The Nest (2)

Luck was on my side.

The traits I had acquired in the laboratory totaled three.

I had consumed more than five hundred samples, yet the Predation Effect had triggered only three times. Anyone could see it was an unlucky outcome, but I was satisfied all the same.

I'd met the condition for unlocking a Type, and on top of that…

I'd also secured genuinely useful traits — not just ones that padded my count, but ones I could put to active use in combat.

The new traits were three: Natural Recovery, Sawtooth Tentacles, and Contamination Organ.

Of these, Natural Recovery had fused with Tenacious Vitality to become the Regeneration (Fused) trait.

Good thing, too — I'd been holding out for a psionic trait next.

Amorphs couldn't wear armor or shield their bodies in any way, so healing-related traits were more precious than anything else. They meant recovering quickly from even the gravest injuries.

As long as I possessed Regeneration, I would not die unless my brain was destroyed. Depending on the severity of the wound it might take time, but in the end I would always recover.

The only true exceptions were attacks that employed psychic power, or strikes from specialized weapons.

Sawtooth Tentacles and the Contamination Organ are both excellent traits too.

I tensed the upper pair of my combat arms.

Thin, whip-like tentacles shot out from my palms. Lined with saw-shaped barbs along their surfaces, they would shred apart anything they coiled around.

Ordinarily, this trait sees little use — the tentacles are too fragile.

But with a Type, that changed. Once upgraded by the Physical Enhancement Type, the sawteeth would grow sturdy enough to bite into a ship's outer hull. For ordinary soldiers, stopping them would be impossible.

I retracted the tentacles back into my hands.

Last of all — the Contamination Organ.

This time it was the lower arms' turn, not the upper ones.

I hunched down and pressed my palms against the floor. From the holes in my palms oozed a dark brown slime and a mass of spores.

The Contamination Organ, in short, was a trait that turned me into a walking nest. Whenever I wished, my body could expel spores identical to the ones in my nest, just like this.

There was one difference: the spores produced by the Contamination Organ could be imbued with some of the traits I possessed.

In other words, I could create spores that sprayed neurotoxin, or spores that dripped acid. Or spores that amplified my own body's regenerative effects.

With this ability alone, turning an entire ship into my fortress would not be impossible. It was fair to call it the perfect ability for facing powerful enemies.

Tentacles and spores alike — any sane human who laid eyes on these abilities would recoil in horror, and I was thoroughly pleased. Having checked over each of my new traits, I set No. 26 down from my shoulder for a moment.

A translucent text box hung in the air, awaiting my response. The response available to me was only one.

Accept.

The moment I accepted, the changes began.

The bones inside my body twisted and pushed through my chitinous hide. The outer shell swelled up as though it had soaked in water.

It was all a natural transformation, so no blood sprayed and no pain came. My skin and muscles drew tight to match the change — a feeling much like a deep stretch.

Unlike the evolution into a Juvenile, the change brought by the Type did not take long. The mutation completed, and a translucent text window appeared before me once more.

With my first Type acquired, my traits had been broadly reclassified according to Type requirements. Thanks to obtaining the Physical Enhancement Type, a message reading "Type applied" now floated beside each of my physical traits.

And glancing below, I saw that the number of traits required to secure the Psychic Enhancement Type had risen from three to six.

Tch. The Type Penalty.

I had known about it, but seeing it in front of me still stung a little. Amorphs faced no limit on how many Types they could acquire, but each additional Type carried a penalty.

The number of traits needed to obtain a new Type doubled.

For example, if I had acquired the Psychic Enhancement Type first, the Physical Enhancement Type's requirement would have jumped from ten traits to twenty.

Or if I unlocked some other Type now, before the Psychic Enhancement Type, then the Psychic type's requirement would climb to twelve.

That's why some people deliberately delay unlocking a Type.

Carelessly unlocking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠inefficient Types could leave you unable to obtain the one that truly mattered.

If this had been a game, I would have agonized far longer over the timing of my Type acquisition.

Doubling the requirement for hard-to-come-by psychic traits to six was no small burden.

But this was reality, and a fight with the pirates was waiting for me right around the corner. With crisis at my doorstep, delaying my growth to chase efficiency would accomplish nothing if I died before getting stronger.

Enough of that. Let's see what actually changed.

I'd have to rely on the Physical Enhancement Type for a while yet, so it was worth taking stock of just how much stronger I'd become.

The first sensation I registered was weight.

Before, I had felt sleek and agile — now I was something else entirely. My whole body felt massive and solid.

How should I describe it? The feeling of a leopard becoming a rhinoceros would do well enough.

Well, no wonder I feel heavy. Look at all this.

My head was now covered in a thick carapace much like the exoskeleton of my chest. My arms and legs, too, had been sheathed in dense, hard biological armor everywhere except the joints.

Perhaps to support my newly heavy frame, I had grown taller as well. Where my height had hovered around one meter before, it now exceeded a meter and a half. My legs, reinforced by the Reinforced Limbs trait, had grown far thicker than the rest of my body.

When I pressed a hand to the wall, I found I could still climb walls and crawl across ceilings. The booming thud of my footsteps, however, was beyond help. I had to accept that silent ambush tactics were now a thing of the past.

Finally, my tail — one of my signature weapons — had grown under the Type's influence as well.

It was now just under two meters long. Nearly double its previous size.

A mid-range attack option. Excellent.

More than once, I had found myself in danger while ambushing prey because of the distance between us.

For someone like me, the tentacles and tail were a godsend in a drought.

｢Big! Big!｣

As I inspected my body, No. 26 beside me registered her astonishment. To her, it must have looked like I had suddenly grown.

[Zzzzt (I grew up)]

｢Grew? What's that mean?｣

[Zzzt zzzzt zzzt (A baby becoming an adult)]

｢Baby? Baby! Baby's big! Baby!｣

No. 26 kept firing the word "baby" at me.

Baby, huh.

Well, it wasn't wrong. Since a Juvenile counted as a biologically immature organism, the definition of "baby" fit me quite adequately.

Though I doubted any parent raising an Amorph baby would feel anything short of a death wish.

I wanted to explain my transformation in detail, but it seemed impossible to tailor an explanation to her limited vocabulary. I'd have to teach her properly once she learned to speak in full.

I lifted No. 26, still hopping around in excitement over our next destination, back onto my shoulder.

｢Baby. Where go?｣

[Zzzzt (The armory)]

Heavy footsteps boomed down the corridor. If a crew member had been here to witness it, what would they have done? Burst into tears at the sight of a monster beyond their ability to comprehend? Or sprinted for the escape pods?

We'll find out soon enough.

One thing was certain, whatever the answer.

They would witness the nightmare born of the universe itself, and they would regret it. Regret ever thinking of boarding this ship.

One day had passed since the massacre in the situation room on the ship's bridge.

Under ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠any other circumstance, the crew would have mourned those who had met such a tragic end. Now they had no such luxury.

The rumor was spreading bit by bit: a Metallic Gremlin — no, something far more terrifying — was rapidly devouring every living soul aboard the ship.

Humans are resilient creatures, but confronted with something beyond their capacity to endure, they lose their minds.

Not even a full day after the massacre, another monster attack occurred. This time the creature struck the mess hall, slaughtering more than fifty unarmed soldiers.

With over half of the troops meant to protect the research vessel dead, Captain Yoo Sung barricaded himself in the captain's quarters with only the surviving soldiers and his senior officers.

The official justification was to concentrate their defenses in a single point and hold out. In practice, it amounted to abandoning everyone else. Indeed, the forsaken survivors were dwindling fast.

Thanks to an unidentified monster — whether it had come from outside the ship or been born in the laboratory, no one could say — the interior of the research vessel had become hell itself.

The recovery bay inside the medical ward.

There lay Wei, acting head of the research team.

Thanks to the Mega Corp's advanced medical technology, he had regained consciousness quickly. Which meant he had been forced to confront his situation — against his will.

Permanent loss of sight and smell, half of his facial skin destroyed, loss of taste from lingering neurotoxin damage, and severe impairment of his speech.

Wei wanted desperately to believe he was dreaming. What sin had he committed to deserve such agony?

He was nothing more than an ordinary man who had lived a life much like anyone else's in the Mega Corp. True, more than a few people had died by his hand on his way to a senior researcher's post — but everyone lived that way. Losing the competition meant dying; that was simply how things worked.

Wei wanted to kill himself, but the recovery bay's life-support systems would not let him. The only action permitted to him was staring down at his own wretched condition.

Perhaps it was because every second and every hour passed in such torment that he noticed the change around him a beat too late. The footsteps of the doctors that had been nagging at his ears had vanished entirely. Nothing remained but the signal tones of the machines monitoring his vitals.

What? What's going on?

Such silence, in a medical ward full of critical patients. It was never a good sign.

The endless, ominous stillness was finally broken by the sound of footsteps. Wei assumed it was soldiers' boots.

It was not. Those footsteps carried the unmistakable weight of something far heavier than any human.

Boom. Boom. Boom — vibrations that shook the entire medical ward.

Each time the recovery bay reverberated, Wei's body shuddered violently.

Something that meant him no goodwill was approaching. He wanted to run, but he couldn't. The painkillers being fed into him automatically by the life-support systems had left his body utterly unresponsive.

And then, at last, the footsteps stopped.

Wei could not see, but he could feel it clearly enough — it was right beside him.

Its breathing. Its low growl. He knew instinctively that the thing next to him was the same monster that had ambushed him in the situation room.

It had come here to end his life.

Something climbed on top of his trembling head. So now it kills me, he thought — but his expectation missed the mark.

The thing that settled over his head was soft and lumpy. It flowed down like chocolate syrup poured over a round bun, swallowing his entire skull.

He had barely registered the absurd, atmosphere-breaking texture when a horrific pain erupted across his whole face. It felt as though someone were searing his face with fire. With the sensation of his head melting away entirely, Wei screamed inside.

Ugh, aaargh! Somebody! Somebody just kill me!

If not for the oxygen mask strapped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over his mouth, Wei would have suffocated to death in under five minutes.

Or if not for the painkillers and regenerative fluids being pumped into his body, he would have died of shock on the spot.

Had the Bubble Amoeba perched atop his head — the creature he had called "Specimen No. 26" — been even slightly further along in its growth, it would have claimed his life far more quickly.

As it happened, every single one of these factors ran contrary to his wishes. Fate did not grant Wei an easy death.

It was a full hour before Wei was finally granted eternal rest.

[Zzzzt zzzz (All done eating?)]

｢Yes.｣

I lifted No. 26, who had finished both her meal and her revenge, onto my palm. A full day of stuffing her until her belly nearly burst had left her with a pleasing layer of plumpness.

[Zzzt zzzzzt (How does revenge feel?)]

｢Revenge? What's revenge?｣

[Zzzzt zzzzt (You ate the person who hurt you)]

｢Food. Tasty.｣

Apparently higher-order emotions like revenge were beyond No. 26. Whether she simply hadn't learned them yet, or was innately incapable of such thinking, I couldn't say.

This is reality, after all — anything goes.

A creature that shouldn't have been able to speak was calmly holding a conversation with me, after all. And given how peculiarly interested the researchers had been in her, I suspected there had to be something more to her.

She's not about to evolve into a Sea Demon or something, is she?

Sea Demons, like Bubble Amoebas, were creatures that lived only on ocean planets. They resembled Bubble Amoebas in shape, but grew to over thirty meters and concealed a mass of tentacles within their bodies.

Because of that resemblance, people on the community forums often speculated that Bubble Amoebas and Sea Demons were related. Of course, that game was full of creatures that looked deceptively alike, so it was a meaningless argument.

Completely unaware of what I was thinking, No. 26 pulsed a thought-wave at me.

｢Baby. Me full.｣

A soft glow emanated from her body. As I understood it, that was her way of saying she was tired.

I lifted the little one — who had graduated from "bouncy" to fittingly "plump" — onto my shoulder and left the medical ward.

Out in the corridor beyond, not a trace of the ship's former sleek, futuristic sheen remained.

Unclean, mold-like growths of dark brown stalks choked the corridor. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠From the ceiling and walls, spores drizzled their slime down onto this cursed, life-swollen garden like rain watering it. It looked less like a mineral passageway of metal and more like the rotting innards of a dead tree crawling with every manner of insect.

From within the nest that now claimed half the ship, I set out in search of my next prey.