Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week

From 5:40 AM to 6:00 AM, Aozawa confirmed that the duration of Will-o'-the-wisp's Different Space was significantly related to the presence of an audience. As long as there were spectators, the world of Will-o'-the-wisp could last all night, or even longer. Without them, its duration would be very short.

Having reached this conclusion, he no longer needed these U.S. Army soldiers.

Aozawa looked at the scene before him, feeling a surge of exhilaration as well as a strong desire for destruction. When he controlled a character, he would lose all-encompassing perception of the Different Space. This isolated perspective was nothing special when controlling Griffith, but when controlling the Second-stage Terror Emperor, this elevated viewpoint was absolutely exhilarating.

He lifted his foot, and the air immediately exploded with a tearing roar. Upon landing, the impact generated a violent sonic boom as the ground shook and dust billowed up. Flesh sloughed off his feet, transforming into monsters. They resembled faces etched onto torsos, their long hair serving as both tentacles and limbs to support their bodies. Their mouths were large, lined with sharp teeth, and they lunged at the Mountain Tiger Marine Corps at incredible speeds.

"Form ranks!" Richard galloped on his horse, bellowing commands, "Don't panic! Don't be afraid! Bring up the howitzers! Set up the machine guns at the front! Aim the rocket launchers at those bastards! Load cluster munitions, white phosphorus rounds, thermal bombs, and incendiary rounds! This isn't the time to be stingy with ammunition! Even if we use up all our ammo, it doesn't matter!"

He had cast aside panic and fear. At this moment, years of military training fused into his bones and soul. It filled his mind with how to face a crisis when it arrived. Do what needs to be done, then believe in the power of modern weapons. So what if it's huge? As long as it's flesh and blood, there's nothing ammunition can't kill!

Richard took command. Brigadier General Sammy, who had been posturing toughly moments before, turned pale. Faced with that immense figure, the brigadier general's will to survive crumbled. Although he was known as a hardline hawk who feared no war, when he confronted its true brutality, he realized he had grossly underestimated it. Unlike before, he was not in the safety of a combat command center, but on the front line. The massive, despair-inducing monster stood before him; he was going to die. They had no hope of survival. This cruel reality made Sammy's limbs grow cold, and he stood frozen in place, dumbfounded. Forget about commanding troops; he didn't even have the courage to resist with a gun. He didn't desert only because his legs were too weak to run.

A horde of monsters closed in.

The Vulcan Machine Gun spun up with a high-pitched WHINE, its barrels unleashing a deafening ROAR. They rotated so fast it seemed they were spewing invisible gusts of wind rather than bullets. By the time the sound reached human ears, bullets had already shredded the advancing monsters. Blood splattered. Some of the monsters fell.

BOOM! BOOM! Twenty howitzers fired in unison, shockwaves visibly rolling outward from their barrels. Cluster munitions rained down among the monsters. Upon detonation, white plumes of smoke erupted, and flesh blossomed across the ground like night-blooming cereus flowers.

Aozawa looked down at this scene, finding that the monsters had difficulty breaking through the firepower net formed by the American troops. Unless they possessed strange attributes like undeath or incredibly tough hides, mere flesh and blood couldn't withstand a barrage from modern weaponry.

During his contemplation, hundreds of thermal bombs had already struck his thigh. It felt like hairs naturally falling off, causing not the slightest pain. Aozawa felt no impact from the attacks. He lifted his foot and took a huge step forward. A deafening CRACK exploded through the air, and fierce winds erupted. The incoming white phosphorus rounds detonated prematurely upon encountering the almost tangible gale. A spectacular rain of fire sprinkled down prematurely from the sky.

The intense visual effects caused Sammy to collapse onto the ground, yelling, "No way, humans can't defeat that kind of monster! Shells won't work! We are all going to die! We are all dying! Hahaha!"

"Shut up!" Infuriated, Richard drew his pistol, pulled the trigger, and shot Sammy dead. "Anyone else who undermines morale will be executed!" he roared. "Focus all firepower!"

At this moment, forget his superiors; even if the President himself stood before him daring to disrupt morale, I would execute him without hesitation.

"We can't escape! Fire all the ammo you have, don't hold back a single round!" Richard roared.

The Mountain Tiger unit demonstrated the quality befitting an ace unit of The Seventh Fleet Marine Corps. No one fled. All followed Richard's orders, mercilessly unleashing their ammunition at the targets before them. The swarming horde of monsters vanished amidst the frenzied barrage, falling before they even crossed the hundred-meter mark. Carcasses littered the ground, along with the lingering burn marks from white phosphorus. Gunsmoke filled the air, and blood pooled into rivers.

But no one's face showed a hint of joy. The primary target was still unscathed.

Richard swallowed hard. The ground beneath their feet trembled violently. Their warhorses lost the strength to run, collapsing to their knees, shivering. The wind howled, sharp and piercing. Sunlight vanished from above the Mountain Tiger unit. They had entered the shadow cast upon the earth by the Demon God; it was as if time had leaped forward into night.

Or rather, this was Kusha's night. Richard strained to relax, fixing his gaze on the figure of Emperor Kusha ahead. What a twisted physique. If it were shrunk to normal human size, it would undoubtedly be considered utterly hideous. Yet, at such a colossal scale, those distortions possessed a kind of breathtaking, terrifying beauty.

"Fire, don't stop!" Richard yelled, personally taking over the firing of a howitzer.

BOOM! A shockwave erupted from the ground, snapping the other dazed soldiers back to their senses. They resumed bombarding the enemy before them with a dense barrage of fire. They used every type of ammunition available, even poison gas bombs. Flames, explosions, shockwaves, toxic gases—everything. All of this seemed utterly insignificant against those monstrously thick thighs.

Aozawa halted his advance.

"Did it... did it work?" David gasped for breath, his tone containing a hint of hope that their frenzied bombardment had caused Emperor Kusha pain.

Looking up, Richard's face showed despair for the first time, saying, "I don't think so."

High above, at an immeasurable altitude, countless faces on the Emperor's body opened their mouths, a shimmering light brewing within each. The next second, torrents of intense flame erupted, scattering in the air like a radiant meteor shower, or a swarm of meteorites plummeting to earth.

"It's no use; our power can't defeat such a monster," Richard murmured, not even bothering to shout for cover; there was nowhere to hide from such a widespread attack.

A firestorm rained from the sky. Each blazing projectile slammed into the ground, its intense heat instantly incinerating human bodies to ash. BOOM! Unspent ammunition caches detonated, exploding like spectacular fireworks across the battlefield.

Aozawa looked down upon this scene. After all the secondary explosions faded, the land was charred black, devoid of any human presence. A thousand men were annihilated in an instant.

Simultaneously, Aozawa noticed that the effects of Will-o'-the-wisp were beginning to wane. Darkness crept in from the horizon, encroaching upon the area. His gaze swept across the land and mountains. He opened his mouth again, spewing forth more fire, trying to destroy everything before Will-o'-the-wisp completely faded. Glorious pillars of fire erupted everywhere, their subsequent detonations quickly swallowed by the encroaching darkness. The entire Different Space was collapsing.

BEEP. The interference on the radar display vanished.

「Outside Abashiri Prison.」

Jack looked at the now-clear radar screen, then glanced at the prison entrance, his expression darkening. He knew what this meant. Mountain Tiger was a much larger force than the special task force, numbering a full thousand men. If they were returning, it wouldn't be this eerily silent.

Jack entered the gate of Abashiri Prison, where the air was silent. He then walked into the cell block. The semi-transparent film that had covered the cell doors was gone, and his mobile phone had a signal.

With a heavy heart, Jack dialed Director John's number. "Director John," he said gravely, "the interference signal at Abashiri Prison has disappeared. Brigadier General Sammy and his men haven't shown up; they must have perished in the Different Space."

"Jack, watch your words," John interjected. "Mountain Tiger is an elite ace unit of the Marine Corps. They couldn't be so easily wiped out by the enemy. They're definitely still in the Different World. It's just that, due to some unforeseen incident, they're currently unable to return. They haven't been killed in action; they've merely lost contact with us temporarily. Perhaps they will reappear during the next overlap between the Different World and reality."

John's correction ignited a spark of helpless anger in Jack. He could only respond, "My apologies for the misstatement, Director John." As he spoke these words, Jack felt a part of him break off.

He knew perfectly well that John's reluctance to acknowledge the deaths of the Mountain Tiger Marines wasn't born from any sense of hope. It was purely because deceased U.S. Army personnel were entitled to very high compensation. Among the higher-ups in the government, there was an unspoken consensus. Unless a body was recovered, or death was immediate and occurred during active combat, personnel weren't classified as Killed In Action. Instead, they were listed as Missing In Action or dead due to non-combat related causes. For instance, if U.S. soldiers at a base were hit by a surprise rocket attack from insurgents in the Middle East, and several were critically wounded, as long as medics got them onto stretchers before they drew their last breath...they wouldn't be counted as KIA, and their families wouldn't receive the death gratuity. Mountain Tiger's situation wouldn't be classified as KIA; they would be treated as MIA. Naturally, their families wouldn't receive the death gratuity.

Jack felt a surge of grief and anger at this reality, but he was powerless. The higher-ups simply played by their own cynical rules.

But why couldn't the elite Marine Corps aces return safely like the special task force had? This question flickered through Jack's mind, baffling him. Then, a thought occurred: if foreign military forces suddenly appeared in one's own country, most people would hardly roll out the welcome mat. Indeed, launching a large-scale invasion of the Different World is not feasible. He decided he would suggest to his superiors that they should only send in small teams to avoid further casualties.