Wilson's face instantly turned pale, and he subconsciously took a step back, his leather shoes making a harsh scraping sound on the floor.
As a seasoned diplomat, he had met countless dangerous individuals, but he had never felt such pure killing intent – it was an almost tangible pressure that made his lungs feel as if an invisible hand was squeezing them.
"You, are you joking?" Wilson forced a professional smile, but his voice trembled uncontrollably.
Allen slowly approached, each step like a stomp on Wilson's heart: "Do I look like I'm joking?"
Outside the window, the sunlight was suddenly obscured by dark clouds, and the entire Tokyo plunged into gloom. Wilson's gaze was involuntarily drawn to Allen's crimson eyes, where it seemed blood was flowing.
"I, I need to consult the President," Wilson stammered, his hand already reaching for the emergency communicator in his inner suit pocket.
Allen suddenly appeared before him: "Tell your President I'm giving him 24 hours to prepare."
Wilson's pupils contracted violently: "Prepare… for what?"
"Didn't I tell you? If you don't listen to me properly, I'll find it very troublesome, eh?" Allen said with a smile, patting his shoulder. This simple action made the ambassador's knees buckle, and he knelt before Allen. "For war, of course."
He released his Psychokinesis, and two agents who had been blocked outside rushed in, their guns pointed directly at Allen: "Step away from Mr. Wilson immediately!"
Allen didn't even glance at them; he just snapped his fingers lightly.
"Bang! Bang!"
With two muffled thuds, the two agents were thrown backward as if struck by an invisible heavy hammer, crashing heavily against the corridor wall and falling unconscious.
Wilson's lips trembled, cold sweat soaking his shirt: "You, you'll regret this. The United States possesses the strongest military in the world!"
Allen suddenly laughed: "That's exactly what I'm looking forward to." He turned and walked towards the French windows, "Now, get out."
Wilson, as if granted a great pardon, stumbled towards the door, but just as he was about to leave, he heard Allen's voice again:
"Oh, and Ambassador."
Wilson froze in place.
"Remember to tell the Prime Minister of Neon," Allen's voice carried a hint of amusement, "His time is also 24 hours."
When Wilson stumbled out of the apartment building, it had already started raining. He tremblingly dialed the White House hotline: "Mr. President! We have big trouble…"
At the same time, Allen stood by the window, looking at Tokyo in the rain. His Psychokinesis perception network captured the movements of the entire city.
The CCG was urgently mobilizing all Investigators, Self-Defense Forces armored vehicles were gathering in Tokyo, and even Maritime Self-Defense Force ships began to approach Tokyo Bay.
"Now this is interesting," he murmured softly to himself.
Suddenly, his perception network picked up a familiar aura. Arima Kishou was standing downstairs, his white hair particularly striking in the rain. Allen's lips curved slightly: "He arrived so quickly."
Arima Kishou looked up at the floor where Allen was, their gazes seemingly penetrating the rain and walls, directly meeting.
"Come up," Allen's voice directly echoed in Arima Kishou's mind.
A moment later, the apartment door opened again. Arima Kishou walked in, his IXA already repaired and now resting quietly in its Quinque case.
"You are declaring war on an entire nation," Arima said, getting straight to the point, his voice so calm it was unlike someone discussing an impending war.
Allen turned around: "You didn't come all this way just to tell me that, did you?"
Arima Kishou's grey eyes met Allen's: "I came to confirm something."
"Speak."
"Do you truly know the Washuu Family's secret?"
Allen smiled: "More than you imagine." He slowly walked towards Arima, "Including the origin of your Sunlit Garden and the true purpose of the V Organization."
Arima Kishou's fingers tightened slightly: "Prove it to me."
"The children of the Sunlit Garden are all artificially bred half-humans," Allen's voice was light, yet every word struck Arima like a heavy hammer, "Their purpose is to create sufficiently powerful cleansing tools to eliminate disobedient ghouls and maintain the Washuu Family's rule."
Arima Kishou's expression fluctuated for the first time: "How do you know all this?"
"I know even more." Allen opened the refrigerator and poured ice into a glass of water, "For example, you've actually suspected the Washuu Family's true identity for a long time, but you just haven't found the evidence."
Arima Kishou was silent for a moment: "What do you want me to do?"
Allen drained the ice water, the glass spinning gently between his fingers: "Use all your strength against me. That's the only thing you can do for the Washuu Family."
Arima Kishou's IXA Quinque case made a mechanical clicking sound as three rotating blades unfolded from within, their blue light particularly dazzling in the dim, rainy room.
"You know this won't hurt you," Arima's voice remained calm, but the knuckles of his hand gripping the handle were white.
"But it's a matter of attitude." Allen casually tossed the glass into the air; it suddenly froze at its highest point, suspended mid-air between them by Psychokinesis, "Let me see the resolve of the CCG's White Reaper."
IXA's blades cut out blue arcs, but were stopped by an invisible barrier three inches from Allen's throat. Arima Kishou's grey pupils contracted sharply, and with a flick of his wrist, the Quinque switched to its ranged mode. Dozens of poisoned projectiles shot from different angles towards vital points around Allen.
The glass suspended in the air suddenly shattered, its fragments precisely intercepting every projectile.
Allen was reflected in the fragments, then blurred. The next instant, Arima Kishou felt a chill down his back; Allen's index finger had somehow touched the back of his head.
"You're too fixated on your Quinque." Arima Kishou's IXA suddenly turned uncontrollably, its three blades pressing against his own throat, "Your body is the strongest weapon."
A flash of lightning struck outside the window, illuminating Arima Kishou's pale face. He suddenly released his grip, and the IXA, controlled by Psychokinesis, immediately lost direction and fell to the ground. The moment the metal hit the ground, Arima Kishou's elbow strike had already aimed for Allen's temple, while his knee sharply thrust towards the other's abdomen.
"That's more like it," Allen chuckled, not dodging or evading the incoming attacks. Amidst the muffled impacts, Arima Kishou's pupils contracted violently. He felt as if he had struck a mountain, and the recoil made his arm bones creak under the strain.
Allen grabbed his trembling wrist and twisted it gently, making Arima Kishou instantly lose his balance. Just as he was about to fall, the white-haired Investigator suddenly twisted his body into a flying kick, the hidden blade at the bottom of his military boot extending directly towards Allen's eye.
Allen still did not dodge or evade, taking the blade directly with his eye.
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