Chapter 107
Chapter 107
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 107
Chapter Title: Shadows in the Flesh-Flayed Forest
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"Su... Captain! Static... emergency... st-st-static... to... click."
"What's wrong with this thing now?"
The pirate pilot in the cockpit slammed the suddenly dead radio.
He smacked it a few times and tried rebooting it, but the communicator was completely busted and wouldn't respond at all.
"Looks like the guys sent it."
He didn't know what it said, but it was clearly a message from his buddies who'd gone to check out Camp 17.
The pilot called out to his fellow pilot outside, who was prepping to move the transport.
"Hey, we got word from the crew. Time to roll out—hop on quick."
"Just gotta finish this smoke first."
"We gotta go now!"
"Jeez, fine."
"Make sure you seal the hatch proper when you come in."
"Yeah, yeah."
Confirming his smoking buddy had grumbled his way aboard, the pilot readied for takeoff.
Just as the transport was about to lift off, the ship jolted hard, like it'd smacked into something.
"What the hell?"
Rushing to check the warning lights, the pilot saw the cargo bay door at the rear hadn't latched shut.
"That dumbass—I told him to close the damn door."
The pilot flipped on the intercom to yell at his crewmate aboard.
"We're taking off, so shut the door tight and get your ass in here."
Static...
"I said shut the door!"
No reply, but the cargo bay indicator flipped from red to green. The door had closed.
"Should've done that sooner, idiot. Hold on tight—we're going!"
The pilot yanked the stick, and the transport shot skyward.
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"Y-yes, sir. It's true! Skinned and hung from the trees... Huh? Oh, roger. Sending pics now."
The pirate reporting to HQ via radio activated the tiny camera mounted on his helmet.
The lantern-attached cam swiveled, beaming footage of the corpses on the ground back to base.
With the walker’s winch cable hooked to a massive trunk, hauling the bodies up was a breeze.
"Wh-what kind of demon does shit like this...?"
Like any Space Dogs cartel, the Humanity pirates had their share of brutality. Just before arriving here, they'd done unspeakable horrors to innocent wolf-folk.
But even they had never dreamed of flaying humans alive and stringing them up in trees.
While his buddy filmed and reported, a sharp-eyed pirate inspected the blood-soaked bodies.
"...Blood's still warm. They haven't been dead long."
Meaning the sick bastard responsible could be lurking nearby.
"F-fuck... Didn't the bio-scanner pick up jack shit?"
"...Won't detect unregistered profiles."
The Humanity cartel had cataloged nearly every gene on Saintopia-02 continent, but outsiders? No dice.
The thought of an unknown enemy—a man-flaying monster—prowling close made their knees buckle.
"When's the transport getting here?!"
"Called it already, any sec... Oh, there it is!"
Branches and leaves thrashed wildly overhead. A deafening roar shook their ears as the transport's lights pierced the deep forest gloom.
"Alright, let's move out."
No clearings around big enough to land except back at Camp 17. The pirates figured it'd head there, naturally.
"Huh?"
"What's it doing?"
The steady-flying transport wobbled, then nosedived fast—like it was gonna slam the ground.
And it was heading straight for them.
As the distance shrank, their faces drained white.
"Scatter!"
Pirates dove behind trees and rocks.
The walker tried to lurch away too late. The plummeting transport crushed it flat without mercy.
The wreckage erupted in flames, fire licking up the giant trunk. The boom echoed through the woods, startling bird-like critters into the sky in a frenzy.
"Wh-what the hell just happened?!"
"Our ride!"
Safe behind cover, the pirates gawked in horror at the blazing ruins.
With their evac smashed, despair hit hard—they wailed in fury.
But their bad luck wasn't over.
Something pitch-black burst from the inferno and pounced a walker.
Vastly bigger than the machine, it toppled the walker without a fight back.
Then it stabbed the cockpit pirate with a tail spine—long as a spear. No scream; instant death.
Having wrecked the walker, it bounded into the forest depths.
It all happened so fast, the pirates just stared blankly. Only after it vanished did they snap out of it, screaming and cursing.
"Aaaargh!"
"Fuuuuck!"
"What the shit was that thing?!"
"Hell if I know!"
Losing the transport and two walkers in a blink threw them into full panic.
"Th-this place is too dangerous!"
"Run for Camp 17!"
Their heaviest firepower? Two plasma launcher walkers.
This forest crawled with threats only walkers could handle.
Now, with an unknown attacker plus local beasts on the prowl—not to mention the blood reek from the skinned corpses—monsters would swarm soon. They bolted.
Eight pirates dashed between colossal trees.
Countless eyes gleamed from the canopy, tracking them.
"Camp's not far! Just a bit more...!"
The lead pirate never finished. A long, snake-like thing dropped from above, snatching his head and yanking him up.
Those behind watched helplessly as he vanished into the branches.
"Ambush...!"
Before they could freak, another serpent struck, hauling off a pirate. A sickening crack of bones, then blood rained down.
"Tight formation!"
"Gaaah!"
The six survivors yanked Gauss rifles, hosing the treetops.
Shadows of big shapes darted between dark branches.
"Damn it! Can't see shit!"
They poured fire at glimpses, but it shrugged them off, still moving.
And the treetop threats weren't their only worry.
"Aaaah! Help!"
"Eek?!"
Dozens of bugs latched onto a pirate focused upward. Palm-sized horrors with white fangs gnawed his reinforced suit.
"Gyaaah!"
Their upgraded mid-grade armor held, but the biting pain on exposed skin? Unignorable.
"I got you!"
Another pirate stopped shooting to help. Last words he spoke.
"Watch out!"
"Huh?"
A red serpent snatched him skyward.
As others swung to fire, spines flew from the dark, piercing throats.
"Gah!"
"Urk!"
They staggered like drunks and dropped.
Two pirates left standing.
No hesitation—they ditched guns and sprinted for camp.
Camp offered no real safety, but panic left no room for reason.
Heavy footfalls chased them from behind.
Faint at first, like distant thunder, the steps boomed closer in seconds—right on their heels.
That pressure broke one; he tripped on a root, sprawling.
"H-help!"
"...Been fun while it lasted."
"You son of a bi—aaargh!"
His buddy's scream faded behind as he ran.
"Huff... huff... huff."
He'd pounded pavement forever, but no camp in sight.
Branches rustled ominously overhead; every tree looked identical.
The whole forest seemed to mock him, daring an escape.
But stopping? No way—the thing would catch up.
That thought hit as a furry mass tackled him from behind.
He faceplanted; eight legs pinned his back.
"D-don't! Mercy!"
Begging the unseen foe got him razor fangs instead.
Fangs sank into his neck. Savage venom surged through veins.
"Kaaaaah!"
Agony like melting veins tore his throat raw in screams.
The nightstalker pinning him sensed the prey neutralized and purred satisfaction.
The instant it bit, something seized its head.
"Yelp?"
Deal... wi...th...
That alien screech from the woods was its last thought.
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'Why'd you eat that?'
I eyed the pirate ahead while holding the half-smashed nightstalker's corpse.
'Dead.'
Too bad—the pirate had succumbed to the venom.
Bodies I didn't kill personally counted as gene samples only.
Meaning predation effects barely triggered on them.
Even with Hunter's Tableau, no duplicate traits meant transcendent material only—no bonuses.
'Forests are a pain.'
Too many rivals; dawdle and prey gets snatched like this.
I munched the nightstalker to cool my irritation.
'Mmm, not bad.'
Intact organs made it like a pepperoni croissant—spicy, unique bite from venom glands or acids. Flavorful.
'Tasty enough to let this one slide.'
Even if he was dead anyway.
Devoured, I grabbed the pirate corpse.
No predation? Use it to terrify foes.
'Skinning tactic works IRL too.'
In extreme-freedom Space Survival, butchering yielded hides from rare beasts.
Used for armor or quests.
'...Not usually for terror, though.'
Aimorphs could skin too, but no need—gene essence first.
I used it 'cause it worked for hunting.
No debuffs on players, but mental whammy? Exposed muscle didn't thrill most.
'Streamers hated it especially.'
Forced their ratings up, my fault.
This trick won me fights before—even against four clans on a planet.
Overuse dulled the fear, so I quit.
Game? Maybe flop. Reality? Foes freaked at the gore, easy picks.
'More pirates left... Hm?'
Shouldering the body, a light blinked on the helmet—tiny recording cam.
'Perfect.'
Combat claw gripped the helmet, squeezed. Metal crumpled; pirate's head pulped, blood oozed.
'They saw me on cam. They'll come hunting.'
Dozens of pirate camps in this forest.
Hunting each? Tedious. Plus, their heavy weapons in traps? Risky for me.
'Normally I'd hunt them, but not this time.'
Make 'em walk into my traps.
They saw the bodies hung up—alert maxed.
Desperate to catch me.
Sure, if they swarmed with big guns from all sides, bad for me. But impossible.
'Hard to fly transports here. Limited landing zones.'
Even their scouts landed far and hoofed it.
To hunt me: land at set spots, then trek on foot. Predictable.
Unless they glass the forest from a cruiser—mine to control.
'Time to prep.'
Grabbed pirate and nightstalker corpses, moved out.
Behind, tooth fairy swarm dragged paralyzed pirates, trailing.
"......"
They scraped along, eyes begging escape—till they saw me casually crunch a buddy's head like a snack. Quiet now.
Night's short.
Walkers they brought, camp tools, pirates themselves.
Tons of traps to rig with 'em.
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"......"
Humanity underboss Dillon's makeshift HQ camp.
The command tent hung heavy with silence.
Blame: footage from the Camp 17 scout team.
Stone-cold, Dillon replayed it several times before summoning his aide.
"Pack my gear. Round up the 30 best fighters."
"...No word to the boss?"
"Fuck that—I'm in charge here, yeah? Think she'll let this slide?"
Dillon was boss's pet Cult, but not immune to screw-ups.
Her? Saw all underlings as disposables.
Dillon? Fancy toy at best.
Word of camp trouble reaches her? He's out.
"Wiped the wolf villages nearby anyway. Detour to squash this mangy cur? No issue."
"Got it."
Aide gone, Dillon hit play again.
Enemy type? Attack methods? Habits? Intel grab.
"Dare mock me? Know who I am?"
Boss's plaything or not, Dillon was Humanity cartel underboss.
Expert beast-slayer.
Gritting teeth, he looped the vid till his custom gear arrived.
Still, unease lingered.
That forest phantom slaughtering pirates.
Dunno why, but it reeked like the boss.