I became Hokage in Tokyo

Chapters 386 and 387: The Miracle of Resurrection!

Downstream from the city of Derna lies a rocky desert valley. Although not as barren as the Libyan desert, it is a vast expanse of gravel and shifting sands.

The sky was crystal clear, without a single cloud, and the air itself seemed distorted under the scorching sun.

"Ms. Shion, are you Japanese?"

A reporter from Le Monde is showering attention on a masked woman.

In the scorching heat of the outdoors, the group wore long-sleeved burqas, a style of clothing from the Middle East, to protect themselves from the sun and sand, covering their hands, feet, heads, and faces completely, leaving only their eyes exposed.

Even so, the young reporter from the land of romance could still tell from her slender figure and bright eyes that she was definitely a beauty.

The mysterious oriental charm, in particular, stirred the heart of the romantic Frank journalist.

The reporter tried everything he could, but the mysterious woman named Ziyuan ignored him and it took him a long time to get her name out of her.

"Ms. Shion also came to see this pyramid that was washed out by the flood. So, Ms. Shion must be very interested in Egyptian history."

The reporter was incredibly shameless, insisting on offering his kindness to someone who wouldn't listen.

"I took Ancient Egyptology at the University of Lyon. Miss Ziyuan, feel free to ask me anything you don't understand!"

Ring ring ring.

Ziyuan turned slightly to the side, revealing a delicate pink bell on her chest that made a clear, ringing sound.

"I am quite interested in the ancient Egyptians' concept of the afterlife and the gods of the underworld."

Like all ancient civilizations, ancient Egypt treated the dead as if they were alive. The pyramids and mummies, which are representative of the ancient civilization, were products of the pharaohs' desire for eternal life and resurrection in the afterlife.

Although Ms. Shion's interests were a bit peculiar, they happened to hit the reporter's sweet spot.

"When talking about the ruler of the underworld in ancient Egypt, we can't leave out Osiris. Well, his status in ancient Egypt was equivalent to that of Taizan-fu-kun in your Japan."

The reporter clearly pronounced the name of the deity, Lord Taishan.

After the advent of the extraordinary era, the Lord of Mount Tai immediately broke out of his circle and became one of the most well-known deities in the world.

Osiris holds a pivotal position in ancient Egyptian mythology. He was killed and dismembered by his brother Set, the god of the desert and storms, and was later resurrected by Anubis as the first mummy, becoming the ruler of the underworld.

"Oh," Ziyuan replied indifferently.

Yes, this famous myth about killing one's brother and taking his sister-in-law is well-known worldwide. How can one show off one's knowledge in such a way?

The reporter racked his brains trying to figure out how to make the beauty smile, when a black photographer, also wearing a burqa, ran back and shook his head at him.

"No, the negotiations failed; the locals won't allow us to take any more photos."

"What? You didn't show them Frank's passport?"

Feeling embarrassed in front of Ziyuan, the reporter immediately questioned her:

"Or contact the local government and tell them we are reporters from Le Monde, and ask them to make an exception."

"Government agencies in the Delna region are too busy dealing with the disaster to care about things like this in the countryside."

The Black photographer gave a wry smile, then turned his head to look again before whispering in his ear:

"And these villagers have already started looting the pyramid."

Looting!?

Just as the reporter was about to exclaim in surprise, the black photographer, with foresight, covered his mouth, shook his head, and gestured to avoid attracting attention.

Living off the land, tomb raiding has been a persistent problem in Egypt, a country rich in historical sites.

The pyramids left by pharaohs throughout history have been thoroughly looted by tomb robbers, leaving even the dead without peace.

The mummies of pharaohs and priests of high status were sold as cultural relics, while the mummies of ordinary people were ground into powder and became a popular medicine in Europe.

After the advent of the extraordinary era, the prices of artifacts from other ancient civilizations also rose, leading to a surge in the number of tomb raiders and artifact dealers willing to take risks.

In particular, the prices of ancient artifacts from before the Heian period in Japan have skyrocketed, changing daily, and are now available but unsellable on the black market.

Ultimately, the reason why the most extraordinary phenomena occur in Japan is that all other countries and regions combined account for only a fraction of the number of phenomena in Japan, which is why it is the most hyped.

"Given the current situation, it's not advisable to investigate further, as it could be dangerous."

The Black photographer released his grip, and the seasoned, shrewd advisor said:

"Let's go back to Delna first and then make further plans."

Although the reporter from Le Monde was a greenhorn, he wasn't a fool who knowingly walked into danger. After realizing the situation was hopeless, a hint of regret flashed in his eyes, and he said nothing more.

"Although the situation in Libya has been relatively stable after the alliance between Libya and Egypt, it is still chaotic after the hurricane and floods. It is not safe for Miss Shion to be walking alone in the wilderness."

Putting aside the idea of ​​making a big news story, the reporter turned to Ziyuan and began to fawn over her, wanting to act as her protector:

"Why don't you join us and return to Delna City?"

"Heh, I still have things to do."

A cryptic look appeared in her beautiful eyes behind the veil, and she remained noncommittal.

Just as the reporter's eyes were starting to glaze over, the Black photographer suddenly screamed:

"Wind... Sandstorm! It's a sandstorm!"

The young reporter immediately turned his head and saw a vast expanse of yellow sand on the horizon, with howling winds like the wailing of ghosts and gods, surging towards them with overwhelming force.

It instinctively evokes a sense of impending doom, and getting involved is likely to result in dire consequences.

The reporter and the Black photographer immediately turned around and scrambled away.

But how could human strength possibly match the might of nature? The two of them had only managed to escape for a few hundred meters when they were swept into the sky by the sandstorm.

Thomas spun around in mid-air for who knows how many times before the reporter and the black cameraman crashed heavily onto a sand dune.

Because of the sand dunes beneath them, the two were thrown around and felt dizzy, but they still managed to stand up unsteadily.

The first thing the Black photographer did upon regaining consciousness was to check his camera, which was his lifeline.

Fortunately, nothing bad happened.

"Shion, Miss Shion!"

The young reporter called out Ms. Shion's name loudly, but received no response, and looked around anxiously.

Dozens of unfortunate souls, just like him, lay scattered across the surrounding sand dunes, some lying down, some standing.

Miss Ziyuan was nowhere to be found.

The ragged, bearded men were probably villagers from the neighborhood.

There were also people covered in blood, wearing peacekeeping force uniforms...

"Colonel Bastian?!"

Upon seeing Colonel Bastian, looking like a defeated and disheveled army, along with several other members of the Frankish peacekeeping force, the young reporter stared wide-eyed, his face filled with disbelief.

What kind of strange wind swept so many people here?!

The young reporter's attention was immediately drawn to a three-tiered pyramid structure, more than ten meters high, not far away.

"Mastaba!"

Mastaba means "tall stone bench" in ancient Egyptian. It was the burial structure of the royal family and nobles in the early period of ancient Egypt and was the prototype of the pyramids.

"Are these the pyramids that were formed by the flood?"

Although it can be roughly classified as part of a pyramid, the mastaba in front of us, in terms of both size and form, certainly does not reach the level of a pharaoh; it is more like the level of a priest or nobleman.

Even if you write a report and publish it in Le Monde, you'll only get a tiny space at most.

The young reporter had no interest in making a big news story. He climbed a sand dune and looked around. He saw that, centered on the Mastaba Tomb, there were terrifying sandstorms and wind walls in all directions.

The area where everyone was located was calm, like the eye of a typhoon.

The reporter and the black photographer exchanged a glance, their faces full of disbelief, but their eyes were brimming with excitement.

This strange sandstorm is definitely not naturally occurring.

Perhaps they've been caught up in some supernatural event!

"Splash!" "Splash!"

More than a dozen figures fell from the sky, crashing headfirst onto the sand dunes, raising clouds of dust.

Before they could even get a good look, four skeletal figures, resembling armored warriors, suddenly appeared and loyally protected the others behind them.

"What kind of monster is this?!"

"A bone warrior? Is he an extraordinary being?"

"Gun! They still have guns!"

The others were immediately horrified and retreated hastily.

The group of people swept over by the sandstorm got up in less than half a minute, shaking their heads, and immediately formed a team with their guns pointed outwards.

They displayed exceptional physical qualities and an unwavering discipline, clearly indicating that they were an elite force.

"It's you guys!"

Colonel Bastian immediately recognized the group, drew his pistol, and gritted his teeth.

Immediately, a man-made superhuman coldly cast his gaze over, and Colonel Bastian felt a chill run down his spine, like a frog being stared at by a venomous snake.

They are extraordinary beings!

The fact that a superhuman was involved in organizing the attack makes the identity of the real culprit obvious.

The special forces commander on site ordered the four test subjects and his subordinates to keep watch in all directions while constantly glancing at the conspicuous Mastaba tomb.

He took out a communicator and quietly reported something.

The other special forces members frequently swept their unfriendly eyes across Colonel Bastian, the Le Monde reporters, and the other villagers.

The reporter couldn't help but shrink back, his hair standing on end.

What are these guys trying to do?

If they truly harbored malicious intent, even without those four suspected supernatural beings, the remaining soldiers could have wiped everyone out as easily as cutting melons and vegetables.

As the atmosphere grew increasingly uneasy, a streak of light fell and crashed into the sand, creating a large crater.

"Miss Jeanne!"

"Your Holiness!"

Upon seeing the face of the last visitor, the two reporters from Le Monde and the other villagers were overjoyed, as if they had found their pillar of support, and rushed to greet him.

"Now that I'm here, I won't let the innocent get hurt."

Although her hair and clothes were covered in dirt, making her look like a wild girl, the smile on Jeanne's face had a magical, calming, and infectious quality.

Jeanne then stopped smiling and walked toward the special forces and the four artificial superhumans.

"Miss Jeanne, please be very careful," Colonel Bastien warned anxiously.

"It's so good to see that you're safe and sound, Colonel."

Jeanne nodded.

Angelica and the other three test subjects stood like a stark white wall blocking Jeanne's way, while behind them, special forces soldiers pulled back their safety, their dark gun barrels pointing straight ahead.

Facing an enemy who could suddenly launch an attack at any moment, Jeanne calmly and loudly proclaimed:

"We were all summoned here by an unknown supernatural being using a storm. How about we call a truce for now?"

"We have full confidence in Miss Jeanne's credibility, so let's do as you say."

After a moment's hesitation, the on-site commander agreed. Following his gesture, the other special forces lowered their guns, but the four artificial superhumans intentionally or unintentionally stood in front of Jeanne.

At least the tense atmosphere has eased considerably.

"Whoosh whoosh whoosh!!!"

A mournful, howling wind suddenly exploded in mid-air, followed by a sandstorm sweeping over everyone's heads from the surrounding wind walls.

The Mastaba, a three-tiered pyramid that is over ten meters high, was weathered over a thousand years in just a few seconds, turning into sand and being swept into the sky.

All that remains at the site is a stone coffin on a stone base and four animal-head jars in the east, west, south, and north positions.

"Bang!"

Amidst the horrified, fearful, and horrified gazes of the crowd, a withered, bony arm pushed open the lid of the stone coffin.

The owner of the stone coffin stood up.

"mummy!"

Everyone could clearly see that it was dehydrated to the point where only a layer of skin and flesh remained on the skull, and its belly was shrunken to the spine, leaving an empty sac.

Then the mummy tore open the stitches on its belly, reached out and picked up a jar with a jackal's head, crushed it, took out the dark stuff inside, and stuffed it back into its belly.

"Gah... Karobik can..."

Such a horrifying scene made the reporter tremble with fear, his teeth chattering, and he could barely speak.

When the ancient Egyptians made mummies, they would remove the four internal organs—stomach, intestines, lungs, and liver—and place them in different jars for burial.

The others were also terrified and turned pale.

The only Black photographer, however, let his professional instincts overcome his fear, and he raised the camera with trembling hands.

After stuffing the internal organs of all the jars back into the body in the same way, the mummy finally emerged from the sarcophagus, its deeply sunken, empty eye sockets staring directly at everyone.

"Ooooooooo!!!"

As the mummy let out a terrifying roar, a swirling sandstorm descended, gradually filling its flesh and blood, transforming it into the appearance of a normal person.

The eyes grew back, but they were extremely strange, with the whites of the eyes completely black.

(End of this chapter)