Chapter 180
Chapter 180
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 180
Chapter Title: What Do I Look Like to You?
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In Space Survival, just as there are countless intelligent species, there are all sorts of monsters.
From creatures resembling wild animals on Earth to horrifying abominations straight out of a horror flick, and even divine beings that inspire awe.
And some of those creatures possess a special ability.
The power to mimic intelligent beings.
A prime example is the Redmist, a predator that looks like a jaguar with a red mane. Its signature trait is emitting hallucinogenic pheromones that can't be defended against.
Once it spreads those pheromones, it mimics human speech patterns to deceive players. It bases its imitations on specific algorithms that replicate players' conversations and movements, and it's eerily realistic.
The hallucinations alone are hard to shake off, but when the thing acts like a nearby ally, players unfamiliar with Redmists have no choice but to fall for it.
Not for nothing is it the apex predator of jungle planets.
It was so notorious in the game's early days that its nickname was Space Jang-san-beom.
As time passed and veteran players filled the game, fewer fell for its tricks. No matter how advanced the AI, it always looked off to the human eye.
But what if the deceiver were human?
What if it pretended to be a teammate you'd been playing with up until yesterday, knowing exactly what gear they used and what tactics they favored?
Could you really not be fooled?
In other words, the best deceiver of humans is another human.
To be more precise, a human who knows their target well.
And I'm probably the Aimorph who's fooled more people in this game than anyone else.
Then let's get started.
With all preparations complete, I approached the enemy group. They halted their movement as I drew near.
As expected of the Temple Guardians.
They had some skill. Since arriving in this world, few had detected my approach in advance and prepared accordingly.
The sound of blades drawn from Galleron claws and Demolisher wielders chambering their weapons echoed, but no voices followed.
They were probably furiously debating their response via telepathic link.
Perfect.
My goal here wasn't a stealthy ambush. What I wanted was to sow distrust among the enemy ranks.
From beyond the fork in the wide ice passage, I parted my mouth slightly. Near where a human's thyroid gland would be, I had a special organ in my throat.
It was the vocal organ created when the Mimicry trait integrated into my body. It resets with each new gene absorption, allowing me to imitate fresh voices.
The "weapon" I'd used to deceive and devour countless prey activated once more.
"H-Help... me!"
A woman's voice emanated from my mouth.
It belonged to the Cult who'd fled the cavern with the Ice Horror corpse only to be caught by Adhai. I'd taken a bite from the corpse Adhai handed me, specifically for my mimicry organ.
The reason I'd chosen this particular Cult?
She seemed pretty important.
The others had bought her time to escape. That suggested she likely possessed some psychic ability related to information transmission.
It's the same everywhere: the speaker's identity lends credibility and weight. If she was valuable enough for comrades to risk their lives to save, they'd hesitate over there.
"What?!"
"Seronne!"
As I'd predicted, they reacted the moment they heard the voice.
"Everyone, hold!"
Then a woman barked in a thick, commanding tone. From her voice alone, she sounded like the leader of the group.
The agitated Cults froze in unison. Silence followed—telepathic communication, no doubt.
Impressive.
When I mimicked the Cult—no, Seronne—they had two main options: rush to help me, or charge in with suspicions and weapons ready.
I was a target they needed to eliminate immediately, so retreating shouldn't even be on the table.
Yet they chose neither. They maintained their perimeter watch while conversing telepathically, mouths silent.
What did that mean?
They've already heard about me, huh?
The highest-ranking one present, the Cult priest.
He'd clearly briefed them about me, given his veteran status in Space Survival.
Anyone who knows me wouldn't come near.
Not knowing what traps I might have laid. And this was reality, not a game. Death was permanent for me and the enemy players alike. Even with their skills, would they risk it so lightly?
I didn't think so.
That's what I'm counting on.
Cult players wouldn't approach out of trap fears, even knowing I was nearby.
Having heard of the initial raid, he'd likely mapped how far my nest had spread. He'd halted the advance because fighting on nest territory was disadvantageous.
His safest choice was to regroup his subordinates first, then adapt strategy.
As intended, the squad members resumed marching. Their steps seemed a bit hurried, hinting at dissatisfaction.
Can't be helped.
You don't grasp it until it happens to you, and it's not just humans. Cults are the same.
Besides, they were the Temple Guardians, one of the empire's elite ground forces. For such honorable warriors to abandon an ally—or potential enemy—without certainty? It had to rankle.
Time to drive the wedge home.
I propped the female Cult I'd been carrying against the wall.
Heavenly Mother had snapped her neck, leaving her paralyzed. Made the "work" easier.
I flipped her head toward me. Her pupils dilated massively upon meeting my gaze.
Eyes brimming with disbelief, as if she couldn't accept the reality before her.
The moment she saw me, the retreating squad halted.
"What is this?!"
"Lady Aliya! Can you see her now?!"
Soul Link was a powerful technique. In battlefields where information was life, few things rivaled wide visibility.
Being able to check allies' views on demand made operations far smoother.
This let Cults excel in both individual prowess and teamwork.
So, consider the opposite.
What if that information was wrong? Say, what you're seeing doesn't match reality?
"She's still alive!"
"Seronne saved her!"
I looked down at the Cult slumped against the wall, sweat beading coldly on her brow.
Her pupils trembled wildly—she'd realized what I was about to do.
I asked her inwardly.
What do I look like to you?
Rank 10 player Jason had a deep grudge against Aimorphs.
He was a concept player built around "lookism."
His playstyle motto: Kill ugly aliens, enslave the beautiful ones.
Nothing special about that. Space Survival teemed with weirdos, and similar playstyles existed in other games.
What made Jason famous was how he tormented monster players beyond reason. More than a few quit the game because of his harassment.
Such types make enemies easily, but Jason endured thanks to his fans.
As a streamer making Space Survival his main content, he had a huge following. He leveraged them to build a formidable in-game faction.
Even top monster rankers hesitated to challenge him. Sure, snipe him solo—but as rank 10, he wasn't easy prey.
He'd chosen Cult over human for his "human-supremacist" concept because of their superior specs. Good performance covered skill gaps against other players.
One day, while reveling in his tyranny, his end arrived.
The ranker who'd climbed from the worst species.
The one who'd forced his rival rankers into an alliance with a bounty.
Rank 5 Aimorph ranker began targeting him.
For over half a year, it stalked him daily, toying with him via outlandish tactics.
Especially infamous: ambushing him right as he entered the sleep pod as his character to log off. It became community urban legend.
Two clans built by his fans were shattered. Ties with friendly rankers snapped.
Unable to endure, Jason publicly apologized on the community forums, closing the incident.
Soon after, he entered the game world, turning it all to past history.
Or so he'd thought.
Until coming here. Until facing it again. The telepathy hitting him now revived long-dormant nightmares.
Jason! Are you seeing this too? Look through Villone's eyes! They're both alive!
His lover Aliya's telepathy grated on him.
He knew.
Soul Link didn't break until the target died or the user canceled it. Through the kidnapped Villone's eyes, he saw the female Cult alive and well.
One of the 12 he'd sent to disrupt psychic powers: Seronne, trained in memory storage. Normally, someone to protect at all costs.
But Jason, scarred by endless Morph Park encounters, knew better.
It's a trap.
The Cult in Villone's view: badly injured, immobile, desperately calling comrades.
Face obscured by darkness, but her voice alone sounded pitiful, on the verge of collapse.
Bullshit! That damned Morph Park bastard...!
Seeing its act dredged up old trauma.
He was certain. That voice's owner was dead. Villone, linked via Soul Link, was parasite-infected.
Rushing in would mean massive losses from the controlled Cult. Even in-game, it'd hijacked NPCs to blow up ships.
It perfectly mimics appearances. And devours memories too.
...What about Villone? She's controlled too?
Yes. Its parasite's puppeteering her.
Never heard of such a monster.
Of course not.
Even in-game, its transformation trait's nature stayed secret. Outspacer players speculated it was a rare fusion trait or Vortex Core hunt reward.
Whatever the truth, no other monster or player used parasites and shapeshifting like it. Jason loathed it pathologically but acknowledged its skill.
Pure trait utilization? Probably rivals ranks 3 or 4.
...I know this.
But the Temple Guardians here didn't. They'd only heard rumors, never fought it directly.
Their experience with countless monsters now backfired. It was an impossibility in their eyes.
Who'd think the beast that annihilated the Mohem Squadron relied on parasite deceit and shapeshifting?
I'm saying it again, Aliya. Give up and fall back.
Jason...
Hesitant Aliya.
It had targeted this: undermine his command, incite discord with subordinates.
He sent another urgent telepathy to his lover.
Did his desperation reach her? As she rallied her squad to move again...
An anomaly hit the Soul Link view.
Seronne flinched in panic, spotting something. From the darkness behind her emerged a monster.
What the...?
Eagle head, amber eyes, lion body with golden fur. The newcomer was a Gryphon, a phantom beast.
Isn't that a deified Wolf? Why's it here...?
The Gryphon drew closer in the shared view. Its sharp beak gleamed threateningly as Seronne spread her arms, blocking the path.
As if saying it couldn't pass until she was dead.
That sealed it.
Damn it! No more! Lady Aliya!
...Jason, I'm sorry.
Wait! Everyone, hold! It's a trick! Damn it! Don't go!
Jason fired off telepathy, but no reply came. Aliya and her squad had severed the link.
Instead, through Soul Link, he saw her squad's backs as they charged.
They halted simultaneously upon reaching the passage.
Before them stood Seronne unharmed and Villone propped against the wall. No sign of the Gryphon Wolf.
But the squad, Aliya, and Jason linked to her view could feel it.
Whatever "that" was before them, it wasn't Cult.
The view trembled slightly via Aliya—her panic reflected in her eyes.
"That" thing's mouth moved, captured by Aliya's view.
It was saying:
What do I look like to you?