They’re Here! They’re Here!

Tokyo Air Force Main Base, command office.

Commander Okamura, an officer, and a gate guard serving as a communications operator—the three men in the room all held their breath in extreme tension, absurdly hoping to fool the enemy this way, not even daring to breathe loudly.

Under this suffocating atmosphere, the footsteps in the corridor drew closer and clearer, pounding heavily against their hearts.

‘Tap, tap…’

The footsteps stopped outside the door. Then a tall, dark crimson figure swept inside. The instant it appeared, the room was flooded with overwhelming killing intent and the stench of blood.

Commander Okamura had attained his current honored military rank only after who knew how many battles, large and small, after crawling out of mountains of corpses countless times.

Yet even he sucked in a sharp breath, his hair standing on end. He involuntarily backed up until his back hit the wall, desperately suppressing the urge to flee at all costs.

The enemy standing at the doorway could not simply be described as a "person." It was clearly a "humanoid monster"!

Its narrow, scarlet eyes were cold and merciless. Blood stained the tough, dark keratinous skin covering its body. Its perfectly defined muscles radiated a dangerous aura of savagery and strength, while Dark Claws as sharp as a wolf beast’s extended from each of its clenched fists.

As this humanoid monster slowly entered the room, the murderous and brutal aesthetic in its very presence left no one with even the thought of resisting it.

It was like a small bird seeing a falcon. Between them lay a difference of several entire levels on the biological pyramid.

"Just as I thought, you were here." The demonic humanoid monster grinned, somehow speaking fluent Japanese in a hoarse voice as its scarlet eyes fixed on Commander Okamura deeper inside the room.

Commander Okamura breathed even more urgently. Bracing both hands against his desk to hide his weakening legs, he asked in horror, "Y-you… what kind of monster are you?!"

"Commander. Didn’t you send seven fighter planes to kill me?" The humanoid monster smiled with human-like ease, withdrawing from Venom’s fully enveloping form and revealing the handsome face of a young man.

The tough, seamless keratinous membrane over his body flowed in streaks of black liquid, transforming into a leather Night Suit.

"It’s you… Kyle from the United States." Commander Okamura stared blankly at Kyle, who had returned to his normal appearance and attire, disbelief written across his face.

A few hours earlier, Japanese officials and military leaders had reached a decision after intense discussion: the moment the target entered Tokyo’s airspace, the air force would launch an interception and crush America’s momentum.

Yet not only had the seven Raiden fighters failed to eliminate him, but he had come directly to their doorstep and forcibly broken into the Air Force Main Base…

Commander Okamura forced himself to accept this horrifying reality, trembling all over and unable to find the words.

This was utterly unreasonable!

Unfortunately, Germany, which had already withdrawn from the World War II battlefield, had no time to warn Japan: "Watch out for Kyle."

After all, Kyle was exactly that kind of unreasonable man. If he could fight, he would never waste words. If he could take an enemy head-on, he would never back down. His very existence represented the word "power."

If seven Raiden fighters could not beat him, then he would dismantle and destroy them all.

He had fought his way through Hydra base factories equipped with even stronger weapons, as well as German military bases defended by far more soldiers. How could Japan’s main air force base possibly stop him?

With Superman Physique twelve times beyond human capability, hundreds of combat techniques for facing enemies, and Venom’s protective outer layer and weaponized traits, ordinary soldiers were simply far too fragile before Kyle!

No matter how fiercely Japanese Army soldiers resisted or how fearlessly they charged toward death, before an absolutely crushing gap in strength, they were nothing but worthless rabble, unable to withstand a single blow!

"Commander." Kyle gazed at Commander Okamura coldly and said meaningfully, "I wanted to witness this so-called Bushido spirit of yours, so I came as requested."

Commander Okamura’s face turned livid with fury and shock, but he soon sighed heavily. From the wall beside him, where a red sun flag hung, he took down a finely crafted short steel katana that resembled a work of art.

The officer and communications operator both lowered their heads and prostrated themselves on the ground, not daring to make a sound to dissuade him.

Beneath Kyle’s sharp, oppressive gaze, Commander Okamura dejectedly knelt on the floor. Holding the coldly gleaming katana in a reverse grip, he gritted his teeth and suddenly drove it into his abdomen.

He groaned in pain and toppled sideways onto the floor, blood gushing continuously from around the blade like a spring.

In Commander Okamura’s view, he could not escape blame for provoking an enemy they should never have provoked and allowing the Tokyo air force base to fall. To die by the ritual suicide revered by Bushido was an honorable sacrifice.

Kyle’s expression remained cold as he looked at the air force commander lying in a pool of blood, as though watching an ant end its own insignificant life.

Japan was somewhat similar to a country from Kyle’s previous life. One especially repulsive thing about it was its arrogant self-importance and its belief that it stood above others, along with its worship of Bushido.

Kyle felt that, since he had made the rare trip here, it was necessary to teach Japan a lesson about what true invincible strength was!

"I won’t kill you." Kyle glanced at the officer and communications operator on the floor and ordered, "Take your commander’s body away. Tell your Emperor that before long, I’ll pay him a ‘visit’!"

The officer and communications operator exhaled in relief. They hurried forward, each grabbing one of Commander Okamura’s arms and legs, and quickly carried him out of the office.

"Oh, right. Take this with you." Kyle suddenly remembered something and waved his hand. A card nailed itself firmly into the commander’s chest. On its back was a black image of a grinning demon.

It was neither America’s national emblem nor a symbol of the American military. It was merely a Demon Card representing his own position!

His declaration that he would shake and force the entire nation of Japan through his own strength had never been a joke. It was reality about to be recorded in history!

After the two Japanese Army men left with the corpse, Kyle headed out of the command office. Outside, the base was ablaze, countless buildings engulfed in roaring flames, and the fire was about to spread to the command building at the heart of the base.

Across the vast grounds, countless soldiers’ corpses and remains were being devoured by tongues of flame. Blood and fire reflected one another, scorching the night sky into a tragic crimson.

The main air force base looked as though it had been baptized by disaster, utterly devastated.

The Soviet side had a saying that described Kyle perfectly: "Wherever he went, war, disaster, and death followed. He was an envoy of hell, the incarnation of a demon, and a hero in the eyes of others."

Kyle quickened his pace, darting between collapsing, burning structures as he approached the airfield at the far end of the base.

Quite a few of those finely made Japanese fighters had reached blue-tier quality. It would be a shame not to take them along.

By his usual way of doing things, as long as he maintained the habit of drawing spoils from the battlefield, he would always make a profit without ever taking a loss!