Chapter 101: They're Here! They're Here!

Tokyo Air Force Headquarters, Command and Control Room.

Commander Okamura, a non-commissioned officer, and a gate communications attendant—three men inside the room—all held their breath in tense silence, absurdly trying to fool the enemy by not even daring to exhale.

In this suffocating atmosphere, footsteps echoed louder and clearer down the corridor, each step pounding heavily on their hearts.

“Tap, tap…”

The footsteps stopped outside the door. Then a tall, dark crimson figure swept into view, and the instant it appeared, the room instantly filled with an overwhelming aura of murderous intent and bloodlust.

Commander Okamura had earned his honored military position through countless battles, crawling out of heaps of corpses time and again.

Yet now, he drew a sharp breath, his hair standing on end, and involuntarily backed against the wall, desperately suppressing the urge to flee at all costs.

The enemy standing at the doorway could not simply be described as “human”—it was a humanoid monster!

Its crimson, narrow eyes were cold and merciless; its tough, dark chitinous skin was stained with fresh blood; its perfectly sculpted muscular form radiated a dangerous wildness and power. Clenched fists bore claws as sharp and dark as a wolf’s.

This humanoid monster slowly stepped inside, exuding an aura of killing and savage beauty that extinguished any thought of resistance.

Like a small bird facing a hawk—the gap between them was several biological tiers of the food chain.

“Just as I thought, you’re here.” The demon-like humanoid smiled widely, its hoarse voice speaking fluent Japanese, crimson eyes fixed on Commander Okamura inside the room.

Okamura gasped in shock, his breath coming in short bursts. Supporting himself on the desk to mask his trembling legs, he asked in horror, “Wh-what kind of monster are you?!”

“Commander, weren’t you the one who sent seven fighters to kill me?” The humanoid smiled humanly, retracting from its venom-covered integrated form to reveal the handsome face of a young man.

His resilient chitinous membrane, once flowing with black liquid, now transformed into a sleek black night suit.

“It’s you… Kyle from the American Empire.” Commander Okamura stared in disbelief at Kyle, who had returned to his normal form and attire.

Several hours earlier, officials and military leaders in Japan had actively debated and agreed to launch an interception by the air force as the target entered Tokyo’s airspace, aiming to deal a heavy blow to the American Empire’s arrogance.

Yet now, seven Shiden fighters had failed to eliminate the enemy. Worse, the enemy had come directly to them and forcibly breached the Air Force Headquarters…

Okamura forced himself to accept this horrifying reality, trembling all over, speechless.

This was utterly unreasonable!

Unfortunately, Germany, which had withdrawn from the WWII battlefield, had no time to warn Japan: “Beware of Kyle.”

Because Kyle was precisely such a person—unreasonable when it came to fighting, never backing down from a direct confrontation. His very existence epitomized the word “powerful.”

Seven Shiden fighters could not defeat him; they would all be dismantled and destroyed.

Stronger than the weapons of the Hydra Base Factory, with far more soldiers stationed at the German military base, all were conquered by Kyle on his campaign. How could the Japanese Air Force Headquarters possibly hold him back?

With superhuman strength twelve times that of an ordinary human, hundreds of combat techniques, venomous skin for defense, and specialized weaponry, ordinary soldiers were fragile and weak before Kyle!

No matter how fiercely the Japanese soldiers resisted, fearless of death, they were nothing but chickens before a wolf, utterly helpless.

“Commander,” Kyle said coldly, his eyes fixed on Okamura with a profound meaning, “I wanted to see for myself this so-called ‘Bushido’ spirit you claim to uphold, so I came as invited.”

Okamura’s face darkened with anger and shock, but soon he sighed heavily. From the wall hung with the Rising Sun flag, he took down a masterfully crafted steel katana.

The non-commissioned officer and the communicator bowed their heads low, not daring to speak.

Under Kyle’s intimidating, piercing gaze, Okamura sat down weakly on the floor, gripping the gleaming katana behind his back. Gritting his teeth, he plunged the blade fiercely into his own abdomen.

He groaned in pain, rolling over and collapsing, blood gushing from the wound like a spring.

In Okamura’s eyes, having provoked an enemy beyond reckoning and seeing the Tokyo Air Force Base fall was an unforgivable failure. Dying by seppuku, in accordance with Bushido, was an honorable sacrifice.

Kyle’s expression remained indifferent as he looked down on the bleeding commander like an ant whose humble life had ended.

Japan—somewhat similar to a country from his previous life’s world—had one particularly distasteful trait: their arrogant pride and self-righteous worship of Bushido.

Kyle thought, since he had come this far, it was only fitting to teach Japan a lesson about what true invincible strength really meant!

“I will not kill you.” Kyle glanced at the non-commissioned officer and the communicator on the floor, issuing a command: “Take the commander’s body away and tell your Emperor that soon, I will ‘visit’ him personally!”

Relieved, the two men quickly approached, each carrying one of Okamura’s limbs, and swiftly exited the office.

“Oh, and take this with you.” Kyle suddenly remembered something, waving his hand as a card firmly pinned itself to the commander’s chest. The back of the card bore a black image of a demon grinning menacingly.

It was neither the American Empire’s emblem nor any military insignia—just a demon card representing Kyle’s own stance!

He alone would shake and pressure all of Japan. This was no joke but a reality soon to be recorded in history!

After the two Japanese soldiers left with the body, Kyle departed from the commander’s office. Outside, the base was engulfed in flames, countless buildings burning fiercely.

The raging fires were spreading toward the command building within the base.

Across the broad grounds, the bodies and remains of countless soldiers were consumed by the tongues of fire. Blood and flames reflected each other, turning the night sky a brutal, blazing red.

The Air Force Headquarters looked as if it had been baptized by disaster and war, a scene of utter devastation.

The Soviets had once said something fitting about Kyle: “Wherever he goes, war, disaster, and death follow; he is the Apostle of Hell, the embodiment of a demon, and a hero in the eyes of some.”

Kyle quickened his pace, dashing between the burning ruins toward the far end of the airbase—the hangar.

Many fine Japanese fighter planes were parked there, some having even reached the blue-grade echelon. It would be a shame not to take them.

Following his usual pattern, as long as he kept looting spoils on the battlefield, he would always gain more than he lost!