Chapter 98: Borrowing the Amaterasu Sword

Tsuchimikado Xia Mei is currently the only person who has come closest to the Transcendent, and as a member of the shrine, she is the heir to Atsuta Shrine—one of Japan’s three great shrines. With all these identities, she is the ideal person to contact the government and leak information; the government will believe her.

For this reason, Kamikawa Mitsu took Tsuchimikado Xia Mei away, not only to indirectly inform her that she had no spiritual power.

During their conversation, Kamikawa Mitsu mentioned that Tsuchimikado Xia Mei was a descendant of Abe no Seimei, and that by borrowing an artifact from the Tsuchimikado family, he owed her a personal favor; he then subtly steered the topic, prompting her to ask questions and thus reveal information to her.

Meanwhile.

The Tsuchimikado household.

“Borrow the Amaterasu Sword?”

Tsuchimikado Kenji’s aged face showed astonishment upon learning that Kūkai the monk wished to borrow the Amaterasu Sword.

As the head priest of Atsuta Shrine, the guardian of the Amaterasu Sword, Tsuchimikado Kenji had seen the sword. Though it was said to be one of Japan’s three legendary national treasures, said to have been extracted from the Yamata no Orochi, he did not believe it for a moment.

Even now, with the Transcendent emerging and demons appearing, he still did not believe the Amaterasu Sword was one of the three national treasures or taken from the Yamata no Orochi—it was simply too broken.

Its entire body was rusted, so decayed that a single touch might shatter it.

Once, when Tsuchimikado Kenji had nothing to do, he secretly took out the Amaterasu Sword to play with it. The moment he pulled it out, it nearly broke, nearly giving him a heart attack.

“Grandfather, our world is in great danger now.”

Tsuchimikado Xia Mei’s delicate face bore a serious expression; her words seemed to answer nothing asked.

…

That night.

Arakawa Ward, Tokyo, Japan, apartment.

Kamikawa Mitsu returned to his room after dinner.

The next moment.

A cold system notification echoed in his mind.

Ding! Host has completed the script. Score: 95.

Ding! Script completed. Host may spend a certain amount of script points to acquire the skills of the script’s main characters.

Ding! Please edit the script into a video and upload it. The system will score it based on its popularity. The final reward of script points will be determined by combining the script completion score and upload popularity.

“This score will likely be higher than last time.”

Kamikawa Mitsu looked at the script characters.

Cimu, Kūkai the monk, the six-eyed demon, and the Master all appeared among the script’s main characters. Aside from Cimu still being blurred and Kūkai’s strength unknown, the skills and panels of the other characters were detailed enough to exchange.

“The Master—the strongest in the Void Demon Realm. If I could exchange for him, no one on Earth could defeat me, not even nuclear weapons.”

Kamikawa Mitsu stroked his chin.

The Master’s power—observed from afar by Takahashi and the others—might seem unclear, but Kamikawa Mitsu knew differently. He had fought the Master. The Master’s full-power strike could pierce and explode the Earth.

“I wonder how many script points it would cost to exchange for him.”

As Kamikawa Mitsu pondered, he opened the script panel and began editing the video for upload.

He currently had zero script points. Considering the cost to exchange for the Master was pointless now; better to upload the video quickly and see how many script points he could earn—maybe enough to exchange.

Quickly.

The video was finished. He clicked upload.

…

Hamamatsu Base, Japan, pilot dormitory.

Fujihiro Masahiro, as usual, idly scrolled through videos.

Ding-dong.

A notification: his subscribed video uploader had posted a new video.

He glanced at the notification.

“Here it is!! Here it is!!” Fujihiro leapt straight off his bed, his excited shout loud enough for the neighboring dorm to hear.

The next moment.

He pounded on the bathroom door where Shixi Jian was showering.

“Ken! Get out now!!”

Before Shixi Jian could emerge, Fujihiro sprinted out the dorm door, frantically banging on every neighboring door, shouting as he went.

“Guys! ‘The Fallen King’ just posted a new video!”

Each time he knocked, he shouted again.

Immediately.

Dorm doors burst open one after another, people rushing out.

“What?! ‘The Fallen King’ posted a new video?!”

“Is this real? Has ‘The Fallen King’ released another video?!”

Instantly, every dorm erupted. The news that ‘The Fallen King’ had posted a new video spread through Hamamatsu Base.

Everyone who heard it immediately pulled out their phones to check.

“It’s real—look!”

Fujihiro pointed to the video titled “File—Higashioku” on his phone screen, then to the uploader’s name above it: ‘The Fallen King’.

The next moment.

Everyone’s eyes glowed with intense curiosity and excitement.

In this moment, no one asked, “Who is ‘The Fallen King’?”

Everyone knew ‘The Fallen King’.

After the videos “File—NH137” and “File—Kōkō Unhu,” ‘The Fallen King’ had already become famous, Japan’s most popular video uploader.

His ability to secretly film what others could not clearly made him extraordinary; just this alone drew countless followers.

After the Higashioku incident, the Transcendent emerged into public view, and many came to believe that ‘The Fallen King’—whose videos constantly hinted at the extraordinary—was himself Transcendent.

For this reason.

After the Higashioku incident, when people discussed Kūkai the monk, Cimu, the Transcendent, and demons, they also turned their attention to ‘The Fallen King’, the suspected Transcendent uploader.

Everyone waited, anticipating whether ‘The Fallen King’ would post another video.

From the previous two videos, they had noticed a pattern.

Every video ‘The Fallen King’ posted involved extraordinary events—he seemed to film only the bizarre, the transcendent.

The Higashioku incident involved demons, the Transcendent, and experiments by the Lord of Specters—such extraordinary events perfectly matched ‘The Fallen King’’s video criteria.

At this moment.

It was 11 p.m.

Though it was bedtime, Hamamatsu Base was unusually lively—no one slept. Everyone watched ‘The Fallen King’’s video, with occasional gasps and murmurs.

The same scene unfolded across Japan.

Many who discovered ‘The Fallen King’ had posted a new video immediately messaged friends and family, then excitedly opened the video titled “File—Higashioku”.

…

Tokyo, Japan, Transcendent Response Division.

Director Takahashi, Minister Saitō, General Suzuki Kū, and other senior officials involved in the Higashioku incident were all gathered. To the outside world, they held high-ranking positions such as Director of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police and General of the Air Self-Defense Force; internally, they held secret roles as senior leaders of the Transcendent Response Division.

Though it was 11 p.m., none of them rested. They gathered here to summarize the Higashioku incident and discuss future strategies for handling the Transcendent.

As they discussed,

Someone entered to report that ‘The Fallen King’ had released a new video.

“Posted a video? Bring it up on the screen.”

Director Takahashi spoke in a low, commanding tone, his gaze sharp as lightning.

The government was closely monitoring ‘The Fallen King’—even more closely than Japanese netizens—with dedicated personnel assigned to track his videos.

Any new activity was immediately reported to top government officials.

The reason for such high priority was that, after the Transcendent’s emergence, the Transcendent Response Division’s senior leadership had unanimously agreed to list ‘The Fallen King’ among the Transcendent.

“Understood!”

…

(PS: Some readers may say, “Damn author, are you going to write a video reaction sequence again? Are you padding?” I can tell you clearly: this video’s content won’t be written out. Everyone already knows the Higashioku incident—so it’s skipped. Stay calm. I won’t pad. I’ll deliver the real stuff.)