139: Chapter 122: I Am the Weapon 139: Chapter 122: I Am the Weapon After the Rat Tide, Aizu City healed itself at an astonishing rate.
A heavy black light rail roared toward Niaohui Avenue, moving like a giant tal centipede, and finally ca to a halt in the middle of the platform.
Arcs buzzed, the carriage doors slid open along the track, and a swarming crowd poured out of the segnts of this centipede, with over 1200 people arriving in Aizu City from Anjiu City.
Following that, they pushed toward the corners of the Underground City like a herd of pigs released from a pen, frantically searching for food and shelter.
They had lost their jobs on the Ground for various reasons and couldn’t survive in Anjiu City, so they followed the advice of friends, superiors, and the dark anonymity of the deep web—roll on to Aizu City.
Hara Yoshio stood by the window, looking down at the crowds scuttling like cockroaches on the street below.
They would co to rent his properties.
Hara Yoshio naturally thought of the many real estates he owned in Aizu City.
After the Ratman had scoured the city, the holess and destitute, naked and bare, had been preyed upon one by one, and then the corporations slaughtered the Ratman too.
Ratman, poor people, like two wild dogs under the city, biting and hating each other.
Those with even a bit of status could sit in a secured place, looking through the glass as they killed each other to death, such were the ways of the world.
After the lockdown lifted, this train would bring new inhabitants daily from Anjiu City while the Ratman vanished without a trace, once again becoming an urban legend.
A new urban legend had recently erged: the “Cyber Demon Shadow.”
The so-called “Cyber Demon Shadow” claid to be the disciple of the Cyber Specter, wandering through the city and creating horrifying killings.
After each act of violence, an ominous shadowy symbol would be left at the scene.
The apartnt where Hara Yoshio lived was beautiful; the rciful Dragon luxury apartnts were famously lavish accommodations nearby, with a monthly rent of 17,500 Funds, decorated in opulent fashion.
During the Rat Tide, it had defended itself, killing one Giant Rat and 294 regular Ratn.
He felt he was born to enjoy life.
Hara Yoshio walked over to the mirror to admire his reflection, dressed in a white satin shirt and beige trousers, tailor-made for him by a private boutique studio in Anjiu City, and the expensive clothes made him even more confident.
Next to Hara Yoshio, in a large rosewood wardrobe, hung 14 flayed girl skins, neatly arranged, resembling 14 new pale-yellow dresses at a cursory glance.
The youngest among them was Hara Yoshio’s prized possession, distinctly smaller than the rest.
On the other side of the human skins were 14 different sets of clothing, the outfits they wore on the days they were killed.
Hara Yoshio had them laundered, fresh as new.
Everything was tidy and orderly, providing him with a soothing sense of serenity.
He liked to keep things well-organized, bordering on obsessive-compulsive.
The idea ca to Hara Yoshio after watching Suzukawa Kiyo’s live broadcast.
Under the request of a 100 million Funds paid bullet comnt, Suzukawa Kiyo had been flayed; experiencing the strongest excitent he’d ever felt and realizing that what he sought was not the collision of flesh, but the separation of skin.
He set out to find prospects in reality; in the virtual world, he had only stripped away ones and zeros.
He preferred the touch of a girl’s skin, and many impoverished girls in Aizu City were chasing for Funds and mansions—all of which Hara Yoshio could provide.
The average girl lasted 11 hours in his place before breathing their last.
He had also made contact with new prey today, arranging an offline et-up, and she would soon be visiting his door, making Hara Yoshio wonder how long she would last.
Hara Yoshio grood his looks in the mirror, practicing a variety of expressions.
He dyed his hair blonde and combed it back neatly.
To show mature charm, he kept a slightly bluish stubble and switched to pale blue eyes with implants, making him appear genteel.
He kept a disciplined lifestyle with frequent sports, which gave off a very positive aura, broad shoulders that easily filled out his clothes, and beautifully defined muscularity.
His first impression on people, both n and won, was generally good, and he was well-connected socially, often seen in bars and gyms.
Hara Yoshio didn’t need to work; his parents had moved to the Taixi Continent.
They were true sages and talents in financial investnt, having penetrated the secrets of digital trades early and achieving financial independence, leaving him nine properties in Aizu City worth 60 million Funds, all rented out, with substantial monthly inco.
There were too many young girls lost and out of their depth on the net; Hara Yoshio’s mission was to indulge in their youth, savor their exquisite tenderness, and then turn their skin into works of art.
Before the mirror, Hara Yoshio chose a suitable tie from a selection that varied greatly in the pattern, material, and price, though the girls generally couldn’t tell the difference.
He couldn’t help but think about the next girl—he saw from her photos that she was beautiful, gloomy, a bit mysterious.
She would probably prefer him to be in a more casual deanor at ho.
So, he put away the tie and pulled out a drawer filled with luxury watches, removing the Minister of Ti 140th anniversary edition watch from his wrist and placing it inside, letting it slowly spin along with the others.
He picked up a rare perfu, “Bacchus,” a high-end brand produced by the Iris Group, priced at 70,000 Funds a bottle.
With a light spray of the perfu at the collar, instantly pheromones that triggered romantic impulses filled the air, substances specifically designed to provoke love, significantly influencing the mind and reducing judgnt.
Hara Yoshio himself had implant filters installed, so he wasn’t affected.
With a practiced captivating smile that he’d rehearsed thousands of tis, Hara Yoshio heard the doorbell ring.
He closed the wardrobe filled with girl skins, pressing a button to hide it deep within the wall.
Where the wardrobe once was now beca a green wall with a scenic painting, highly concealed, with no one the wiser.
After a final adjustnt to his collar, Hara Yoshio walked toward the door.
When Hara Yoshio opened the door, he saw a young girl standing at the entrance.
Her eyes were strikingly beautiful, and she wore a mask and a black duckbill cap, dressed in a heavy deep-purple parka.
She gazed at him blankly, seemingly srized by Hara Yoshio’s charm.
“Please co in,” Hara Yoshio smiled, “I’ve been waiting for you for a long ti.”
They had t online.
The girl’s screen na was “Emotion Deficit and Chip Overload,” which instantly painted a picture of soone who was self-destructive and suffered from psychological issues.
She was naturally averse to school, destitute, and lacking in affection.
It didn’t take long for Hara Yoshio to move her, and she talked with him tirelessly into the night, session after session.
After spending all her funds, she decided to stay at his place for a while to escape the pressures of life, willing to pay the price with her body.
The girl walked into the living room, strolling around curiously, admiring the classical liquor cabinet and the black stone fireplace.
Hara Yoshio smiled slightly and looked up at the ceiling’s gaze tracking device.
Noticing his intent, rainbow lights reflected off the large glass chandelier.
An entire wall of the living room had been turned into a smart screen, now displaying art paintings designed by AI, each fra beautiful to behold.
As soft and refined classical music played, the entire living room resembled a palace entwined with auroras and dreams.
“Hungry?
I’ve prepared dinner,” Hara Yoshio indicated towards the dining area, where scallops and salmon were part of the nu, with a bottle of red wine and fresh flowers in the middle of the table.
The girl didn’t say a word, simply looking around incessantly, as if everything in this place fascinated her.
Hara Yoshio had seen too many girls react this way and could tell from the tags on their underwear about their quality of life.
But the girl in front of him gave off an odd sense of danger—behind those phantom-like beautiful eyes was a dead indifference.
He subconsciously started to scan her body, but there was no signal feedback, and in response to Hara Yoshio’s probing, the girl looked up.
“I was checked at the door,” her voice sounded drained of crucial emotions, as if it were a series of ticulously woven programmatical dialogues, “No personal blade, no concealed gun.”
“Don’t bla the security asures, after all, there are a lot of crazies in Aizu City,” Hara Yoshio t her gaze, his heart involuntarily fluttering as he fantasized about the delicate features hidden behind the mask, “No weapons are allowed in the rciful Dragon Apartnt.”
“I have a weapon for self-defense,” the girl said, “they couldn’t detect it.”
“Couldn’t detect it?” Hara Yoshio found it amusing, “What kind of weapon did you bring?”
In the midst of their conversation, Hara Yoshio couldn’t help but reach for the pistol strapped to his back waist.
“I am the weapon.” The girl’s chanical arm hidden in her sleeve reconfigured into a full-length sword.
She shifted her weight, swung the sword upward in a wide arc—its blade cutting through the air, skin, blood vessels, and bones, chopping off Hara Yoshio’s head.
Slash!
Blood spurted out, splashing onto the chandelier above.
His exquisite clothing beca drenched in blood, as his headless body fell to the floor with a thud.
The expression on his severed head hadn’t even had the chance to change by the ti it hit the ground, never to bounce again, as blood gushed out of it.
The strike was quick and precise.
The Cyber Specter had personally transferred to her a selection of combat files collected from anonymous networks, ensuring she had a corresponding solution for every type of combat scenario.
The predator of young girls’ skins was now dispatched.
The girl bowed, cut open Hara Yoshio’s shirt, and dug out the subcutaneous alarm device from beneath his right rib.
Sadly, it was too late; the device had already sent out the first signal, and the security service bound to his life would soon arrive at the scene.
This was a challenging prey for her.
The deviant ca from a wealthy family; his apartnt was luxurious, and he had concealed most of his personal information.
It was difficult to get close, so she had to willingly walk into the trap to learn his exact address.
These social interactions were not Seeking Shadow’s forte, but Nidelaide helped her script conversations.
He had seen enough ani to be familiar with the trope of holess young girls taken in by older n, deeply understanding female psychology, creating an atmosphere of mysterious allure.
Seeking Shadow took a photo of the man’s headless body, hamred the smart screen on the wall forcefully, and transmitted a death symbol from her database to the display.
The symbol consisted of three elents: a seven-pointed star, a crossed cross, and a roaring evil spirit.
Nidelaide had also designed this symbol, drawing inspiration from ani about vampire hunters.
And so, she cleansed one sin after another, enforcing justice from the shadows, instilling fear of the Cyber Demon Shadow in people’s hearts!
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