Chapter 129: "Training"

There are roughly two types of people on Earth right now.

There is the small minority who believe the Earth is in grave danger and nearing its end. Then there is the vast majority who remain oblivious, living out their ordinary, mundane lives.

Those who sense the danger have fled using whatever means they could muster. Yet, their disappearance goes unnoticed by the masses, who continue their daily routines until the day their phones start buzzing incessantly with evacuation alerts.

"Monster Disaster Warning."

Monsters?

The average office worker is terrified. Staring at the blinking monster alert on their screen, they see the designated incident site is right near their own office building. Why are there monsters in this world? Is this some kind of prank text? Why does it seem like they are the only one in the entire office panicking? Why are the two colleagues beside them so calm?

The colleague at the next desk seems perfectly accustomed to this. He tells his coworker to pack up quickly while simultaneously hitting Ctrl+S on his keyboard several times to save his half-finished document. With practiced efficiency, he gathers his briefcase, grabs his panicked coworker, and pulls him toward the exit.

And so, the ordinary humans are swept along by the extraordinary humans and aliens living among them, directed toward nearby shelters. The disaster alerts always list the closest safe zones, guiding those in the affected area to safety.

"…!"

On the way to the shelter, that office worker’s worldview shatters. He witnesses a giant beast rampaging through the city. It is real—a monster as tall as a building, or perhaps even a head taller. What is this? A prehistoric dinosaur revived by some mad scientist?

Wait, what about that red giant? Is that some kind of 3D projection for a commercial event?

Hiding in the dim shelter, he tries to be afraid, but fear is an emotion difficult to sustain alone, especially when only three or four people out of a whole crowd are scared, while everyone else remains emotionally composed. The shelter has stable communications and internet access; with the world still at their fingertips, the modern sense of helplessness fades. Some people even open their laptops to continue working, argue with clients online, or scroll through short videos on their phones.

Calm is more contagious than fear. Seeing those around them acting as if this were just another day, the anxious ones eventually find themselves settling down as well.

Soon, the monster disaster alert is lifted. A green notification appears, detailing the duration of the event: 2 minutes and 20 seconds.

People emerge from the shelter to find the police already on the scene, cordoning off the damaged buildings with yellow tape.

It must be said, the damage is quite severe. The office worker clutches his briefcase, joining the crowd to gawk from behind the police line. A twenty-story office building has been reduced to just six floors.

Rescue dogs scramble over the rubble, and ambulances stand ready to whisk away the injured. Word spreads that some people were too stubborn to evacuate and ended up buried when this building was destroyed. Seeing this, the crowd becomes even more determined: the moment an alert sounds, they will run immediately. No one wants to end up a corpse beneath the ruins.

If the first time was panic, and the second was a shock, then by the third or fourth time—in just over ten days—everyone had grown accustomed to it.

Habit is a terrifying thing.

In areas far from the disaster zones, people even began setting up telescopes to watch the action, witnessing fighter jets battling monsters, monsters fighting monsters, and the giant fighting monsters.

"Is... is this really going to be okay?"

Officer Sakura leans anxiously against the large monitoring screen in the command center, watching the shifting public opinion.

"It will be fine, don't worry, Officer Sakura."

Watching the veteran officer’s jittery behavior, Captain Sakomizu smiles. He sits upright at the table, coffee in hand, speaking in a tone so casual it sounds like he is stating an obvious fact. Yet, his voice carries a certain magnetism that makes those who hear it instinctively believe him.

Still, for some reason, the veteran officer keeps pacing back and forth, fretting over every little detail.

Sakomizu wonders if there are certain beings in this world who possess a resistance to his "affinity."

It doesn't matter, though. Captain Sakomizu is self-aware. While his orders are indeed bizarre, the veteran officer, despite his worries, executes them with impeccable precision, following every instruction to the letter.

Shingo Sakomizu watches as the veteran officer uses a calm, composed voice to delegate tasks over the radio, only to have that composure vanish the moment he hangs up, returning to his frantic state.

The sense of déjà vu is truly nostalgic.

"Officer Sakura, would you like some coffee?"

At these words, Officer Sakura recoils tactically.

He knows his superior loves coffee—specifically the kind of concentrated black espresso that, if downed in one go, could spike one's heart rate to 280 and trigger caffeine poisoning.

Well, that kind of coffee is meant to be sipped—just a tiny drop at a time, making one small cup last an entire afternoon.

"It's sweet. I added plenty of milk."

The Captain smiles, handing Officer Sakura a cup of coffee with extra milk—a latte.

He himself loves concentrated black coffee, but he doesn't have many companions who share the taste.

Officer Sakura stiffly holds the coffee cup as if it were a ticking time bomb, though his attention remains fixed on the giant screen on the wall.

"Now everyone knows. About the universe."

"Yes, they were going to find out sooner or later. It's time to start adapting."

At this, Captain Sakomizu’s gaze grows cold.

He had easily persuaded the Division of Unknown Affairs to lift the restrictions on the information because the Division had been blackmailed by an anonymous party. The blackmailer had threatened to leak the truth in exchange for an exorbitant hush-money fee.

More troublesome was the fact that the Division’s information department, staffed by several geniuses who could easily handle superpowered aliens, had failed to trace the blackmailer’s identity.

The Division split into two factions: one insisted on hunting down the blackmailer, while the other suggested they simply release the information themselves in a controlled, gentle manner.

It was then that Shingo Sakomizu had arrived—dropped in from nowhere, without a file, no one knowing his background. Yet, he had the backing of headquarters and was placed directly in charge of frontline operations. He supported the faction advocating for a gentle disclosure. Officer Sakura had expected a major confrontation to settle the argument, but to his surprise, the new commander easily persuaded the investigation faction. The atmosphere in the meeting became harmonious, and his proposal passed unanimously.

Then, they began preparing for desensitization.

This included, but was not limited to, the Division recruiting a massive number of volunteers from all walks of life. The focus was on employees working in downtown office buildings, with a quota of one volunteer for every three people. They ended up with a vast team of volunteers, consisting of both humans and aliens.

An abandoned building owned by the Division was temporarily converted into a classroom. Over eight thousand people sat in more than fifty makeshift classrooms throughout the building. Captain Sakomizu personally gave the "training" lecture, which was live-streamed to the other rooms. The live stream was merely a formality; the goal was simply to ensure their presence.

Though they called it "training," the effect was akin to brainwashing—it was nothing short of miraculous.

In total, over six hundred thousand volunteers were recruited. They didn't have to do much—just go about their daily lives. When a monster attacked, they were simply tasked with guiding those around them to shelters, calming the crowd, and maintaining order.

Captain Sakomizu has every confidence in these "trained" volunteers.