Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Neurotoxin Ambush
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“Grahk!”
A pirate’s head was ripped clean off by my hand.
Brown blood streamed from the severed head, dragging bits of spine along with it.
The bastard was a Rockwalker, an intelligent species from a planet packed with rocks. They survived by devouring stone and metal.
At first glance from the lore, they seemed like silicon-based lifeforms, sparking curiosity among sci-fi fans. But in the actual game, they weren’t much different from standard humanoid creatures.
Apart from their rough, stone-like tough skin, the blood coursing through them was the same as any regular organism.
I swung the Rockwalker’s dripping head like a club, smashing it into the cyborg beside me. The cyborg’s skull burst open like a watermelon in a smashing game, reduced to an unrecognizable pulp.
That makes two teams down.
This target group had been heading for the lab.
Just like the ones who’d gone to the armory, they’d entered the lab off-guard. By the time I arrived, only three were left.
The other three had already melted away in acidic slime, long turned into the dearly departed.
Tch. Lost two of ‘em.
I smacked my lips at the sight of the cyborgs with only their lower halves remaining. Just in case, I tore off a leg and ate it, but it didn’t count toward my evolution conditions. The text box seemed to recognize only kills I made personally, intact.
The predation effect didn’t trigger either. Corpses I didn’t kill myself had a very low chance of activating it—about the same as samples. Better to assume it almost never happened.
I spat out the steel girder crunching between my teeth.
In the game, Aimorphs could chew through machinery, but in reality, it was hard to get used to. Felt like gnawing a chicken leg down to the bone.
“Guhk, kuhk, guuuuhk...”
Beside me, No. 26 was finishing off a cyborg.
It had gotten the hang of it, successfully hunting without my help. The cyborg thrashed desperately to pry it off, but No. 26 burrowed deep into its esophagus, staying put until the prey suffocated.
Even a cyborg’s base was human. No air meant death.
I crushed its heart with my tail before the breath fully rattled out. As soon as I killed the prey, No. 26 pulled free from the esophagus and beamed ultrasound waves at me.
Sorry, No. 26, but cyborgs only count if I kill and eat them. Like pheasant or chicken, I handed the Rockwalker to No. 26 and picked up the cyborg corpse.
Just as I was about to take a bite, the communicator in my combat arm buzzed.
｢Breathing bastards. Report in.｣
｢C-Command center here. Uh, still working on it!｣
｢Cargo bay here—these fuckers are loaded. Shit-ton of stuff to haul.｣
｢Boss, kitchen’s totally fucked. Nothing edible left.｣
“Armory search in progress.”
｢The lab group ain’t responding?｣
I mimicked the armory guy’s voice to reply, then quickly tore a chunk from the cyborg corpse. The tiny organ in my throat mutated to produce a new voice.
Mutation complete in seconds, I answered into the communicator by the corpse.
“Lab’s clear. No issues.”
｢Huh? You’re not the comm guy. Why you holding it?｣
“Uh, comm guy’s prepping for demolition right now.”
｢...Right? Okay. Click.｣
The boss ended the call with a suspicious tone.
No wonder he was the boss—pretty sharp. A pirate running his crew this systematically. Normal Hulk Mutants suffered intelligence drops from gene mods, but this one was different.
Maybe modded with some tech I don’t know about.
A smart Hulk Mutant. Never saw one in the game.
Doesn’t change what he is, though. Stay cautious just in case.
Predator Sense aside, an intelligent Hulk Mutant. Differences from the game I knew were piling up. Tense, but intriguing.
Oh yeah, No. 26’s here too.
That pink Bubble Amoeba munching away at the Rockwalker’s guts was way off from the game too. Same mascot vibe, but not that smart in-game.
Me running around with a Bubble Amoeba. Community’d freak.
Aimorphs were solo-play specialists anyway, and I wasn’t the social type myself. Real life or game.
Lost in thought, I finished off the cyborg corpses.
The freshly killed cyborg meat tasted like lemon.
Suspicious. Elchen tilted his head, communicator in hand. Before becoming a Hulk Mutant, he’d been a soldier. More precisely, a defeated one. He’d been sentenced to Hulk Mutant transformation for losing a battle. If the Ezerton family hadn’t taken him in, he’d have wandered battlefields as a mindless monster until death. Anyway, true to his military roots, he obsessed over the chain of command. He had subordinates who occasionally disobeyed, but they’d all become cosmic dust. After a few examples, reports never faltered. Could be a simple mistake, but Elchen felt uneasy. Maybe the wild animal genes mixed in his DNA. The beastly instincts that saved him dozens of times on brutal battlefields were warning him now. That last comm wasn’t a mistake—it was a trap. Mind made up, Elchen grabbed the communicator again. Message to the kitchen and cargo bay crews, excluding the armory group who’d reported.
“Boss here. Something fishy with the lab guys. Everyone gear up and head to the lab.” ｢Huh? Got it.｣ ｢Aye, boss.｣ Call ended, Elchen summoned the Medical Team Leader.
“Doc, where’s the escape pods and engine room on this ship?”
“Follow me.”
Elchen was cautious. His men wouldn’t lose to some monster, but better safe. Like on the battlefield, he secured retreat routes first. Can’t just let whoever touched my ship walk. Escape route wasn’t the end. He planned to rig the engine room with bombs. Most ships ran on fusion engines—small explosives could cause massive blasts. Once he escaped safely, remote-detonate. Monster dies trapped. Sure, crew left aboard dies too, but pirates always had recruits. Easy to replace grunts. Just take Garlic and the doc. Oblivious to their boss plotting to ditch them, the subordinates kept busy watching the Medical Team Leader. En route to the escape pods, Elchen called out.
“Doc.”
“Yes?”
“You’ve fought that thing, right? Any weaknesses?”
“None.”
Elchen frowned at the instant reply. The doc panicked at the boss’s reaction, but the words were out. This coward who fears me reacts like that? The doc didn’t know it, but Elchen knew he terrified the man. Yet he’d blurted the answer Elchen hated without hesitation. Meaning, to the doc, the monster was scarier than Elchen. Elchen’s mind went ice-cold. He rephrased.
“Fine. What’re its strengths? Features?”
No anger, so the doc cautiously shared his thoughts.
“I-It’s like a ghost.”
“Ghost?”
“Yes. Even under bright lights, it eats people without leaving bodies. We only noticed later someone was gone.”
“Ghosts on a spaceship? You idiots just screw up?”
“Th-this ship has all sorts of security. So complex even we couldn’t map it all, but it knew and dodged everywhere, killing people. If that’s not a ghost, what is?”
Elchen fell silent. The doc’s tone rang true—he was telling facts. Ghost? What bullshit? So this ship was a ghost vessel? Ghost ship in space age. Ridiculous joke. Elchen pondered, then pulled the communicator again. Pride stung, but time to rally everyone. As he activated it to change plans. Too late. Way too late. The unknown enemy had launched its offensive.
Clever bastard. Even high-ranking humans fell for Mimicry, but Elchen didn’t bite. Less intelligent being, more clever beast of a Hulk Mutant. Sniffed the trap with wild instincts, huh. Too late anyway. We’d left the lab and returned to the nest in the cooling chamber. My auxiliary organs now overlooked my territory spread through the ship. I could clearly see the pirates grumbling toward the lab. Time for a new tactic against the enemy. I lay belly-down in the nest and closed my eyes. As auxiliary organs touched the nest, my senses—limited to my body—began expanding. Like blood flowing through veins, my perceptual domain stretched along the tendrils. Starting from the cooling chamber, sensation flowed through corridors and rooms on currents of consciousness. Drug users often describe escaping the flesh for transcendent feelings. Was this it? With each breath I took, the tendrils quivered like lungs. The chill from the metal plates they wrapped sent shivers through me. Finally, the auxiliary organs linked fully. The enemies wandered my belly now. I commanded the neurotoxin spores along the path to the lab. Activate. Like brain signaling nerves, auxiliary organs relayed my order through the tendrils. Spores obeyed, spewing slime in unison. From ceilings, walls, rooms, corridors, floors—anywhere tendrils reached. Extreme paralytic venom poured throughout the ship. I felt the pirates panic at the unforeseen assault. They smashed spores and hacked tendrils to escape, but it didn’t last. Their bodies betrayed their wills, collapsing like logs. Quick ones spotted the spores and fled, but most chose foolishly. Success. Thought it might fail. Controlling via nest link was smooth only post-subadult in-game. But this is reality. Wondered if it’d work here—did, flawlessly. Not blind gamble, though. Nest still small, areas familiar from prior visits, few spores—good odds. Prediction spot-on. Five escaped. Over half felled by spores. The seven trapped lay paralyzed, awaiting death. I rose from the nest. As thin chin tentacles detached, a wave of weakness hit. Like a soul roaming infinite spaces rebound to the prison of flesh. Weakness passed quick, but energy spent on nest control didn’t recover. Fierce hunger stirred my appetite for the first time in ages.
I perched No. 26 on my shoulder and headed for the lab.
Passed fallen pirates en route. True to form, they ruthlessly abandoned hopeless comrades.
Hungry and no fight needed—fine by me.
I tore into the downed pirates voraciously. Felt their bodies twitch as my teeth sank in. Movements fresh as a just-caught fish flopping.
Did they know? The more they resisted, the more saliva flooded my maw. Teeth ripped flesh mercilessly; four arms shattered bones, yanked guts.
Starved so bad, machine parts sliding down didn’t faze. The silent feast in the corridor ended splendidly.
Two left now.
Five of seven were cyborgs. Eaten eight so far—two more for evolution. Subadult stage close.
I picked a cyborg finger bone as toothpick, following the fugitives’ trail.
They hid not in the lab, but the crew gym.
Of all places to flee.
Gym’s open space probably seemed good for shooting angles.
Problem: dead crew thought same. Place for camaraderie now my slaughterhouse long ago.
Fear pheromones and breaths leaked from the busted door. They’d freak seeing blood-soaked walls and floors.
Over twenty dead inside already. Five more wouldn’t change much.
I handed the finger bone to No. 26 on my shoulder and stepped into the gym.