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Campione: Strongest# 479: What’s That Smell?
🕑 Added 2025-11-18 11:39:01 +0000 UTC“You actually came begging to me?”
On the crowded Food Street, a girl with waist‑length brown hair tinged with red, an octopus tentacle between her teeth, spoke to thin air in open surprise.
Her habit of casually talking to empty space naturally drew curious looks from the people around her — and once they looked, they couldn’t tear their eyes away.
She was dressed simply: a plain white shirt, light blue jeans, a small suitcase rolling behind her right hand — the very picture of an ordinary tourist on this street.
What wasn’t ordinary was the fresh, striking face framed by that hair, the perfect S‑curve of her figure, and the long, straight legs that put every ounce of her youth and energy on full display.
“You can’t handle it either? No, wait — that’s right, you can’t actually interfere directly.”
She folded her arms, nodding along to the empty air in front of her.
What a waste, such a pretty girl — and she’s clearly not all there, a few onlookers silently lamented.
“Don’t you dare try to throw ‘grandmother’ around like it means anything. I haven’t married your son yet.”
She arched a brow, brushed a few loose strands of hair aside, and curled her lip.
“Still, there’s no way I’m skipping a big, fun little world war on the hidden side. Obviously Aoko Aozaki’s going to be there.”
The newly minted True Mage — and part‑time God of Destruction — chuckled, turned on her heel, and disappeared into the crowd.
Wrapped in gaudy neon, Fuyuki City had already dissolved into chaos.
Cries, screams, curses, the sounds of smashing — even the distant crack of gunfire — echoed from every corner of the city.
“What the hell is going on — is this the damn apocalypse? Where did these things even come from?? Even zombies aren’t supposed to be this smart!!!”
A young officer, neck clamped between the fangs of a Dead Apostle that had crawled up from the sewers, screamed his curses as his composure shattered.
“Fire! Open fire, damn it — shoot them all!!!”
A middle‑aged officer barked into his radio as he yanked the revolver from his belt and emptied round after round at the Dead Apostle latched onto the young man’s throat.
When the thing nimbly slipped between the bullets, the older officer felt despair hit like a truck.
It had started with reports from the alleys of the old district — crazed “biters” attacking anyone they saw.
From the time the first call came in to now, maybe ten minutes at most had passed, and it wasn’t just Fuyuki City anymore; the entire Tokyo Metropolitan Police switchboard was overloaded and screaming.
Like organized military units, the “zombies” now roamed all across Tokyo in packs, attacking on sight.
Barely half an hour in, everyone without modern firearms had already been converted into one of them.
The real reason the collapse had come so fast was simple — these “zombies” could strategize.
The middle‑aged officer let out a broken laugh and tilted his head back to stare at the sky, where a blood‑red full moon hung over the city, staining Tokyo in its crimson light.
The Dead Apostle at his throat finally let go, wiped the blood from its lips, and turned away in search of its next prey.
On a major bridge choked with cars, horns blared in an endless, frantic chorus.
The sidewalks were packed just as tightly, crowds surging and stumbling as sobs and panicked shouts overlapped; trampling accidents broke out again and again, but no one could stop — everyone was too busy trying to survive.
Even the citizens of a country famed for its politeness shed their manners when faced with life‑or‑death terror — and all the ugly instincts underneath came pouring out.
——————————
On the sidewalks on both sides of the bridge—
SHIKI and Ryougi Shiki ran side by side, two agile girls slipping through the packed mass of civilians with practiced ease as they sprinted toward Misaki City, just beyond Kanbu.
All at once, both of them skidded to a halt, eyes widening at the door‑sized “corridor” that had appeared out of thin air in front of them.
Its interior shimmered with kaleidoscopic colors, making it impossible to see what lay on the other side.
The instant they saw that unnatural passageway, both girls snapped their Mystic Eyes wide open, fingers tightening around their blades as every muscle went taut, ready to carve straight through it at the slightest provocation.
“What are you two spacing out for? Get over here.”
Haru’s head suddenly poked out from the corridor, an almost puzzled look on his face.
The crowd surging around them seemed completely blind to the corridor, still shoving, stumbling, and swearing their way forward in a human crush.
“Oh, it’s just you, Uncle.”
Seeing Haru’s face, SHIKI let out a long breath, planted her hands on her hips, and snapped at him, venting all the pent‑up stress in her chest.
Only she knew how tense she’d been minutes ago; even a serial killer got nervous when facing a monster that could swat aside a god’s avatar — and had done it to Haru, no less.
After all, that thing was after her body and Shiki’s — and that was one “offering” she had no intention of handing over.
Beside her, the moment Ryougi Shiki saw Haru’s face, she simply stepped forward and walked straight into the passage.
“Hey, hey, Shiki — at least wait for me!!”
SHIKI clicked her tongue, stomped once in irritation, then threw herself into the corridor after her.
On a mountain road hemmed in by dense forest, a black Toyota sat quietly at the side of the pavement.
A second later, Ryougi Shiki and SHIKI emerged together right beside it.
“Get in first.”
Leaning against the driver’s side door, Haru raised his voice just enough for the two girls still scanning their surroundings.
Two car doors thumped shut in quick succession.
The twin‑like girls climbed into the back seats of the car.
“Oh, you’re here too, Fujino.”
SHIKI flashed a bright grin at Asagami Fujino, whose cheeks were faintly flushed in the front passenger seat.
“Good evening. With that tone… that has to be SHIKI‑onee‑san.”
Fujino gave a slightly embarrassed nod in her direction.
Suddenly, Shiki’s fine nose twitched, and she frowned.
“What’s that smell in here? It’s weird.”
At that, Fujino’s face went scarlet in an instant, like a ripe apple begging to be bitten.
“Hmmm?”
SHIKI raised an eyebrow, eyeing the two in the front seats with open suspicion.
“Probably just the cleaner.”
Haru’s reply was perfectly calm as he deliberately switched topics.
“Akiha contacted me earlier — said she has something important to report. Odds are it’s tied to the mess in Tokyo. We’re heading over now.”
Ignoring the confusion brewing in the back seat, Haru started the engine.
The black sedan rolled forward, slipping quietly down the mountain road.
