Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 431: Night of Wind and Tides (11)

Dragon Raja 3

He was looking for a sliver of hope.

That hope had begun when Chime tried to assassinate the Osho. Chisei didn’t know why his brother had done it, but after all these years, they were finally standing on the same side in this war.

No matter where you have been, who you are, whether you are my friend or my enemy…

Nothing can change our past.

When we were lonely and helpless, you were the one who stayed by my side for all those years.

And that’s why Chisei came here today. Even if there was only a sliver of hope, he had to take it.

The cigarette burned down, searing his fingers. Snapping out of his thoughts, he stubbed it out in the ashtray and put his headset back on.

“Report your status,” he said.

“Flower Unit reporting—sixteen streets surrounding Takamagahara remain under our control. No anomalies detected.”

“Fang Unit reporting—all snipers in position, full coverage on Takamagahara.”

“Iron Squad reporting: the first-floor lobby, second-floor restaurant, and rooftop terrace are all clear. Control personnel report every 30 seconds.”

“Crane Squad reporting: the ‘Ninja’ armed helicopter is conducting aerial patrol over Takamagahara. Radar surveillance indicates the surrounding blocks are all clear.”

“Very good,” Chisei said.

For this negotiation, the Yamata no Orochi spared no effort. Aside from the Kazama Clan’s ninja unit remaining in Akai to guard the reservoir filled with the corpses of dragon subspecies, all other elites had been deployed to Shinjuku. The scale of this operation was no less than the one used to intercept the Death Servitors at sea.

From the sky to the ground, even down to the sewers, the Yamata no Orochi had constructed a 360-degree three-dimensional defense. Within the entire Tokyo area, no force could break through such a defensive perimeter. The negotiations between the Patriarch and the Dragon King could not be interrupted.

Chisei closed his eyes to rest, waiting for the moment to arrive. Light footsteps echoed down the hallway.

The alarm sirens tore through the night, high-decibel waves relaying from station to station. Someone had activated the air raid alarm. Within seconds, the piercing sound reverberated across the vast city of Tokyo.

Chisei sprang up, looking out the window, trying to understand what had happened. The air raid alarm was the most severe citywide alert. Activating it meant that there wasn’t even time to warn citizens through television and radio—the danger was imminent.

The Oni Clan? Could the Oni Clan possibly launch an air raid on Shinjuku? That was utterly impossible! Even if they managed to acquire a few bombers, unauthorized aircraft couldn’t possibly enter the capital’s missile defense zone, which was fortified with Patriot-3 missiles and a radar network—an impenetrable defense.

On the first floor, the people reveling in the dance hall were also frightened. The air raid alarm was so sharp that even the pounding disco music couldn’t suppress it. At that same moment, everyone’s phones rang simultaneously, the ringtones merging into another terrifying alarm.

Fūma Kōtarō pulled out his phone. It was an emergency alert from the Tokyo Meteorological Agency, sent to all citizens. The message was extremely brief:

“Attention all citizens: An unprecedentedly powerful tsunami is about to enter Tokyo Bay. Residents in coastal areas must evacuate immediately. Those unable to evacuate in time should seek shelter in basements or the upper floors of buildings.”

A deep, thunderous sound rolled in from the east, so overwhelming that it drowned out all other noise.

It was really the sound of the tides.

Fūma Kōtarō couldn’t believe his ears. Shinjuku was about ten kilometers from the coast—how could the waves be audible from here?

The ground trembled, as if thousands of elephants were stampeding through the streets. The massive crystal chandelier above the dance floor swung violently like a pendulum. Women in high heels wobbled, along with the glassware on the tables, on the verge of toppling over.

“Crane Squad! Crane Squad! Report status! What’s happening outside?” Fūma Kōtarō shouted into his radio.

All he heard was static—ionization interference had disrupted wireless communications. Such severe atmospheric ionization could only occur during a solar flare or a nuclear explosion.

Enxi jumped to her feet, trying to rush outside to see what was happening. But like the other guests, she was wearing high heels. She barely ran two steps before stumbling to the ground.

At this moment, it was the Blue Whale Club’s owner who remained the most composed. He shouted, “It could be an earthquake! Evacuate the guests!”

Execution Bureau officers stationed at every exit rushed upstairs. No matter what was happening, their priority was to ensure the Patriarch’s safety.

Only the Patriarch himself could witness the impending disaster firsthand. Chisei stood in the cold, damp gale, staring out toward the sea.

Dark clouds surged in, spreading like a blanket. Within seconds, the once-clear night sky was smothered by rolling storm clouds. Torrential rain poured down.

The moonlight vanished entirely. Thousands of households turned on their lights, the city trembling in the face of the looming catastrophe.

Everything pointed to an unprecedented anomaly.

Chisei’s bones crackled as he fully entered his Dragon Bone state, becoming the unparalleled Emperor once more. He drew Kumogiri and Dōjigiri, kicked open the wooden door, and stepped onto the balcony, standing amidst the howling storm.

And then, he saw it.

The ocean was surging forward.

A towering wall of water, a hundred meters high, advanced with a deafening roar. Everything in its path—cars, trees, sheds—was lifted atop its crest. Multi-story buildings looked like mere pebbles on a beach before its sheer magnitude.

Chisei could hardly believe his eyes.

That was not a force he could resist.

It was a cataclysm.

The colossal tide advanced until it reached an elevated commercial district about a kilometer from Takamagahara, where it met resistance. Tens of millions of tons of seawater shattered into foamy torrents, flooding the streets of Shinjuku. A mighty river carved its way through skyscrapers, submerging multiple floors in mere moments. Giant LED billboards atop high-rises still flickered, displaying advertisements for Mitsui, Mitsubishi, Fuji, and Canon.

Prosperity and apocalypse stood side by side, as if mocking the fragility of human civilization before an ancient dragon’s wrath.

Meanwhile, the Tokyo Meteorological Agency had plunged into total chaos.

For decades, Tokyo had never experienced such extreme geological and atmospheric upheaval within half an hour.

Printers spewed out reams of data uncontrollably. Chief scientist Miyamoto Ze snatched up the reports in a frenzy. The graphs were so steep they exceeded the scale’s limits. Sensors installed on the offshore seabed had already lost their ability to track the tsunami.

The first to detect the tsunami had been an American spy satellite.

This satellite was intended for monitoring Japan and its neighboring countries. The Japanese government had protested its use numerous times, but this time, it delivered intelligence critical to Tokyo’s survival—the offshore volcanic belt had erupted with unprecedented intensity. A tsunami shockwave, unlike anything previously recorded, was hurtling toward Tokyo.

The towering waves obliterated all buoys and monitoring equipment deployed by the Tokyo Meteorological Agency, leaving them completely unaware of the impending catastrophe. Just minutes earlier, they had been sipping coffee, discussing the city’s recent bizarre weather patterns.

The breakwaters near Tokyo Bay were utterly useless against a tsunami of this scale. The waves breached the land, surging inland at 80 kilometers per hour. By the time the third wavefront reached Shinjuku, one-third of Tokyo was already underwater.

Minato Ward had turned to ruins.

A ten-thousand-ton cargo ship was swept in by the unprecedented tsunami, crashing through the breakwater. Houses were lifted and tossed in clusters. The transoceanic bridge collapsed. Tens of thousands of shipping containers were swallowed by the tides.

Reports from other districts had yet to come in—but they would be meaningless.

The disaster’s intensity was still rising.

Tokyo, the giant, was bleeding out.

At this moment, all disaster relief measures were futile. Even the Meteorological Agency could no longer predict what would come next.

Was prayer the only option left?

Series Navigation

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