As a weirdo, I like being a Kamen Rider

Hikawa Makoto and Hojo Toru exchanged a glance, nodded, and turned to walk towards the base entrance.

Hojo Toru leaned against the wall, quickly checking his rifle magazine. His knuckles turned white, and his brows furrowed. "These people have completely lost control. On the way here, three Awakened individuals clashed with the police, and one of them was seriously injured. Now everyone's eyes are bloodshot."

The base's titanium alloy doors could withstand direct rocket fire, its outer energy barrier could deflect most physical attacks, and dozens of automatic tranquilizer guns were hidden in the walls. But against these people driven to desperation by the truth, even the strongest defenses were futile—they had no guns, only anger and despair.

"Don't be careless." Hikawa Makoto's voice came through the helmet. "They are not enemies, just ordinary people who have been betrayed like us."

No sooner had he finished speaking than deafening shouts erupted outside.

"Hand over Murakami!"

"The Metropolitan Police Department is the murderer!"

"Give us back our loved ones!"

Stones slammed into the alloy door with a dull thud. Debris rained down, and several awakened individuals began to attack with their abilities, but to no avail.

Toru Hojo took a deep breath, turned on the external loudspeaker, and said in a deep and powerful voice: "I am Toru Hojo from the First Investigative Division of the Metropolitan Police Department. I swear on my badge that we are not in league with those beasts."

The commotion outside subsided. A tall man whose arms had turned to rock stepped forward and slammed his fist into the barrier: "Why should we believe you! The Metropolitan Police Department has been lying to us for a whole year!"

"Yes! We don't believe it!"

"Break down the door!"

The crowd erupted again. Hikawa Makoto pressed the communicator: "Captain Ozawa, they want to see Kurago Genhide to see the evidence with their own eyes."

After a moment of silence on the other end of the communicator, Sumiko Ozawa's voice came through: "Oe Room, put the experimental records, approval documents, and victim list onto the outer wall."

"Understood." Omuro's voice trembled as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

"Hikawa, Hojo, tell them we're willing to let five unarmed representatives in to confront Kurago Genhide face-to-face. The rest of you stay put. The dialogue and evidence will be played simultaneously on the big screen. The defense system has switched to non-lethal mode; we won't fire a single shot unless they attack."

"It's too dangerous." Hojo Toru straightened up. "What if they infiltrate the cleanup team, or someone loses control and attacks?"

“What they want is the truth, not war.” Ozawa’s voice was calm and unquestionable. “They don’t even have the courage to open the door. What’s the difference between them and the cowards in the underground command center? Hikawa will guard the first door and check the representatives’ belongings; Hojo will guard the second door with two special police officers and seal it off immediately if anything happens; Lin Chen will be on standby at the entrance to the main control room to prevent any special situations; Omuro will be ready to close the door at any time.”

"Understood." Lin Chen's voice was crisp and clear.

Hojo Toru wanted to say something, but seeing Hikawa Makoto turn and walk towards the door switch, he finally sighed and pulled the safety bolt.

The alloy door slowly opened, emitting a heavy metallic scraping sound, revealing a gap just wide enough for one person to pass through. Silence fell instantly outside. The large screen on the exterior wall lit up, displaying horrifying experimental photos, chilling death records, and bright red signatures and seals from high-ranking officials, striking heavily on everyone's hearts.

Hikawa Makoto stood inside the door, his voice coming through the loudspeaker, solemn and calm: "Captain Ozawa has permitted you to send in five unarmed representatives. The rest of you, please remain where you are. You will see the whole truth. We will not harm anyone, and please give us a chance to explain."

A stir ran through the crowd. The man with the rock-armed arm and four other more respected Awakened exchanged glances, lowered their weapons, dusted themselves off, and cautiously entered the base.

The main control room's large screen scrolled through core experimental data. Recruitment lists, injection records, high-level approvals, and the flow of hundreds of millions of yuan—every page was irrefutable evidence.

Kuroko Genshu sat in the chair in front of the screen, having removed his mask to reveal a pale and haggard face. His neck bore gruesome scars from the endotracheal tube, his knuckles were calloused, and his skin was an unnatural bluish-gray—heavy metal poisoning from long-term injections of red medication.

The five representatives stood before the screen, their faces growing increasingly grim. Upon seeing the photo of the experimental subject labeled "Failure, Destroy," a woman in a black coat covered her mouth and broke down in tears. Her brother had disappeared a year ago; she had searched for him for an entire year, posting countless missing person notices, never expecting to see his photo here, along with those cold, hard words.

"Is this all true?" The man with the rocky arm asked in a hoarse voice, his body trembling slightly, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

“It’s true.” Canggu Yuanxiu looked up and abruptly rolled up his sleeves. His arm was covered with countless needle marks, and in several places the skin had begun to ulcerate, revealing pink muscle.

“They were injected with that red drug every day, three injections a day. Most of them died in agony, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Their bodies were thrown into the incinerator, and not even ashes were left. The survivors were sent on dangerous missions, and no one knew when they died; not even their names were left.”

His tears finally streamed down his face: "The day I ran away, I watched my roommate die from convulsions due to the side effects of the medication. He was only nineteen years old, and all he wanted was to earn money to treat his mother's illness... Why treat us like guinea pigs!"

The five representatives fell silent. Looking at the scars on Kurago Genshu's arm and the cold words on the screen, their anger gradually faded, replaced by deep remorse.

“I’m sorry.” The man with the rocky arms lowered his head. “We misunderstood you. We thought everyone in uniform was a bad guy.”

“It’s alright.” Sumiko Ozawa stood beside her, her eyes devoid of blame. “We only learned the whole truth yesterday. The Metropolitan Police Department’s top brass have gone into the underground command center. They’ve dispatched a cleanup team to destroy all evidence and kill everyone who knows the truth.”

She paused, then said, "We have uploaded all the key information to the internet. We will continue the investigation until all those involved are brought to court. But we need your help now; a few of us cannot fight against the entire Metropolitan Police Department leadership."

Omuro suddenly said, "Captain Ozawa, the people outside have quieted down."

Outside the window, the crowd looked up silently at the large screen on the exterior wall. No one shouted anymore, no one attacked anymore; everyone was silent, their faces filled with shock and sorrow. Some wept softly, some supported each other, and some bowed deeply to the screen.

Several agitated young people tried to rush up and bang on the door, but the man with the rocky arm stopped them, shouting, "Stop! They're good people! They're helping us get justice! Smashing this place will only make the real culprit laugh at us!"

The five representatives looked at each other, and the woman with red, tear-filled eyes wiped away her tears: "We will tell them the truth and help them calm down. Violence will not solve the problem."

"Thank you." Ozawa nodded. "If you'd like, stay and fight alongside us."

Half an hour later, the Awakened Ones and the general public gathered outside the base gradually dispersed. Some stayed behind to maintain order, while others went home to inform more people. A dozen or so young Awakened Ones immediately signed up to join the temporary team. This conflict, which had been on the verge of erupting, ended in reconciliation.

But no one felt relieved. Ozawa looked out the window at the empty streets, his expression grave. This was just the beginning. The Metropolitan Police Department leadership wouldn't let this go easily, and the Awakened Ones scattered throughout the city were about to face unprecedented challenges.

Chapter 84 The Duality of Human Nature

The rising sun pierced through the haze over Tokyo, but it couldn't illuminate the rubble and congealed bloodstains piled up on the streets.

Seventy-two hours have passed since Genshu Kurago exposed the truth about human experimentation to the world.

Over these three days, the social order of the Japanese archipelago collapsed completely at a visible speed, like a paper structure torn apart by a gale.

The Metropolitan Police Department's badge was trampled into the mud by angry citizens, and every carefully worded statement from the government only attracted more and more angry shouts and protests.

Countless people took to the streets, demanding the public trial of all those involved in the case. Those who unexpectedly awakened superpowers in the aftermath of the experiment became the sharpest and most uncontrollable blades in this chaos.

Those who gained power went down two completely opposite paths.

Some choose to be candles in the darkness.

Yuko Nakamura, 24, is an emergency room nurse at Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital. She awakens her healing abilities on the second day after the chaos erupts.

From that moment on, she never stepped out of the hospital again. Her hands could soothe almost any external wound and even barely slow down the progression of internal organ failure, but every time her abilities were activated, her body would become a little more transparent.

At this moment, her hands were almost completely transparent, as thin as a cicada's wing, with blue veins and white finger bones clearly visible under her skin.

"Nurse Nakamura! Please save my child!" A mother covered in blood, holding a barely breathing boy in her arms, knelt down in front of her with a thud, her forehead hitting the cold cement floor hard, leaving a bloody red mark.

Yuko Nakamura didn't speak, but simply bent down slightly and gently placed her transparent hands on the boy's gruesome wound on his abdomen.

A soft white light flowed from her palm, and the previously turned-out skin visibly closed and healed. A few minutes later, the boy stopped groaning in pain, his eyelashes fluttered, and he fell into a deep sleep.

"Thank you! Thank you!" The mother sobbed uncontrollably, kowtowing repeatedly.

Yuko Nakamura shook her head, swayed, and leaned wearily against the wall behind her, her vision blurring.

The nurse next to her quickly reached out to support her, her voice filled with anxiety: "Nakamura! You need to rest! You've been working for thirty-six hours straight. If you keep going like this, you'll lose control of your abilities!"

"It's alright." She forced a pale smile, her voice very soft. "There are still many people waiting for me." After saying that, she pushed away her colleague's hand and turned to walk towards the next ward, which was crowded with wounded patients.

Kenta Tanaka, an ordinary deliveryman.

When chaos ensued, he awakened extraordinary strength, easily lifting a fully loaded heavy truck with just one hand.

Unlike others who stayed indoors and sought only to protect themselves, he drove his old truck, marked with faded delivery logos, weaving through the broken streets of Tokyo.

Braving gunfire and danger, he delivered food, medicine, and fresh water to survivors in various locations, repeatedly venturing into the fire-bound areas to safely evacuate trapped civilians.

The old truck was covered with countless scratches and glaring bullet holes. Each mark was a testament to his honor in escaping death from thugs and looters and saving lives.

"Mr. Tanaka, thank you so much! Without you, we would probably have collapsed a long time ago."

An elderly man with white hair accepted the bread and bottled water, his cloudy eyes welling up with tears.

"You are welcome."

Kenta Tanaka scratched his head, a simple, honest smile on his face.

"I still have several supplies to deliver, so I'll take my leave now."

He turned and jumped into the driver's seat, starting the engine. The back of the truck was piled high with all sorts of supplies, and in the corner huddled a little girl, clutching an orange kitten tightly in her arms. He had risked his life to rescue her from a burning apartment building half an hour earlier.

Others, however, turned their superpowers into weapons.

They looted supermarkets and banks, bullied women and children, and proclaimed themselves gods of the new world, believing that power was the passport to do whatever they wanted.

Gunfire, explosions, and cries echoed day and night. The once-international metropolis was reduced to a blood-soaked inferno.

Lin Chen and his G3 team tirelessly patrolled the streets, stopping out-of-control superpowered individuals. But they numbered only three hundred, while the number of awakened individuals in Tokyo had exceeded ten thousand. Their efforts were futile; every day they walked a tightrope.

Hikawa Makoto's G3-X armor has undergone countless disassembly and repairs. Its silver-gray shell is covered with scratches and dents left from battles, and many places still have dried bloodstains.

Hojo Toru's police uniform was already tattered and torn, and a deep wound on his left arm, revealing bone, was conspicuously visible. It was caused three days ago by a superhuman who wielded a sharp blade, and it had not yet healed.

Takahiro Omuro remained stationed in the main control room day and night, monitoring the energy fluctuation signals of the entire city and providing real-time intelligence to the frontline team. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had not closed them for four whole days.

Sumiko Ozawa took full charge of the daily operations of the G3 base. She transformed the original training base into a temporary shelter, taking in more than two hundred elderly people, women and children who had no ability to protect themselves, as well as dozens of law-abiding awakeners like Yuko Nakamura and Kenta Tanaka, who upheld their original intentions and protected the world.

The base was running out of supplies, with food and medicine lasting only a week, and manpower was also extremely scarce. Yet she never uttered a single complaint, remaining calm and composed, and methodically coordinating all affairs.

That afternoon, Lin Chen and Hikawa Makoto were patrolling Shinjuku. They had just stopped a robbery targeting a convenience store and arrested three superhumans who were committing the crimes. They were preparing to return to base to replenish their ammunition.

Just then, the communicator on Lin Chen's waist suddenly beeped urgently. Takahiro Omuro's voice came through, filled with barely concealed anger and anxiety: "Lin Chen! Hikawa! Emergency! The Third Orphanage in Nerima Ward has been attacked! Three psychics are robbing it and have injured several teachers and children!"

"We're coming right away!" Lin Chen's eyes instantly turned as cold as knives.

The two immediately jumped onto the G3-X motorcycle, the engine roaring deafeningly, the tires screeching as it sped off towards Nerima Ward. Along the way, they saw that most of the buildings on both sides of the street were burned down, leaving only charred frames; abandoned cars and unburied corpses littered the roadside. The air was thick with the nauseating stench of gunpowder and blood.

A dozen minutes later, they arrived at their destination. From afar, they could see the three-story orphanage burning fiercely, billowing black smoke like a black dragon shooting straight into the sky. In the courtyard, three superhumans dressed in strange costumes were chasing and beating the unarmed teachers and children. The children's heart-wrenching cries pierced through the flames and thick smoke, piercing their eardrums.

"Stop!" Hikawa Makoto shouted, picked up the assault rifle equipped with his armor, and pulled the trigger at the superhuman closest to the children.

The bullet whistled towards its target, but was stopped by a layer of earth-yellow energy barrier the instant it touched the target's body. The earth-type superpowered individual slowly turned his head, saw Lin Chen and Bingchuan Cheng, and a ferocious smile appeared on his face: "Yo, G3 team's lackeys are here. Perfect, let's take care of them all at once, saves us the trouble of going back to find you."

The other two superpowered individuals also stopped what they were doing and slowly approached. One had orange-red flames dancing at his fingertips, while the other was surrounded by countless sharp steel fragments. Their eyes were filled with cruelty and mockery, as if they were looking at two lambs to the slaughter.

"You scum!" Hikawa Makoto's voice came through the helmet's megaphone, trembling slightly with rage. "You don't even spare children! Do you have any humanity left?"

"Child?" The earth-elemental superpower user scoffed, spitting out a mouthful of saliva. "In this new world, only the strong have the right to live. The weak are only fit to be eliminated!"

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly waved his hand, and the ground beneath his feet suddenly cracked open, with countless sharp stone spikes bursting out of the soil like the fangs of a venomous snake, fiercely stabbing towards Lin Chen and Bingchuan Cheng.

Hikawa Makoto immediately activated the thrusters on the back of his armor, launching himself into the air and dodging the fatal attack. He adjusted his posture in mid-air and fired his rifle repeatedly at the earth-type psychic. At the same time, Lin Chen drew his alloy katana from his waist, his figure flashing as he charged towards the fire-type psychic like a ghost.

The battle erupted instantly.

Just then, a thin figure suddenly rushed out of the burning building. It was a boy who looked only sixteen or seventeen years old, wearing a faded school uniform, his face covered in soot and sweat. His eyes burned with fierce anger, and his hands were also engulfed in flames.

"You're not allowed to hurt them!" the boy shouted, like an enraged little lion, and pounced on the steel-type superpowered individual without regard for anything else.

His fire abilities were weak; he could barely even light a piece of paper. Yet, he attacked like a madman, using his frail body to block a shard of steel that the steel-type psychic had shot at the children.

"Where did this brat come from!" the steel-type psychic roared, slamming a punch into the boy's chest.

The boy was sent flying like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily to the ground and spitting out a mouthful of blood. But he simply wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, gritted his teeth, struggled to get up, and charged at the steel-type superpowered individual once again.

"You're courting death!" A murderous glint flashed in the eyes of the steel-type superpowered individual. He raised his right hand, and countless sharp steel spikes gathered around him, shooting towards the boy like a rainstorm.