Chapter 0
Chapter 0
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 0
Chapter Title: Ep. 0
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Where should I even start?
If I had to guess, it all began with what happened yesterday.
I was wasting time at home when I got an email.
｢Notice to all you fans of Space Survival: Our development team is recruiting closed beta testers for the sequel. If you're interested in participating, please click the acceptance button below.｣
Space Survival.
It's a survival RPG where you pick one of the countless races scattered across the vast universe and fight to survive, explore, and evolve.
What hooked me was the "countless races" part.
I've loved aliens, monsters, and all sorts of exotic creatures ever since I was a kid.
Space Survival was a game that brought all my fantasies to life.
Sometimes I'd play as a Metallic Gremlin, ripping apart human ships and devouring them. Other times, I'd be a mutant monster massacring enemies on the ground. Or I'd lead a hive mind collective to conquer entire planets.
I'd tried playing every nightmare-inducing space critter out there, but only one race kept me coming back.
The "Unidentified Aggressive Space Morph," or UASM for short.
I called it the A-Morph, smashing the "A" from Aggressive and "Morph" together.
The A-Morph was a space monster inspired by the creature from that old classic flick Alien, assimilating victims' genetic info to evolve and grow stronger.
No limits to how powerful it could get—it seemed like a total cheat race at first glance. But its insane survival difficulty and innate risks made it infamous.
What that means is, yeah, it gets stronger over time, but it's so weak at the start that you can't do jack.
In survival games, the key is outlasting everyone to snowball your resources and tech. The A-Morph flips that on its head. You keep dying early, so you miss growth opportunities. No growth means you're helpless and die more. Rinse and repeat.
Couldn't you just play smart and survive longer? Nope. It had one fatal flaw that made it hellish.
No communication or alliances with other races.
Lore-wise, A-Morphs see other races as live food or gene sacks to harvest.
And the devs baked that right into the game.
In a multiplayer game packed with players, no chat or co-op? That's a massive risk, no explanation needed.
Weak early game, no teamwork. Those flaws synergized into a nightmare, making A-Morph the worst fringe pick in Space Survival.
Hell, community rumors even claimed the "SM" in UASM stood for Sadist (devs) / Masochist (players), and it became canon.
So why was this trash race my absolute favorite? Simple.
The freedom to evolve and power up however I wanted, based on my choices and will. That pulled me in.
(Not that my love for Alien didn't help.)
As they say, the player who enjoys it most comes out on top. I was one of the veteran sweats who'd conquered the galaxy on A-Morph—highest difficulty achievement unlocked.
Community called me an honorary A-Morph, xenophile, Morph simp. 'Nuff said.
But no king's reign lasts forever.
Real life forced me to quit.
(Who even gets held back a year these days... twice in a row, no less.)
Locked in my room gaming nonstop? No surprise there.
Had to graduate eventually, so I quit cold turkey to cram for school. That's why I had no clue about the sequel.
Anyway, Space Survival is my all-time fave, my life pick. Sequel beta? Any gamer worth their salt would smash accept.
I did.
(And this is the result.)
I lifted my right "second" leg to scratch at my "shell-covered forehead."
Scratching my back next—left "fourth" leg this time. As I raked it, a translucent shed clung to my claw tip.
If you're wondering how a human has four pairs of legs, here's your answer:
(I'm not human.)
Staring down at my first foreleg—the one "writing" this—a sigh escaped me. My jaw's sensory organ fluttered in sync.
My "hand" looked nothing like a mammal's.
Long, slender, three-segmented like a spider or arthropod leg, ending in two cute claws acting as fingers.
I wished it wasn't mine, but the claws wiggled right on cue, like "ignore us at your peril."
Follow the leg down: snake- or lizard-like body. Hard shell plating on back and belly—not very flexible. Flanks were softer flesh, with three more pairs of identical legs sprouting out.
Finally, a thick, flexible tail from my rear, tipped with a sharp stinger—my only weapon.
I know what this small, freakish thing is.
My beloved Space Survival race: the A-Morph.
Beings of infinite potential, the ones that made me overlord of the galaxy.
...A hatchling.
In this sprawling universe crawling with monsters and transcendent beings, I've possessed the weakest damn creature there is.