Leaving the Mountains: Shirou and Holmes's New Journey / Superman? The Black-Haired Shirou...

So, Shirou began to imagine it. Thirty years ago? Akechi, Hatano, Hatano's lover, and then, a man who wasn't there now. "Could it be..." Shirou murmured, "Could it be... that it was Nobunaga who violated that girl?"

Hatano opened his mouth, but made no sound.

Akechi remained motionless, his lips tightly closed.

"I have no basis for this, it's just simple math." Shirou scratched his head. "Thirty years ago, it happened right when Mr. Hatano's lover had that accident, and then Nobunaga died, her lover died, and the bully also died suddenly. That's absolutely true, right?"

"It wasn't Nobunaga ... His death was also my fault." Hatano's face was now ashen, and he looked gloomy.

Chapter 1166 Leaving the Mountains, Shirou and Holmes' New Journey

"No, that was Nobunaga's own fault. He said he would preside over the ceremony because he has the blood of that clan in his veins, and I only agreed to it in order to get his cooperation." Akechi spoke up at this moment.

"My father died early, so when I graduated from high school, I took over the management of this village, and of course, the same went for the affairs of the demonic path. At the time, I was busy and didn't have time to deal with Hatano's affairs, and then his lover had an accident..."

"After that, his lover came to the village to find me. She wanted to use the power of the cave sacrifice to exchange one life for another and take revenge on that person."

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have told her these things. She was completely devastated at the time, only thinking about taking revenge on that person by dying. I clearly told her that I wouldn't despise her and that I would take good care of her. But she wouldn't listen to my advice."

"Then we held a selection process for the sacrifice, and we chose Hatano. But even with the dice set up correctly, unexpected things can still happen."

"There was a mistake at the time, Nobunaga was chosen?" Shirou speculated.

"Well, at the time, we were struggling to maintain order in the whole village with just the two of us, and we were short-handed, so we wanted to recruit Nobunaga. That man was a womanizer and lazy, so we told him we'd share the money with him, and they immediately agreed. But..."

"Only..."

"Nobunaga knows about the sacrifice, so she's been clamoring for him to preside over it." Akechi pulled a wooden box from his pocket; it seemed to be the Magecraft tool to activate the cave.

"I agreed and instructed him to follow the rules completely, but then another unexpected thing happened. When one bad thing happens, everything else always seems to go in the wrong direction."

Nobunaga deceived Akechi into believing she was just experiencing what it was like to be Magecraft, but in reality, she wanted to use human sacrifice to fulfill her own desires.

A mistake occurred during the sacrifice. The wish submitted by the village chief in a wooden box beforehand differed from the wish prayed by the sacrificer. Thus, two wishes were made to the cave. The god granted the first wish at the cost of his girlfriend's sacrifice, causing the prisoner to die suddenly.

After fulfilling Akechi wish, he himself became a sacrifice and suffered the backlash of being a living sacrifice.

This is the truth of what happened back then.

Shirou accepted this explanation for the time being, then looked at Hatano and said, "Why are you, as a sacrifice, outside the cave? That's strange."

"Because..." Hatano, "It's too stuffy inside the cave, so I sometimes come out for some fresh air."

The answer sounded like a lie, but Shirou didn't press the matter further.

He remembered something he'd found in the safe: the yellowed photograph tucked inside the notebook. It wasn't black and white, but faded to a pale color. In the photo, two teenagers, their arms around each other's shoulders, sporting identical hairstyles, were smiling happily.

Of course, that must have been Akechi and Hatano back then; but the two people in front of me have aged a lot, and there is not a trace of a smile on their faces, yet they are very, very similar to the photos in that picture.

Shirou sighed and said to Akechi, "Whether this approach is right or wrong, I think you're quite remarkable."

"Am I that amazing?" Perhaps not expecting such praise, Akechi's expression revealed his inner turmoil for the first time.

"No politician would sacrifice themselves for the country," Shirou recalled Nene saying.

For the sake of the village's future, Akechi upheld his own beliefs and insights, putting into practice what he believed in, even at the cost of sacrificing magic, friendship, and the joys of life. Although it's hard to say whether what he did was right or wrong, Shirou sincerely admired Akechi's decisiveness and strong will.

Akechi smiled, somewhat puzzled, and said, "What I did wasn't for the sake of the people; I only care about this village and its residents. It's nothing special."

"Yes," Shirou said, then bid farewell to the two.

On his way back to the parking lot, he turned back to look at the rock face only once.

There were no villagers in sight ahead of the cave, but there was a constant urge to hurry up and close it, like, "Quickly! Hurry up!" or "Alright! Close it now!"

Excited shouts echoed in my ears, booming like the earth, as if carried by the wind, swirling and swirling again.

Shirou and Holmes left the mountains and returned to the city; they still had to search for the next fragment.

However, several weeks later, Holmes saw a small news item in the newspaper.

"Shirou, look at the newspaper. It says a male body was found in the mountains bordering the God Manifest Town. It's believed the man died in the mountains."

His name and photo were published; it was indeed Kameda.

"Yes," Shirou murmured, letting his imagination run wild.

In other words, when Akechi and the other man brought him into the cave, Kameda's body had already been abandoned in the mountains, right? Does that mean they successfully murdered him for money? Or did Kameda admit defeat, entrusting them to return the fragments to him, and then, after Shirou confirmed that no one was in the cave, they brought Kameda back inside? Is that correct?

Or perhaps a conflict arose between the two? Did Akechi, possessing the ability to communicate with the mystery within that cave, defeat Kameda and then abandon his body on the mountain?

Of course, it's also possible that it was all a coincidence. Kameda was ordered to leave the city, happened to hear about the God Manifest Town, became interested, and wanted to see the rock wall. So he went into the mountains, but unfortunately died in the accident. That's not impossible.

Shirou pondered, "What if Kameda hadn't died in a mountain accident, but had been killed by Akechi and his gang?"

Holmes interjected, "So?"

Yeah, so what?

The world of Magecraft has never been rational from the beginning. In the pursuit of the root of magic, most Magecraft have already given up on being human. They use all sorts of extreme methods to conduct research and prolong their lives, and the methods they use often cross the line of human decency.

Shirou and Holmes got out of the car and headed towards the airport. Their next task was to investigate Moriarty's whereabouts. The old man had used Kameda to get them away, clearly plotting something behind their backs again.

"Excuse me! Gentlemen, please wait a moment!" A hurried voice from a middle-aged or elderly man called out to the two men.

This is an elderly man dressed in an elegant suit, wearing a top hat, and leaning on a cane with a gold handle, dressed like a European gentleman.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Excuse me, this is what I do." The old man handed over his business card.

He works in the arts and also runs a private museum.

Holmes was holding a wooden carving, a gift from the old man at the Kinoshita, who had asked him to go into town and promote it. Holmes intended it as a present for someone at the airport. Unexpectedly, it caught the old man's attention.

"May I ask whose work this is? Forgive my poor eyesight, but I couldn't recognize the author. Could this be a new work by that master who pioneered a new style?"

"Master?"

For a moment, Shirou was speechless, and the image of Nene excitedly shouting "Done!" flashed through his mind.

"Can you appreciate the exquisite artistry of this work?" Holmes asked calmly.

"Ah! Of course! I've been in the art world for over fifty years! This free and easy carving, this artistic conception—the artist must have a very open and generous heart. It's truly a remarkable work! Forgive my poor eyesight, but I can't tell which master it's from. Could you tell me its provenance? Of course! If you're willing to transfer it to me, then everything is negotiable."

Shirou and Holmes exchanged a glance, then Shirou gave the art dealer a friendly business smile.

Chapter 1167 Superman? Shirou

A startled scream rang out from the street.

A man carrying a folded coat in his left hand walked out of the building entrance, the sidewalk packed with people. Everyone was looking up, making noise, and moving left or right.

The man wasn't particularly interested in the surrounding noise; he continued walking forward, one step at a time, trying to figure out who was in trouble.

A white hat floated by, probably falling from above, and he looked towards the rooftop of the building, only to see a helicopter. The red and white fuselage appeared on the rooftop of the high-rise building, looking as if it were hooked to the edge of the building, clearly very unstable.

Did the helicopter fail to land at the airport, or did it lose control? Upon closer inspection, although it was only the size of a bean, you could see a person hanging from the helicopter's landing gear, looking like they could fall at any moment.

At that moment, the man moved!

This granite-paved sidewalk is located on the west side of a single-lane road. Pushing through the throngs of people, he quickened his pace. His heels touched the ground, his weight shifted to his toes; his heels lifted, and the tongue of his shoe, which contacts the instep, curved backward, just as wrinkles around the eyes become more pronounced with age, the wrinkles on the surface of the shoe tongue gradually deepened.

As my toes left the sidewalk, the two tassels on my shoes seemed like two intersecting dragons, colliding, intertwining, and leaping up. I finally found a public phone, but it wasn't a kiosk-style one; it was the simple kind where you put the phone on a single-legged stool. Clearly, I couldn't transform here.

A man walked past the entrance of a luxury hotel, then crossed the road, leaving the gathered crowd of onlookers behind.

A horn blared, and a yellow car sped past. He took off his suit jacket as he ran across the road, his fingers slipping into his collar to pull the knot of his tie outwards. Once the tie was loose, he reached into the gap between the buttons on the front of his white shirt and tugged at it from side to side.

A few buttons popped off to the ground, revealing a dark blue bodysuit with red and white trim, and gold sleeves, belt, and boots, resembling the American flag, peeking out from under the shirt.

Her blonde hair stood up in a huge V shape, and a striking red pattern, like a letter, was painted on her chest.

"Hey, what's going on here?!" The curly-haired man standing nearby exclaimed in surprise, asking in confusion, "Are you attending some event wearing a full-body, dark blue bodysuit in public?"

"I'll explain later," he replied, then suddenly raised his hands above his head and kicked off the ground.

The next second, his body floated into the air, transforming into a red and blue comet that tumbled upwards.

Then, the body, clad in a tight-fitting combat suit, flew up like an arrow released from a bow.

He stretched out his right arm, his eyes fixed ahead, increasing his speed, feeling the heat of his skin rubbing against the air. The background disappeared behind him, and the road lay directly below him. The woman clinging to the helicopter landing gear finally let go and began to fall. Her screams echoed all around, and the pedestrians below cried out in a mixture of fear and sorrow.

His body transformed into a bullet, flying straight upwards. The woman was falling. Her face was up, her eyes rolled back, as if she was about to faint. Her hands were in a "holy" gesture, as if expressing her helplessness—she could only fall downwards.

He assumed a welcoming stance below, increasing his speed once more. He stretched his arms forward, rising higher. He bent his arms into a hook shape, forming a makeshift cradle, and embraced the falling woman. The downward force impacted his arms, like an invisible parachute opening, bringing the woman to a perfect landing.

After placing the woman on the ground, he leaped up again, caught the helicopter with one hand, and landed it on the ground while holding it.

The man declared:

"It's all alright now! Why? Because I've come!"

As their toes touched the ground, the wind from the helicopter's rotors whipped the hair of the man and the rescued woman into the air. It was as if a symphony had finished playing and the conductor had stopped, but only after a moment of emotional respite did the audience erupt in delighted applause.

Applause filled the sidewalk. "We're saved!" "We're alright!" "That's All Might for All Might! So cool!"

The image paused here. The applause and cheers stopped, and the man holding the helicopter remained motionless. Isaka, who had paused the image using the remote control, turned to the young man with dark brown skin and a red headscarf sitting opposite him and asked, "Shirou-kun, you said you possess special powers, just like All Might?"

"Completely different from the hero I just saw." Sitting across from Isaka on the sofa, the somewhat rude black-haired youth grimaced and shook his head, saying, "I can't fly, and... look, I'm not wearing a uniform underneath." He tugged at his thin red shirt, then unbuttoned the top few buttons, revealing his clothes underneath. They were pure white, and the exposed skin was covered in various tattoos.

"So, what can you do?" Isaka asked, a look of disappointment on his face.

"I know the future, or more precisely, I can see all the evil in the world, both past and future," Shirou Angra Mainyu said.

Even Isaka was taken aback by his serious words.

Isaka frowned. "Hey, is this man alright?" Although Isaka didn't say it aloud, his pleading expression seemed to say, "Could he be some unreliable fortune teller?" He already regretted letting this young man who claimed to be a salesman into the door on a whim.

This is the Isaka family. Isaka is a genius writer who debuted in his twenties and became famous immediately. Even after becoming famous, he has continued to write novels. Although in today's reading era, where people either pursue practicality or entertainment, his works are not considered bestsellers.

Few people in the general public can appreciate the value of his novels anymore, and some have never even read them through, but his books still receive high praise in the industry.

At least whenever Isaka introduces which literary awards he has received, the other person usually shows admiration. Although they have not read any of his books, those awards are top-notch in the country. Kawabata, Mishima, Miyazawa, Natsume, Dazai—just by using these names, one should know that those awards are very prestigious.

Isaka has a strong sense of justice. He is a fervent fan of heroes and actively promotes the professionalization and formal education of heroes.

Isaka very intelligent, a fact that everyone who knows him must admit. He has a keen eye, like a bird of prey searching for its prey from above. He reads, gathers information online, and sometimes even consults papers written in foreign languages, giving the impression that he is always thinking.

The topics he pondered were all quite ordinary and not outlandish, such as "the relationship between the state and the individual," "the limits of education's influence on human nature," "the issue of equality between women and men," and "the duality of good and evil in humanity."

However, when the young man came to his door and asked him whether he should have killed someone to save them, he was completely dumbfounded.

Chapter 1168 Dark Hero Shirou

Isaka didn't intend to publish his opinions in any newspapers or magazines, but Isaka love of thinking was undeniable. He would occasionally talk to friends who came to visit, for example, "Nobita, can you listen to my thoughts?" and then begin to elaborate.

Whether the theory behind it is valid or beneficial to the world is another matter, but Isaka, as a writer, is so knowledgeable in his field that he can have an equal conversation with professors in that field.

Of course, it's also possible that he himself demonstrated an attitude of being able to have an equal conversation; in any case, apart from the professor, no one else could understand him.

On the other hand, Isaka also has a shockingly childish side. He is extremely obsessed with hero studies, whether it is real-life figures like All Might or movies and comics featuring superheroes. Isaka will imitate their actions and costumes, and is often very proud of it.

When he goes to the public bathhouse, he stares at the other side, pretending he has X-ray vision like Superman.

While riding my bicycle to buy groceries, I imagined it was a Batmobile.

He said happily, "That's it! When you shine light on a wall, the wall becomes transparent."

He pressed his ear against the wall and said, "His hearing is also excellent; he can hear every word from over there."

About ten minutes ago, this dark-haired, brown-skinned young man who called himself Shirou Angola Manuel arrived at the Isaka residence.

After pressing the intercom, he introduced himself as a salesman from a security company. He was a baby-faced, somewhat handsome young man who spoke in a gentle and refined manner.

"Please listen to the explanation, okay?" He seemed to be visiting each household in the area, trying to sell a security system for small shops and private residences.

Normally, if Isaka saw someone younger and more handsome than himself, he would have ignored him and chased him away. However, Isaka was currently arguing on an online forum.

The debate started with whether the government should fully support the development of superhuman abilities to help humanity evolve, and continued until it escalated to the point where the idea of Superman and Batman facing off was even valid.

DC is just a comic book artist; they don't know anything about Superman!

Isaka was still angry, so on a whim, he thought, "Why don't I listen to what the salesperson has to say?"

In short, he was trying to vent his frustration from the argument by playing a prank on the salesman.

Perhaps he was already prepared to be turned away; was the salesman's behavior unusual? No, perhaps he was simply not an ordinary salesman.

After entering the room, under the light, Isaka carefully examined the man again.

This was a young man, appearing to be between twenty and twenty-five years old. In fact, if it weren't for the briefcase he was carrying, one could easily believe he was a high school student. He had tanned skin, a slender build, and a rebellious air about him, though this sharpness was concealed by his black-rimmed square-lens glasses, giving him a dashing and debonair air.

The man handed over his business card. "My name is Shirou Angra Mainyu. Nice to meet you."

"A foreigner?" Isaka asked, puzzled.

"No, they're Japanese."