely perceptible sound wafted from the gaps in the package, like some living thing breathing or wriggling.

He paused for a moment. As his emotions fluctuated, he could clearly feel the beast-like factors within his body surging wildly, like a wild beast trapped in a cage, wanting to break free of its restraints.

Every breath was accompanied by excruciating, tearing pain. It felt as if countless blunt knives were churning inside his chest, a lingering effect of the long-term human experimentation and modification by Kronos, which never ceased.

"Stop playing dumb!" The truck driver suddenly slammed on the brakes, the screeching sound of the brake pads breaking the silence of the mountain road, so sharp it hurt your eardrums.

The truck came to a sudden stop at the corner, and the huge inertia caused the mouse's body to lean forward instantly, almost hitting the cold windshield.

The driver turned around, and the amiable pretense on his face vanished completely, replaced by a nakedly greedy expression.

"That bag of yours looks heavy. What good stuff is hidden inside? Smuggled cash? Or high-purity drugs?"

He rubbed his hands together, his eyes gleaming with greed, like a jackal spotting its prey: "Let me tell you, I've been running this road for five years. What haven't I seen? It's a win-win situation. Give me half, or I'll call the police right now and say you're carrying contraband. When the police arrive, you're in for it!"

"This isn't what you're thinking." The little white mouse looked up wearily, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes.

"This thing is dangerous; it will kill you. I just want to get to the designated location as soon as possible and destroy it. I don't want to involve any unrelated people."

He was telling the truth. Kronos's pursuit was everywhere, and he didn't want this driver, who was only after petty gains, to be dragged into this inevitable vortex.

"Hmph, you ungrateful bastard!" The driver was completely enraged by his refusal, and the greed on his face turned into a ferocious expression.

He grinned maliciously, leaned forward, stretched out his rough, large hand, grabbed the white mouse's arm, and shoved the seemingly weak man off the vehicle.

The white mouse fell heavily onto the gravel-strewn road. The sharp stones cut his already injured shoulder and arm, and blood instantly seeped out, staining the gravel beneath him red.

But he held onto the travel bag tightly, and even as the excruciating pain caused his body to convulse, he did not loosen his grip even slightly.

"If you don't want me to call the police, then behave yourself and give me your bag!" The driver stood at the car door, looking triumphantly at the man lying on the ground, his face full of victorious air.

He was certain that the thin man wouldn't dare to resist, and was just waiting for the other party to obediently hand over the travel bag. However, he didn't notice that the figure curled up on the ground had silently stood up at some point.

"Ah..." The man lowered his head in pain, letting out a suppressed growl from his throat. His eyes were wide open, and his originally cloudy pupils began to turn white rapidly, as if covered by a thick fog.

"Crack, crack, crack..." A chilling sound of bones tearing apart rang out in the silent night, so clear it sent shivers down one's spine.

The white mouse's body grew taller and taller under the truck's headlights, its original height of less than 1.7 meters instantly exceeding 2 meters, casting a huge and distorted shadow on the driver's face through the headlights.

The already tattered jacket could no longer withstand the expansion of the body and was forcibly torn apart, turning into a pile of scattered rags, revealing the gradually mutating body underneath.

Pale gray scales rapidly emerged from beneath his skin, sprouting like bamboo shoots after a spring rain and covering his chest, arms, and thighs. In the areas not covered by the scales, scarlet muscle tissue was exposed nakedly to the air.

His hands and legs twisted and grew longer and thicker, the sound of bones rubbing together clearly audible. Three-inch-long metallic claws slowly emerged from his fingertips and toes, gleaming coldly under the car headlights.

The driver's smirk vanished abruptly, his triumphant expression frozen in place.

His eyes widened, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints, and his legs began to tremble violently and uncontrollably. It was as if something was blocking his throat, and he could only make strange "hoarse" sounds, unable to utter a complete sentence for a long time.

He stared at the increasingly towering black shadow before him, his voice filled with utter terror: "You... what exactly are you?"

Upon hearing the sound, the transformed white mouse suddenly raised its head, which resembled that of a demon. Its eyes had lost all human clarity, leaving only a murky, bloodthirsty red light.

That was the bestial instinct forcibly implanted into his body by the Kronos experiment, which awakened uncontrollably under the driver's threat and the intense pain from his wounds.

At this moment, he was half a test subject forced by pain, and half a beast driven by instinct.

"ah--!"

A piercing scream tore through the night sky along the mountain path, but it lasted only a moment before being completely swallowed up by the thick darkness.