Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week-Chapter 436 - 434 Miracle_1

Two soft sounds indicated the bathroom door was locked. The villa’s bathroom was much larger than the one in the previous apartment and even featured an excessively fancy multifunctional toilet.

Aozawa was here, not to use the toilet, but to use his Fate Weaving ability. He raised his right hand. Threads emerged from outside the bathroom, penetrating the walls before converging in front of him, weaving into a book inscribed with destinies.

Then, a pen materialized.

Unaided by any breeze, the Book of Destiny flipped open to a blank page. Aozawa, holding the pen in his right hand, began to write about David’s upcoming fate: "After David is shot..."

As he wrote, he used his other hand to reply to Phoenix Academy Maggie’s messages.

She seemed to be on her period; every sentence crackled with hostility, like an irritated cat with its fur bristling.

If her owner wanted to pet her, he’d have to brace for sharp claws, adopt a soothing posture, approach slowly, and gently smooth down the ruffled fur bit by bit.

"The person who upset you is definitely no good," he typed.

After sending that message, he switched to the class president’s chat interface to talk with her.

For Aozawa, handling two or three things at once was as natural as eating or drinking. Indeed, how could he dare to have a harem without the ability to give them all equal attention?

He chose to have a harem precisely because he didn’t want to make them cry; he was determined to ensure their happiness.

Once the message was sent, he finished writing David’s destiny and closed the Book of Destiny.

The pen and book dissolved back into threads, retracting outside the moment he deactivated his ability.

As long as a fate was inscribed within it, the Book of Destiny would continue to exert its effects even after the Fate Weaving ability was deactivated.

Only when the described destiny was fulfilled would it vanish from the book, leaving the person unprotected by fate—just like David, who had just become mayor.

Aozawa returned to the living room and turned the LCD TV back on.

From the window, Morimoto Chiyoda’s voice called out, "Bring this plate of meat to the table."

"Okay," he replied, turning his head. Just then, his phone DINGED with a new message.

「New York.」

At Times Square New York, deafening gunshots instantly turned the crowd’s jeers and curses into screams of panic.

Not everyone carries a gun when they go out; most people who purchase firearms choose to keep them at home.

This was primarily to avoid pulling the trigger in a fit of street rage and subsequently paying the price of imprisonment.

Aside from those with a genuine need for firearms, this was common practice for many working individuals.

The blast of a shotgun sent the hundreds of thousands of people at the scene into a chaotic frenzy.

Those on stage also panicked. No one dared approach David, fearing the shooter would target them next.

If that happened, they would be the ones dead.

The guards only feigned action; David’s agenda, in some respects, also impinged upon their interests.

In New York, who could truly distinguish between black and white?

The journalists, however, were exceptionally excited, focusing their cameras either on David on stage or on the chaotic crowd.

Their footage at this moment would generate immense traffic; the newly inaugurated mayor shot on his first day—this was explosive news no reporter would dare miss.

After firing the shot, the gang member swiftly discarded his shotgun on the ground and hurried away.

He wore a pair of randomly acquired gloves, unconcerned about fingerprints; his only goal was to escape the scene amidst the confusion.

With his African American complexion, by melting into a crowd of fellow African Americans, he would quickly become impossible to identify.

In the midst of such chaos, no one noticed the dark clouds in the sky parting as if by an invisible hand of God, revealing the twinkling stars and a full moon brighter than ever before.

The mayor’s assistant watched from a distance, his expression complicated as he gazed at the figure lying on the stage. He knew that if David hadn’t pushed him aside moments earlier, David could certainly have dodged the shotgun blast. Alternatively, David could have pulled him along to safety. But that would have increased David’s own risk of being shot. The fact that David hadn’t done so, and now lay fallen on the stage, further reinforced the assistant’s conviction.

This world is cruel. Even those who claim to be favored by the Lord, if they cannot adapt to its rules, will fall and quietly await death. In this world of survival of the fittest, kindness to others is irresponsibility to oneself. The Lord on high does not save anyone.

Thinking this, the assistant felt justified in remaining to watch David take his last breath.

It was at that precise moment he noticed something unusual.

The moonlight pouring from the sky seemed to exhibit the Tyndall effect, forming a distinct beam.

An incredibly pure, snow-white light shone upon David’s body.

"What?!"

The assistant tilted his head up, the worldview he had constructed over many years shattering under the Lord’s hammer.

The chaos at Times Square New York gradually subsided.

The gang member who had fired the shot noticed something amiss. People’s movements had slowed; they stood like statues, foolishly staring in one direction as if fixated on something.

He hesitated, then subconsciously glanced back.

He froze.

A beam of light descended from the full moon, stretching down over Times Square New York to rest upon the stage.

This was New York! The city where stars were usually invisible, now stripped of its gloomy clouds, revealed a sky teeming with stars. And the moon—it was fuller than any he had seen in his entire life, as if the Lord Himself were gazing down upon the earth.

Its breathtaking, sacred beauty struck immense fear into the gang member’s heart.

From within the holy light, a figure gradually emerged. Its face was indistinct, only a general silhouette discernible, but behind it, twelve wings unfurled, obscuring the advertising screens on either side.

"Gabriel?!"

The gang member’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. He desperately wished he could retract his earlier bravado. If Jesus Himself appeared, he would only kneel and devoutly kiss His feet.

If he, a hardened criminal, reacted this way, one could only imagine the response of devout believers.

CLANG! The Bible in the Cardinal’s hand slammed onto the lectern.

He had been entrusted with such a high office, yet in his heart, he had never truly believed in the Lord. In fact, most who rose to the rank of Cardinal did not believe; they merely treated faith as a business. Did the Celestial Kingdom truly exist? It did!

Having witnessed this, the Cardinal no longer harbored the slightest doubt.

The Twelve-winged angel cradled David, and within its holy palms, the unceasing flow of blood stopped.

This wasn’t Aozawa granting the Angel healing abilities. He had simply written: ’The Angel lifts David, and under the watchful eyes of the crowd, his gunshot wounds heal.’ Then: ’The Angel sets David down and vanishes from Times Square New York.’ This depiction essentially turned the Angel into a powerful, single-use healer. It was similar to how a Ghost could conjure gales, or how Chainsaw Mary could emit waves like a telephone signal, bypassing carriers to call anyone. This Angel could sacrifice its own existence in exchange for healing someone’s injuries.

David’s eyes opened. Like everyone else present, his heart pounded with shock. He felt the light enveloping him was exceptionally warm, reminiscent of an infant resting in its mother’s womb.

The Angel placed him on the stage. Then, like a dying firefly, its holy light dimmed and faded away completely.

The buckshot pellets from David’s wounds fell onto the stage with soft CLINKING sounds.

As the Angel vanished, dark clouds once more swallowed the stars; even the moon disappeared into the gloomy overcast.

New York’s night sky lost its fleeting stellar brilliance, reverting to the familiar, clouded expanse everyone knew.

David scanned the crowd, but from his vantage point, he couldn’t spot the gang member who had attacked him.

There were simply too many people.

But he had no intention of searching. He stepped back up to the podium and declared, "The Lord will forgive all sins, provided those who have sinned sincerely repent.

"God loves all people.

"The survival of the fittest and the boundless freedom long touted by capitalism—it is time for these to end, here and now!

"God teaches us to strive for good.

"God has always stood with the multitude of impoverished people, not with the capitalists.

"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Celestial Kingdom.

"Amen."

This time, no one jeered at David’s words. Instead, the crowd responded in unison, "Amen!"

Many were even weeping tears of joy, elated to have witnessed a divine miracle.

Numerous onlookers were simply stunned. The rampant online speculation about a Different World and Monsters had always been dismissed by New York City citizens as baseless propaganda from The White House, much like the "Star Project" of old. Could it all be real?

They were dumbfounded.

On stage, David’s heart was heavy. He knew the trial bestowed upon him by the Lord was exceptionally challenging, a task he could not complete alone. He had to unite the majority, to work together with them to transform New York into a true city of dreams where everyone was treated equally. It was an immensely daunting undertaking. Yet, recalling his past misdeeds, he believed that only by accomplishing such a monumental feat could he atone for his original sins.

His heart and gaze filled with unwavering determination.

「Setagaya District, Phoenix Academy Residence.」

Having finished her classes for the day, Phoenix Academy Maggie was chatting with Aozawa—or rather, venting her dissatisfaction.

Someone’s recent actions had left her unbearably agitated, so her words naturally carried a sting.

Of course, she also understood there should be a limit to such remarks; she couldn’t constantly treat Aozawa as an emotional dumping ground. Venting occasionally could be playful; constant venting was simply madness.

So, she decided to soften her tone.

"No one really annoyed me," she typed. "It’s just that running around with my mother all day has left me physically and mentally exhausted."

After sending that, Phoenix Academy Maggie quickly added, "Aozawa, I feel much better after chatting with you. Thanks."

Aozawa had patiently listened to her. Naturally, she should offer some praise; only then could she expect the same supportive feedback the next time she was in a bad mood.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Phoenix Academy Maggie turned her head. "Is dinner ready?"

Miwa Kazuki stood outside. "Young Miss, a miracle has occurred in New York. I’ve recorded a video. Would you like to see it?"

Phoenix Academy Maggie paused, slightly taken aback. She was currently chatting with Aozawa. Judging by his response times, it was impossible for him to be in New York. What was going on?

A massive question mark bloomed in her mind.

"Bring it here! Let me see!"

Phoenix Academy Maggie quickly scrambled out of bed and hurried to the door.