Chapter 184: Human Traitor Purge Plan

Luxury cars lined up outside the Naturalization Coordination Committee (abbreviated NCC) building in Uta City, as humans dressed in alien costumes—looking absurd—passed through orange-red scanning lasers and entered the heavily guarded structure.

The wanted criminal sought by the Giant He Xing had not yet been captured, but the most powerful humans in this city, to preserve their positions, were forced to hold meeting after meeting.

In the rain curtain, the luxurious buildings twisted like demonic lairs, the ticking time on tactical watches resembling a countdown to death.

In the shadows of this city, figures lay silently hidden; in the past, such crude movements would have been instantly caught by ubiquitous surveillance, but now, even with a camera directly overhead functioning normally, no alarm was raised.

"Group A is ready." The middle-aged man in black combat gear glanced at the time and spoke softly.

"Group B is in position."

"Group C is setting up sniper points."

"Group D has visually acquired the target; enemy movement matches the plan—contact expected in three minutes!"

Voices echoed in his mind; Miyajima Shinji again looked at his comrades—the forty-two-year-old former subway engineer clenched his right hand, its palm lines cracked, and the power of his faith formed a faint electromagnetic field in his palm: his ability, to disable all electronic devices, even if only once per day.

The countdown was recalibrated; as the assault team leading the frontal advance, his squad had almost no chance of survival—all participants were over forty.

Counterintuitively, the older generation within the Anti-He Xing Front were mostly middle-class or even higher elites, while the new generation were mostly from the lower classes.

The reason, naturally, was that after the Giant He Xing arrived, the lives of the lower classes had not drastically changed—in fact, under the same pressure, at least they could afford to eat.

Only the former middle class, unable to reach the threshold of becoming human traitors yet unable to endure the oppressive environment, developed rebellious thoughts; it was the younger generation, who had never known the world before the Giant He Xing's arrival, who blamed their current oppressive life on the aliens' inhumanity.

"Maybe the arrival of the aliens was also a good thing," Miyajima Shinji murmured, gazing at the distant NCC building—unbidden, yet in this moment when all were linked via tactical channel, his words instantly spread through the squad.

"What nonsense are you spouting?" came Shibata's voice from Group B, tasked with cover—sharp with anger, as if warning Miyajima not to lower morale now.

"I think I understand what Brother Miyajima means!" Another voice spoke—it was Toyokawa from Group D, assigned to draw attention; before others could respond, he continued:

"Back then, all those big conglomerates, powerful families, political dynasties—they've all become human traitors. The young people who never saw old Japan now blame everything on the aliens and the Americans. If we could really drive the aliens away, they wouldn't repeat the same mistakes. A reborn Japan from the ruins might be much better than before."

At these words, many who had wanted to argue fell silent; compared to the unworldly lower classes, they were the educated ones, naturally aware of class rigidity and social contradictions—but before the aliens came, they themselves had been among the beneficiaries who had "made it," so they never considered change.

Now, forced back to the lower classes, they had, through constant resistance, come to rediscover this world (Note ①).

"Rebuild? I doubt it. With how those politicians operate, even if the aliens truly ran, they'd surely reclaim power under excuses like 'enduring humiliation' or 'bearing the blame for the survival of more citizens.'"

A member of Group C, who had finally found their observation point, countered—precisely because he had once been elite, he knew better than anyone the logic of those in power.

Yet hearing this, Miyajima laughed:

"Isn't that exactly the problem we're here to solve?"

"Oh right!" Shibata realized belatedly, then sighed:

"Come to think of it, this mission has meaning beyond just cover!"

"We've lived long enough—kill one more, and the path for the young gets easier! I don't want my granddaughter growing up in this hellhole!" Toyokawa glanced at the countdown, his gaze fixed on the patrol squad re-entering view, and a grim smile spread across his face.

"Captain, that's a total flag!" teased a Group D member; Toyokawa rolled his eyes:

"I signed up for this mission knowing I wouldn't live! I've had enough of this shitty life!"

"Exactly! Everyone who signed up for this damn mission doesn't expect to come back alive, right?"

Though these were words announcing imminent death, the channel erupted in laughter—but then, a sweet voice suddenly entered everyone's ears:

"I admire your willingness to face death, but don't give up so easily! I'll guide you to survive—then, when that time comes, try hard to find hope!"

"Better yet, Goddess, guide us to complete the mission!" Shibata watched the countdown reach its final minute, checking his weapon one last time; in his mind, a private reply from Kozu rang out:

"Of course—but you must also care for yourself."

Hearing that gentle voice, the old man Shibata suddenly felt like crying; he pulled himself together and forced a grim smile: "If the Goddess asks, then I'll try."

Not just Shibata—nearly simultaneously, every member of this mission received personalized advice from Kozu tailored to their personality; words that should have sapped morale somehow inexplicably boosted the spirit of this squad, meant to charge with a death wish.

"Then, comrades—may fortune favor the bold!"

Watching the countdown hit zero, Toyokawa stared at the patrol squad now within arm's reach and delivered his final declaration.

The entire squad fell silent, save for muffled heartbeats growing frantic; in Toyokawa's mind, dotted lines formed, mapping every movement of the target—the active cameras and detection systems blazed with glaring clarity.

In that slowed time, the patrol squad finally arrived—three meters from the alley mouth—the visual scene and the mental overlay of projected shadows merged in an instant!

Now!

Without Kozu's command, the five members of Group D surged forward simultaneously; piercing sonic waves shattered the air, leaving the patrol squad momentarily stunned—half of the ten-man security force fell instantly.

"Boom!" A flare shot into the sky the instant the attack began—but Group D made no effort to stop it; as the silent night suddenly erupted in noise, a series of soft clicks rendered nearly all surveillance systems inoperable.

Group C methodically disabled cameras one by one; precise sniper fire misled enemies about the mission's true objective—the patrol's flare and the expanding blind spots of surveillance drew nearby security forces toward them, leaving only a few guards equipped with alien gear unmoved at their posts.

Now!

(End of Chapter)