As a weirdo, I like being a Kamen Rider

Lin Chen wiped the blood from his palm with his sleeve, straightened his clothes, and went outside.

Just as he reached the conference room door, he bumped into Bingchuan Cheng. He was holding a stack of documents and, upon seeing Lin Chen, paused for a moment: "Mr. Lin Chen, where have you been? I've been looking for you for ages. Director Xiaoze is all set and waiting for you."

"It's nothing, I just went for some fresh air," Lin Chen said casually, hiding his injured hand behind his back.

Bingchuan Cheng had no doubts, nodded, and pushed open the conference room door.

Chapter 78 Diary and Strange Dreams

In the conference room, Sumiko Ozawa was already seated at the head of the table. A scanned copy of her diary was projected onto the projector in front of her. Takahiro Omuro sat beside her, pen in hand, looking tense. Toru Hojo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face still grim.

“Everyone’s here, let’s begin.” Ozawa Sumiko pushed up her glasses, her tone heavy. “First, the autopsy results. The deceased is indeed Ashihara Ryo, and the time of death was confirmed to be around midnight last night. The fatal wound was a penetrating wound to the chest, a single blow that pierced through the heart and lungs. The deceased lost consciousness within 0.5 seconds of being attacked, without any chance to resist. The opponent’s strength far surpasses any Unknown we have encountered before.”

She paused, then pulled up a close-up photo of the body: "Furthermore, as we saw at the scene, the deceased's body showed severe cell necrosis and organ failure. According to the tests, his physiological age was at least seventy years old, but his actual age was only twenty-one."

The meeting room was silent. Everyone stared at the photograph, their hearts heavy.

“Next is the diary.” Sumiko Ozawa switched the projection. “The diary was soaked in seawater, and some of the writing is blurred, but most of the content is still legible. I’ve organized it and will read it to you in chronological order.”

She cleared her throat, her voice calm yet carrying an undeniable sadness:

"March 12th. Something strange happened today. On my way to training on my motorcycle, I was hit by a truck. I should have died on the spot, but I stood up unharmed. The truck driver was so scared that his face turned pale and he drove away. I felt like something inside my body had woken up."

"March 18th. During swimming training, I suddenly experienced severe muscle spasms throughout my body and lost consciousness. Later, I discovered that I could suddenly turn into a monster."

"March 25th. I dropped out of school. My girlfriend also broke up with me because of my monstrous appearance."

"April 3rd. My father died. The police said he committed suicide due to a mental breakdown. Among his belongings, I found a black diary."

Sumiko Ozawa paused, then switched to the next scanned page: "Next is Genichiro's diary, which records the Dawn Incident."

Suddenly, a white light appeared on the sea, so bright it was blinding. A man dressed in white lay dead in the cabin. Then, a blue monster emerged from the sea. It looked at us and said, 'You will all die.'

"Then, the ship sank. Thirty-one people survived. Only the young man named Zetsuya Sawaki died."

"Behind this is a complete list of survivors from the Dawn, thirty-one in total, with their names, ages, occupations, and contact information all clearly written down." Ozawa Sumiko pointed to the list on the projection. "On the last page, Genichiro wrote a line in red pen: Don't trust anyone. Don't look for the truth. Survive."

The atmosphere in the meeting room grew even more oppressive. Bingchuan Cheng clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles turning white. He was the patrolman who had saved the survivors of the Tianliang ship years ago. He would never forget the scene that day, nor the terrified faces of those survivors.

“Ashihara Ryo inherited this diary,” Ozawa Sumiko continued reading. “He gave up swimming, dropped out of university, and started riding his motorcycle, searching for the survivors of the Dawn one by one, following the addresses on the list. He wanted to know why his father committed suicide, what exactly happened on the Dawn, and what the connection was between the changes in his body and the shipwreck.”

"But all the survivors died one by one, and only three people were recorded."

"Shinohara Aki. She was a nurse. She wasn't afraid when she saw me transformed. Later, Unknown found Shinohara Aki. When Ashihara Ryo arrived, she was already on the verge of death."

"Later, he found Sagara Katsuhiko. He locked himself in his house and refused to see anyone. He told Ashihara Ryo that more than a dozen survivors had been killed by the Unknown. They were eliminating the survivors one by one. The next day, when Ashihara Ryo went to see him again, he had hanged himself."

"Why?" Ozawa Sumiko's voice trembled slightly. "These are the words that Ashihara Ryo wrote on this page. There are only three words, but they are written with such force that they have torn the paper."

“From then on, Ashihara Ryo embarked on a path of hunting Unknowns alone.” Ozawa Sumiko took a deep breath and continued reading, “He no longer sought out survivors, but took the initiative to attack, going wherever Unknowns appeared. However, the cost of transformation became increasingly high, and after each battle, he would become extremely weak, and his body would deteriorate.”

"Later, not long ago, he felt he was going to die. He felt he didn't have much time left."

"Next, at the beach, he met a little boy named Kazuki Asano. His parents were killed by an unknown sea urchin. He killed the unknown and saved Kazuki Asano. At first, he was afraid of Ryo Ashihara, but later he kept following him."

"He took Asano Kazuki to the church for his parents' funeral. Then he sent him to stay with relatives in the countryside."

He went back to the beach, packed his bags, and prepared to leave.

"The diary ends here." After Xiaoze finished recounting the contents of the diary to everyone, the meeting room fell silent.

The cool white fluorescent lights illuminated the laboratory with meticulous detail, and dozens of monitors simultaneously displayed waveforms and data. The air was filled with the acrid smell of overheated circuit boards and the bitter aroma of instant coffee, while the instruments beeped incessantly.

Sumiko Ozawa's desk was piled high with test reports, and behind her on the whiteboard were three large characters written in bold red marker: "Power of Light," with a huge question mark next to them.

Look at this!

Sumiko Ozawa slammed her hand on the control panel, pointing her finger at the fluctuating green curve on the large screen, her words coming out at lightning speed: "This is the 24-hour continuous monitoring curve of the light power within Ashihara Ryo's body. Normal bioenergy is a chaotic Brownian motion, but here—it fluctuates precisely every 15 minutes, with an amplitude error of no more than 0.3%! This isn't the natural decay of energy; this is breathing!"

She used a laser pointer to draw equidistant dotted lines on the curve, her fingers flying across the keyboard to retrieve a surveillance video: last night at 11 pm in the autopsy room, Hikawa Makoto, wearing rubber gloves, reached out to touch the wrist of a corpse. Just as his fingertips were a centimeter away from the skin, the energy value at the bottom of the screen suddenly jumped from 127 to 389.

"When the glacier gets close, its wave intensity increases threefold; this is a defensive posture."

Ozawa switched scenes: Takahiro Omuro's scalpel clattered onto the stainless steel tray. At the same moment, the energy curve swayed slightly before returning to stability.

"When the scalpel was knocked away by the tail chamber, it simply checked that there was no danger and immediately relaxed its guard. I stimulated it with electromagnetic waves in segments. It actively absorbed the low frequencies and generated a repulsive force field with the high frequencies—it can observe, judge, and adjust its response according to external stimuli."

She turned to look at the two of them and said, word by word, "This is not just simple energy. It has self-awareness."

Bingchuan Cheng frowned, staring intently at the fluctuating curves on the screen, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the gun handle at his waist: "This is impossible. Energy is a physical phenomenon, not life."

"It is alive."

Lin Chen stood in the shadows and uttered only three words. His voice was deep and clear, like a stone thrown into calm water.

Just then—

"Beep—!!!"

Suddenly, all the instruments in the lab emitted a piercing beeping sound simultaneously. The displays turned blood red in an instant, and the alarm lights spun wildly on the ceiling. A blast of scalding hot air blew out of the air conditioner vents, and the temperature soared five degrees Celsius in three seconds.

"What's going on?!"

Sumiko Ozawa lunged at the control panel, her fingers flying across the keyboard in a blur. A dense array of error messages popped up on the screen, the entire interface covered in red "ERROR": "System crash! All sensors offline!"

Three seconds later, everything came to an abrupt halt. The buzzing stopped, the alarm went out, and the air conditioner resumed blowing cold air. The laboratory fell into a deathly silence.

On the big screen, the originally pulsating green waveform turned into a cold, straight line.

Value: 0.

Sumiko Ozawa slammed her hand on the keyboard, cursed "Damn it," then squatted down, disassembled the testing equipment, replaced the sensor, and restarted the main unit. The screen remained permanently displaying that same straight line.

“Completely gone.” She stood up and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “No energy leakage, no spatial fluctuations, no trace of anything left.”

She paused, glancing at the data in the corner of the screen: "However, I just scanned the energy background of Tokyo and found an extremely faint layer of golden radiation, evenly covering the entire city. The signal was so weak that I initially thought it was cosmic ray interference."

Lin Chen's pupils suddenly contracted.

He stared at the straight line, then glanced at Ashihara Ryo's body covered with a white sheet on the autopsy table. A terrifying possibility slowly surfaced in his mind.

"The body will be handed over to the Metropolitan Police Department's forensic center first thing tomorrow morning," Ozawa added, his voice tinged with weariness. "We can no longer contact the Ashihara family."

...

The setting sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the corridor, bathing the cold metal space in a warm golden-red hue. Long shadows stretched across the floor. The base was unusually quiet, save for the rustling sound of Takahiro Omuro organizing files in the distant archives.

Bingchuan Cheng leaned against the wall, looking at Lin Chen's solemn profile, and asked in a low voice, "Where did the power of light go? It didn't disappear, did it?"

Lin Chen nodded, his gaze falling on the setting sun gradually sinking outside the window.

“It’s gone.” His voice was soft, yet carried immense weight. “It’s gone into the people of Tokyo.”

Hikawa Makoto's eyes widened suddenly: "Everyone?"

"Who knows?" Lin Chen shook his head.

"Why scatter?" Hikawa Makoto still didn't understand the purpose of the light's power.

Lin Chen said calmly, "It's just fear of death, like everything else that's alive."

The two fell silent. After a moment, Lin Chen made the first move. He turned and walked away, casually saying:

"Let's go."

Bingchuan Cheng paused for a moment, then quickly followed.

...

Sato's noodle shop was packed with customers. The heater was burning brightly, its orange flames dancing in the firebox. Milky white pork bone broth bubbled and simmered in the pot, its aroma filling the entire shop. A television hung on the wall, playing the midday news, the anchorwoman's voice gentle and sweet.

Sato Yuki sat at a small table next to the counter doing her homework, clutching a colored pencil in her hand. Every now and then, she would steal a glance at Lin Chen, who was serving noodles, and then quickly doodle a couple of lines on her drawing paper.

The bespectacled office worker at the next table pushed up his glasses and yawned: "Hey, did you sleep really soundly last night? I slept until dawn, without even hearing my alarm. And I had a strange dream, I vaguely saw a golden light, it was really warm."

"What a coincidence! Me too!" Another office worker scratched his head. "I felt much more relaxed after waking up."

Yuko Nakamura had just finished her night shift, her face a little pale. Holding a cup of hot barley tea, she said softly, "I dreamt about it too. The golden light was so gentle, and I felt all the sadness in my heart disappear. When I woke up, my pillow was a little wet, and I don't know why I cried."

"Brother Chen! Brother Chen!"

Sato Yuki, holding up her drawing paper, ran over with her short legs, tilting her little face up, her eyes sparkling: "I dreamed of golden light too! There was a very, very tall older brother in it, and he smiled at me! Look, I drew him!"

Lin Chen took the drawing paper.

The painting depicts a white figure radiating golden light, standing beneath a clear blue sky. A blurry, dazzling golden light emanates from its chest. Beside the giant stands a little girl with pigtails, holding a piece of candy and smiling brightly.

Lin Chen's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

He glanced up at everyone in the shop. Genji Sato was tossing food in the wok, his movements as practiced as ever; Yuko Nakamura held a cup of barley tea, her eyes somewhat vacant; everyone else was doing their own thing. Everyone looked exactly the same as always.

He walked to the entrance of the noodle shop and looked up at the sky. The sun was shining brightly, the streets were bustling with pedestrians, and children were chasing and playing on the roadside; everything was peaceful and beautiful.

But he had a strong feeling that the world had completely changed.

Just then, the midday news on TV was suddenly interrupted.

The female news anchor's expression turned serious, and her voice became urgent: "I have an urgent message to share. This morning, dozens of citizens across the city reported symptoms such as abnormal fever, muscle aches, dizziness, and weakness. Emergency rooms at major hospitals have seen a surge in patients. The cause is currently unknown. The health department has activated its emergency response plan. Experts remind the public not to panic and to seek medical attention promptly if they experience any discomfort."

The television screen switched to the hospital's emergency room, where the corridor was crowded with people, nurses rushed by pushing hospital beds, and doctors were extremely busy.

Lin Chen's expression turned extremely ugly.

Chapter 79 The Silent Funeral

A week after Ashihara Ryo's body was discovered.

A cold autumn rain swept across the cemeteries along Tokyo Bay. Lead-gray clouds hung low, and the sea breeze, carrying a salty stench, swirled through the bare pines and cypresses. There was no funeral music, no wreaths, and hardly anyone was there to pay their respects.

Although they had never interacted with Ashihara Ryo, the G3 team still respected him.

Four cemetery workers in black raincoats carried a simple black coffin down the gentle slope. The coffin, devoid of any decoration, slowly sank into the grave. Shovelfuls of soil, softened by the rain, fell with muffled thuds echoing through the empty cemetery.

Sumiko Ozawa stood in the front row, her black trench coat collar turned up high, clutching a briefcase tightly in her arms—Ryo Ashihara's diary was locked inside, the only evidence recording the truth about the Dawn.

Bingchuan Cheng stood beside her, dressed in a well-fitting black mourning suit, his posture as straight as a javelin. His hands were clasped behind his back, his knuckles white from clenching his fists. Rain streamed down his chin as he stared intently at the coffin slowly being buried by the earth, the heaviness in his eyes hidden in silence.

Takahiro Omuro huddled behind Ozawa, keeping his head down the entire time.

Lin Chen leaned against a bare pine tree in the corner of the cemetery, his coat soaked through by the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. He looked down at the swimming champion medal in his palm, the coolness of the metal seeping through his hand.

This lone warrior, who transformed into Gills and fought the Unknown to the very end, didn't even deserve a proper funeral.

The last shovelful of soil fell. A blue stone tombstone stood in the same spot, with only three characters engraved on it—Reihara Ryo.