Chapter 129: The Land of Fools

"She is a serial killer who relied on her delicate appearance to murder sixteen high school students over the course of three years."

The elevator descended rapidly. Amidst a maddening silence, Wakatsuki Takeshi explained this to Tokita Ohma.

Ohma remained noncommittal regarding such a justification.

When the death row inmates were exhausted, but the experiments still required "consumables," would those who had committed less serious crimes be next in line? Even more extremely, if all criminals were exhausted... would humanity, driven by greed, ever stop? Thus, once human experimentation began, the moral bottom line would inevitably slide away.

However, the only consolation in Ohma's heart was this: when the things these vermin did became so intolerable that even he felt disgusted, he would use these very fists to blast that whole group of mindless scum into oblivion.

"Is that in the canister Godzilla's skin fragments?" Ohma asked, deciding to stop dwelling on the matter.

"Yes, recovered from the combat site." Now that they were no longer discussing moral issues, Wakatsuki’s tone became more relaxed.

"Looking at Dr. Hanafusa's methods, he intends to graft it directly onto the body. Is it really that simple?"

"It’s not as simple as it looks," Wakatsuki explained to him. "First, there’s the weakening of the Godzilla tissue. The raw flesh is far too powerful—that’s how those monsters you saw were created. They were completely eroded by the power within that flesh. The yellowish liquid in that canister is potent enough to dissolve a normal person’s body with just a tiny dose. Godzilla’s flesh has to soak in it for a week before it’s even remotely usable. Then, there’s the suppression of the human immune system. That part is simple enough; it’s similar to organ transplantation."

"..."

"And then? That’s it?" Ohma looked at Wakatsuki in astonishment. A project that could almost restructure the entire scientific system of humanity, and it ended there?

Wakatsuki Takeshi crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the elevator with a faint, enigmatic smile. "Tokita, the resources and research capabilities of this laboratory are undoubtedly the strongest in the world today. Do you really think they’ve only managed to produce this much in the past month?"

Ohma nodded to himself. Regardless of anything else, a project supported by the full weight of a nation should not have resulted in such a crude process. But Wakatsuki’s next sentence shattered his assumptions.

"Yes, that is all they have produced." Before Ohma could ask further, Wakatsuki looked him straight in the eyes with a tone of absolute conviction. "Because the rest is no longer something that current science can solve."

The light inside the elevator suddenly grew brighter. The young man’s pupils automatically adjusted their focus, completing the transition.

Revealed to the two men in the elevator was a massive underground base! The dome was about thirty meters from the ground, covering an area of roughly one square kilometer. Light poured down from large lighting fixtures mounted on several load-bearing columns. Excellent planning made the entire base as bright as day. The clearly organized research section was separated from the loud, fierce combat section. On one side, white-coated researchers moved about; on the other, United States soldiers patrolled in armored vehicles. At the edges of the base, construction machinery was still working to expand the space.

*Boom!*

A tremendous sound erupted! It was a roar that even the rumbling of armored vehicles and the clamor of thousands of soldiers could not mask. Accompanying this sound, a cylindrical sandbag with a diameter of two meters was sent flying so hard that its iron chains snapped, exploding into pieces nearly ten meters in the air!

Ohma watched the destroyed sandbag, licking his lips involuntarily. He revealed a row of grim, ghastly white teeth. This was definitely not power a mere human could possess—not even muscle monsters like Wakatsuki Takeshi or Julius Reinhold could achieve this!

"Again!"

"Again!"

A roar, as heroic as a tiger’s, echoed from where the sandbag had been launched. A crowd had already gathered there.

"Master is at it again," said Wakatsuki, who had led Ohma off the elevator, looking pained as he gazed at the gathering crowd.

"Oh? Your master? I recall the head of the Shinshinkai is... Doppo Orochi?"

"Yes," Wakatsuki said, his expression filled with undisguised pride. "The 'Tiger Killer' who once beat a Siberian tiger to death with his bare hands is indeed my teacher."

The two squeezed into the crowd of onlookers. Most were American soldiers, energetic and boisterous, craning their necks and cheering. Pushing through the crowd, they found a man with an undeniable, overwhelming presence standing in the center of the open space. He was a sturdy, robust bald man. Even wearing a loose, oversized karate gi, his taut muscles seemed to be straining the fabric to the point of tearing. Bulging veins crawled across his scalp and erupted from his muscles.

He simply stood with his hands on his black belt, surveying his surroundings with a wicked, mocking grin. Just that look—the mere intersection of gazes—was enough to make this group of American soldiers, who usually ran rampant across the world, shrink their necks like quails!

As the man turned, Ohma’s eyes caught a glimpse. Beneath the loose karate gi, on the man’s knotted, muscular chest, a patch of skin resembling that of a reptile was embedded! Furthermore, the surgical scars around it were exceptionally faint. This anomaly was not due to the surgeon’s skill in concealing the gruesomeness of the wounds, but rather because the skin appeared to be merging with the human body itself!

"Ha! Takeshi! You’re back. Is this the friend who once crushed you?" A thick arm reached from behind, hooking around the shoulders of Ohma, who was observing the bald man. A handsome young face, wearing an undisguised, wicked playfulness, leaned in close. "The 'monster' who could throw a sonic punch over a month ago—want to play?"

The emphasis of the sentence was on "over a month ago," implying that he, too, could now throw a punch at the speed of sound. Ohma, having long since sensed the person behind him, felt no panic. However, the arm wrapped around him seemed to have no intention of waiting for an answer; its muscles bulged, attempting to lock his neck and drag him away.

Just then, an arm with even more exaggerated proportions intercepted the limb draped over the boy’s shoulder. A palm with thick calluses gripped the young man’s wrist. Under the astonishing grip strength, the two overlapping bodies emitted a sound like grinding raw leather.

"Katsumi, I warned you, didn't I? Don’t mess with the newcomers! If you violate..." Doppo Orochi, the bald man, spoke in the tone of a worried father concerned for his son's moral education. Yet, his face wore a twisted expression of ecstasy, as if anticipating the violence to come!

His son, Orochi Katsumi, answered with equal impatience: "I completely forgot about that! Old man, there’s no helping it; I’ll just have to make your fists work a little harder."

Katsumi released Ohma’s shoulder without hesitation and stepped forward, approaching his father with eager anticipation.

"So," Ohma said, arms crossed, his voice calm, "I was used by that kid as a gimmick to start a fight with his own father?"

"I am truly sorry," Wakatsuki said, bowing in embarrassment to the boy. "Master and Katsumi are just martial arts fanatics who don't care about anyone else, and besides..."