Chapter 190
Chapter 190
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 190
Chapter Title: Trapped in the Nightmare
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Gasp?!"
A blond man jolted awake in his bed.
He ran a hand over his sweat-drenched neck, his impressive, chiseled muscles tensing.
"Phew, thought I was a goner... Wait, where the hell is this?"
Relief at finding his neck intact was short-lived. Panic set in as he realized he was in unfamiliar surroundings.
This was some kind of room.
The walls were plastered with posters of famous heavy metal bands and character posters from Japanese anime Blu-rays he'd gotten as freebies.
On the desk below them sat an expensive computer rig and a sleek black headgear.
One look at that futuristic black headset, and he knew exactly where he was.
"Home! I'm... I'm back home!"
The blond white guy—no, Jason Turningham—let out a triumphant shout.
This was his family home back on his homeworld. He'd finally returned to reality.
'How long has it been? Ten years? No, fifteen?'
Jason stared down at his hands. Instead of the ghostly pale skin of a Cult, he saw his original dark-toned palms and hairy wrists.
It was definitely his body, but it felt awkward. Having spent more than half his life in the game world, maybe it was only natural.
He threw off the familiar-smelling blanket and climbed out of bed. His height, once nearly two meters, was now just shy of 180 cm.
"Jason! How long are you gonna sleep your life away?!"
As he was lamenting his sudden dwarfism, a voice called from outside.
'Mom!'
In the world of Space Survival, he'd lived a more blessed life than anyone, but there was one thing he always regretted.
Memories of his parents.
Jason hurriedly threw on his discarded clothes and rushed out. The smell of his mother's meatloaf wafted all the way to his door on the second floor.
He tumbled down the stairs and burst into the living room connected to the kitchen, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Mom!"
His mother, setting food on the table, jumped in surprise and scolded him.
Acting like a kid in the morning and all that, grumbling for him to just eat already.
That was the image of his mother etched in his memory.
That's how it should have been.
But the scene before his eyes was nothing like what he'd hoped for.
The once spotless kitchen was drenched red, like undercooked meatloaf. The liquid staining the walls reeked of sharp, metallic blood.
"Huh?"
Jason stared blankly at the blood-soaked kitchen.
And there, holding what used to be his 'mother,' was something that shouldn't exist.
"Ah... Ahh..."
Dark purple exoskeleton and a characteristically elongated rear carapace. Six arms, two legs, and a tail as long as its body.
An 'Aimorph' straight out of Space Survival.
The thing was in the middle of devouring Jason's mother in the kitchen.
"Aaaahhh!"
Jason screamed and squeezed his eyes shut.
Please let this all be a dream.
And then.
Just like that, he opened his eyes on the bed again.
"A... a dream?"
Heavy metal band posters in rough fonts on black backgrounds. Moe character posters from anime.
The computer. It was the exact same scene he'd woken up to moments ago.
He was in his own room, not the game world.
"Jason! How long are you gonna sleep your life away?!"
'Mom!'
No time to rejoice at being back—Jason bolted upright and rushed out of the room.
He flew down half the stairs and quickly scanned the kitchen.
"Jason, how many times have I told you not to run in the house."
Hearing his long-missed mother's voice, Jason gasped for breath. He couldn't breathe right.
From joy? No.
His mother wasn't in any condition to speak. After all, a headless corpse couldn't talk.
"......"
"Jason, come eat."
The Aimorph holding his mother's head spoke in her voice.
"Jason? What's taking you so long?"
"Jason?"
"Jason."
"JasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJasonJason..."
"Aaaahhh!"
In the living room echoing with his mother's voice, he clamped his hands over his ears. Blood tears streamed from his eyes.
As his vision blurred with bloody tears, he opened his eyes again.
"Ah... Ahh..."
Black backgrounds with bold heavy metal band names. Posters of cute anime characters.
Staring at the familiar sight, realization dawned.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
He cursed and pulled the blanket over his head.
Now he remembered.
On the day he entered Space Survival, he hadn't been at his family home. His last memory was donning the VR gear in his rundown apartment studio for a stream.
This hyper-realistic hell he was trapped in wasn't 'reality.'
That's when someone knocked on the door.
"Jason! How long are you gonna sleep your life away?!"
"......"
"Jason, like I always say... Kyaaahhh!"
"Mom?"
He whipped toward the door at the piercing scream from outside.
Moments later, red liquid seeped slowly under the door.
"Ugh... Uwaaaah! Aaaahhh!"
Racked with guilt over losing his mother, Jason tore at his hair like a madman.
Then the doorknob of the firmly shut door slowly turned.
"Gasp!"
Jason snapped awake in bed once more, in the same position.
He realized it didn't matter where this place was.
What mattered was that he was a prisoner in this nightmarish world.
"Jason! How long are you gonna sleep your life away?!"
His mother's voice from outside.
The voice he'd longed for now filled him with dread.
Devouring the Green Galleron had put out the immediate fire.
No. 26, who had the worst injuries among us, ate more than usual. She polished off two wings each just shy of 10 meters long all by herself.
With her belly stuffed full, she puffed up her body and promptly fell asleep. Thanks to that, I could inject enough psychic power to wake PS-111 from its dormant state.
I handed over some Screamer wreckage to the awakened PS-111. Organic tissue might've been useful for energy, but metal parts weren't.
Still in my 'Clever Weakling' form, I got plenty of energy from minimal food. The puncture wound on my neck had mostly healed, and the backlash from Hunter's Tableau was gone.
With a breather, we hunkered down for the night in the pit I'd dug.
I quietly rose, glancing at the sleeping No. 26 and PS-111.
Time to thoroughly check the new perks I'd gained from devouring Jason.
'Too noisy to do it here.'
I planned to summon Jason via a Mimicry Face. Given his personality, even as one, he'd probably be loud.
As I slipped out of the pit and wove between trees, footsteps followed.
The griffon, Mother of the Sky, whose beak still wasn't fully healed.
"Going to check your perks?"
[Zu (Yeah)]
"I'm coming too."
I started to say it wasn't necessary, but her eyes stopped me.
Too hectic during the day to notice, but Jason was one of her enemies. He'd sicced Muriel on her family.
Mimicry Faces inherit fragments of the original's memories—recent experiences and things they valued.
Jason's Mimicry Face would likely remember Muriel.
'She probably has a lot to say.'
Compared to Muriel, Jason got off relatively mercifully. He was trying to escape with some unknown method, so no choice.
But she'd even shoved parasites into her head to avenge her family. Telling her to let it go would be cruel.
'Gotta get info on his allies anyway. Might as well let her hear.'
[Zuzu zu zuzu zuzuzuzu (If it helps you feel better)]
"Thanks."
I moved with Mother of the Sky to a spot a bit away from the pit.
The pitch-black forest, battered by relentless blizzard howls, felt ominous, but none of us feared it.
'This should do.'
I settled into a suitable spot, half-prostrated, and activated the Mimicry Face trait. One face hidden under my fur retracted into my body.
A new face emerged in its place, slick with viscous fluid. Smooth-skinned like a newborn's, it was Cult priest Jason's.
Moments later, Jason's eyes snapped open.
"Ugh... Uwaaaah!"
[Zuzu (Quiet)]
I pressed a finger to my lips in a shushing gesture, and he shut his mouth.
A Mimicry Face was part of my body. All his actions were under my control.
[Zuzu zu zu zuzuzuzu (Answer my questions)]
"......"
Jason blinked rapidly. I permitted him to speak.
"I-I'll tell you everything! P-Please, just don't send me back to that hell... that hell!"
Mimicry Faces usually obey well, thinking they've lost all bodily control. For some reason, over time, they prefer being used as one over dormancy.
'Awfully compliant for him.'
Gone was the arrogant attitude from life; he was cooperative to the point Mother of the Sky watching from the side looked dumbfounded.
'Whatever, doesn't concern me.'
Docile was fine by me. I began questioning him.
His perks, his faction, details on his comrades, and more.
The chat lasted only about an hour, but the intel haul was massive. Haven't gotten this quality in ages.
'Think on that later.'
Priority was the perks.
Jason had three. One unique ability from arriving in this world, the other two stolen from slain players.
'Psychic Tech Synthesis, Coldblood's particle organism control, Metallic Gremlin's warp ability.'
The second manifested as the golden figure on his back; the third was for his escape attempt.
'...Somehow beat this guy.'
His defeat stemmed from wielding power beyond his level. Without getting cocky, we would've lost.
'Gotta watch myself.'
Losing Adhai to Ship Ort was my carelessness too. Hasty judgment post-Jason.
I have too much to lose now. Not like the game where it was just my life.
Game deaths respawned you; here, death is final for me, No. 26, Adhai, Mother of the Sky, PS-111.
'Revival traits exist, but...'
Can't get one now. Even post-Adult stage, it's a gamble. Better assume none.
'To protect them, be extra cautious.'
I steeled myself and reactivated the text box from earlier.
'This ties to Jason's second perk.'
The ability controlling that golden figure—particle organism manipulation from Coldblood.
The other two perks were locked; no compatible traits in my possession yet. Jason didn't know compatibilities either. Gotta experiment as I acquire more.
'Probably needs traits matching the perk's nature.'
Like with Muriel's 'Mark of the Archenemy' and 'Plunderer's Irregular Polyhedron,' which used 'Metal Absorption.' Let me eat weapons to trait-ify their properties.
Particle control might work similarly.
'But two options this time.'
'Cosmic Bacteria' (infection-related) and 'Flame of Hallucination' (psionic-related). Totally different natures, both eligible.
'Not impossible to guess.'
Perk nature hints at synergies.
Cosmic Bacteria first: both involve producing/managing small particles.
Jason said particle control used a special organ between spine and brain to freely manipulate golden particle organisms. Relies heavily on host senses since they're bound to the organ.
Basically, spawn new arms/legs as needed.
'Fusing with Cosmic Bacteria probably yields something like his ability.'
Not certain, though.
'Anyway, skip that.'
Next, Flame of Hallucination.
Downgraded Purple Spray Gun. Spews psychic flames, as the name implies.
'Wish it packed more punch.'
Its firepower was pathetic—called 'purple piss' in-game for a reason.
Still valuable as fodder for strong fusions later, or via Transcendence System here.
Reason it worked for Mark of the Archenemy material? Obvious tie to original owner.
Particle control's origin: Coldblood player.
Coldbloods: tragic race pawned to Vortex One via botched contract.
Thus, Coldblood players often use Vortex One-derived powers. Events let you borrow 'Power of the Abyss' based on choices.
Guessing: psionic traits as material stem from Coldblood lore.
'Vortex Ones are peak psychic beings.'
Jason said the Coldblood player who'd held this perk went the Vortex One cultist route.
Thus, fusing psionic trait might yield something like the original's Vortex One power.
'Recap.'
Cosmic Bacteria + Mark of the Archenemy → similar to Jason's golden figure.
Flame of Hallucination → similar to Coldblood player's version.
'...Tch, all speculation.'
Space Survival never spoon-feeds players. You figure it out yourself.
'Postpone?'
13 hours left. If I fuse and get a dud trait, it'll hurt.
After minutes of deliberation, I shook my head.
'No. Choose now.'
Obsessing 13 hours won't help. Caution is good, but not endless delay.
Better to get it fast, analyze, and plan uses.
Decision made, I selected the trait to use as material for Mark of the Archenemy.