Chapter 262
Chapter 262
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 262
Chapter Title: Ep. 262
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Kadun had once been a slave.
It wasn't anything special. Most Volfs were slaves, after all.
Males served as combat slaves, females as sex slaves. If they were unlucky, they ended up as test subjects for Mega Corp or the Star Union, meeting their end in some lab.
The only marginally better fate for a Volf was to become a space pirate.
What crime had they committed to deserve such suffering? When young Kadun wailed this question to his tribe's chieftain, the old man had answered.
They had once been gods who ruled planets, he said, but their arrogance and brutality led them to war among themselves. After a struggle lasting near eternity, the Volfs lost their divine power and fell from grace. Now, their descendants paid the price for their ancestors' sins.
It hadn't taken long for Kadun to realize the chieftain's tale was utter nonsense.
The chieftain was long dead, and the tribe scattered to the winds of the cosmos. They had all been wrong.
The simple reason Volfs were persecuted was that they were weaker than the Cults.
Nature's order was a cruel law. Just as predators devoured prey without moral condemnation, it was only natural for the mighty Cults to trample the feeble Volfs.
To avoid being crushed by the strong, one had no choice but to become strong themselves. Traversing countless arenas, hands stained with blood, Kadun had grown stronger than any other Volf.
Montana Marcio—a different breed of powerhouse from the Cults—was the only one who had seen his potential. He had spared no support to help Kadun keep growing.
Kadun knew full well that serving Montana would benefit him, so he submitted.
Ten years had passed since he became the underboss of the Marcio Cartel. He had even obtained the "flesh of the god" his old chieftain once spoke of.
Though he now wielded immense power, he felt no thrill. Volf myths held no importance to him anymore.
Just as the Cults followed divine providence, Kadun served the law of the jungle.
That was why he planned to train in the private gym at headquarters today as well. That is, until one of his underlings burst into the training room.
"Fog in the inactive sector?"
"Yes, sir! One of the pirates on patrol captured this!"
The highly motivated underling handed him a terminal. Kadun pressed the button firmly, and the recorded footage began to play.
"The Cults' religious zone, right? The life support manager reported no anomalies?"
"It's not a malfunction—someone spread it deliberately."
"Deliberately, huh. What does the analysis say?"
"The engineers are looking into it now."
Contamination spreading in a sector was a serious issue, but it wasn't something Kadun needed to handle personally. It was less a matter of authority and more one of expertise—better to let the engineers sort it out.
His underling surely knew that. The real reason he'd come to report was something else.
"Th-that fog... it seems connected to the junkies. They mentioned a spider in the fog before they died."
"A spider in the fog?"
Kadun reviewed the footage again.
Whatever was in the fog wasn't visible clearly. But the flow of it felt unnatural, abnormal. Almost as if it were meant to conceal something inside.
'Fog that drives humans insane, controlled by some creature.'
A few similar creatures came to mind. The "Angel Spider," which lured prey with psychic webs. The beast "Red Mist," which neutralized food with hallucinogenic pheromones. As underboss of the Marcio Cartel—a group that brokered deals for pirates—he was well-acquainted with rare specimens.
"Bring me the ones who shot this."
"Er, the patrol that filmed it... they're showing symptoms like the junkies."
He didn't know exactly what the thing was, but it clearly wasn't a pushover. No wonder his underling had come to him.
'Which bastard let something like that loose?'
Not every pirate who visited the fortress succeeded in their smuggling deals for exotic animals. Deals fell through plenty of times. Some failed pirates, unwilling to pay transport fees, just dumped their rare cargo in the inactive sector and fled.
Kadun figured this was a similar case.
The problem was the damage was far greater than usual.
"Krgrr... looks like they'll need me to catch it. I'm heading out. Get everyone coming with me ready."
"Understood!"
"Before we go in, spray the sector with gas. It won't kill it, but it should weaken the thing."
"Yes, sir."
Todays training will be hunting that monster, Kadun thought.
'The bait's hooked.'
An hour ago, a signal had come from the parasites linked to my consciousness. The five minions I'd sent as lures to draw out the enemy—their connections had been severed.
'They must be gearing up in a frenzy by now.'
After bringing the kids to the religious zone, I'd tossed out bait to drag the underboss here.
The hint that I might be the source of the virus plaguing the fortress.
For the past few days, crazed individuals had been roaming the fortress because of me. Excluding the few dominated by my parasites, the rest had gone mad from the "Herald of Great Chaos."
A few of them harbored "madness bombs"—mental parasites in their brains. When an infected host died, it spread to those nearby. Like dandelion seeds on the wind, the madness bombs were propagating rapidly.
Now even the pirates knew it wasn't the drugs—random people were snapping without warning. The problem was they had no idea why.
They could have had a doctor investigate, but instead, they chose to incinerate anyone showing symptoms on sight.
It seemed crude, but it made sense from their perspective. No cartel, Space Dogs or otherwise, could afford to lose a doctor. If one got infected by this mystery virus, the losses would be catastrophic.
The Marcio Cartel was a wealthy outfit with an orbital fortress as their base, so they undoubtedly had plenty of doctors and researchers. But timing was everything. With a massive auction looming and VIPs due to arrive, risking a doctor now would be disastrous.
'Better to lose a few hundred grunts than a doc.'
That was the Space Dogs' mindset—member lives were worth less than flies.
Of course, it was just a stopgap. The best solution was to eliminate the root cause.
What if a suspicious, fog-shrouded figure like me showed up in that situation? Especially if the ones who'd filmed me started showing symptoms? They'd peg me as the contamination source for sure.
'All staged, of course.'
The fog came from the enhanced gremlin moss effect, and the rampaging madness from the Herald and my upgraded parasites.
They had no clue they'd been played. Even if they caught on, the fortress would already be on the brink of ruin.
'Hm?'
As I waited for them to arrive, a strange smell wafted in from somewhere.
I lifted my head from where I'd been crouched in a church with one wall collapsed. The auxiliary organ beneath my jaw quickly scanned the changes throughout the space.
'So that's your move, huh?'
The air was laced with toxic gas. Their plan was to spray the sector with poison before storming in, to weaken me.
'Won't do a damn thing.'
Unless it was on the level of that swamp on the Cult holy planet, it couldn't inflict lethal damage on us.
'Number 26 can tank this easy. Adhai's grown stronger and won't get poisoned. PS-111's a machine lifeform anyway, immune to toxins. Mother's the only one I'm slightly worried about.'
I pulled out a hidden monster tentacle and fired waves at her.
[Zuzuzu zuzzuzuzu zuz zuzuzu (They're spraying poison gas)]
｢Don't worry. I've already transformed.｣
"High concentrations of chemical agents detected in the air. 'Middle child' advised to exercise caution."
｢...I would have been grateful if you hadn't called me middle child.｣
｢Something｣ ｢wrong?｣
｢Sky feels squishy-squishy weird.｣
｢Squishy-squishy?｣ ｢Comprehension｣ ｢impossible｣
｢Gotta gather the squishy-squishy.｣
｢I｣ ｢can't see you｣ ｢Where are you?｣
"Galleron unable to visually track gas currents."
Everyone was hidden in their own ways across different spots. Toxic gas blanketed the entire sector, but not a single one of us was suffering.
'Seemed like they were using their heads, but...'
Wrong opponent.
I listened to the kids' chatter while waiting for the enemy to breach.
About an hour later, the poison gas permeating the sector began to thin. They were getting ready to move in.
Soon, faint vibrations rippled through the air. Three patrol ships packed with pirates had entered the airspace overhead.
'Here they come.'
The pirates aboard were all clad in mid-grade powered suits, armed with psychic rifles and gauss rifles. And the underboss—that Volf—was even decked out in high-grade gear.
'Insane specs for pirates.'
Not even Muriel's minions measured up. Fitting for pirates running an orbital habitat.
'The problem is I've got them completely read.'
Three minions remained undetected—one on each ship, feeding me intel.
They thought the five baits were all there was. No dream of spies in their midst.
'Time to get started.'
I compiled the intel and beamed waves to the kids. We'd fought together dozens of times now—they grasped my instructions instantly and sprang into action.
Syncing with their movements, I crawled out of the church. My massive wing arms pulverized the Cult symbols littering the floor.
'1 km to the enemy.'
One patrol ship was attempting to land in a plaza 1 km out. A trivial distance at my speed.
I propelled myself toward them with my wing arms and combat limbs.
Alloy buildings blocked my path, but my body pierced straight through. Crashing through structures on my charge, I spotted the pirate ship.
Dozens of meters left before it touched down. I unfurled the erosion tentacles concealed on my back.
Six enormous tentacles, like serpents from myth, rocketed toward the ship. Caught off-guard mid-landing, its cannons swiveled frantically.
But that was the wrong call. They should have evaded my tentacles.
My tentacles coiled around the ship's rear. The hull shuddered violently, and the cannons' fire went wide of the mark.
With the patrol ship ensnared, I yanked my tentacles back toward me. Sensing doom, the pirates aboard popped the rear hatch. Mid-grade suits could survive a drop from that height.
Wrong again. Because my erosion tentacles gripped the tail section. Several snagged the airborne pirates whole and swallowed them down.
"Watch out!"
"You motherfucker!"
"Gah, arrrgh!"
Regrettably, I didn't have enough erosion tentacles to devour them all. Only four pirates went down the hatch; the rest hit the ground safely.
'Not over yet.'
"Everyone scatter!"
"Fucking monster bi—wh-what?!"
"The ship's falling! Get out!"
I slammed the tentacle-wrapped patrol ship down on their heads.
Explosions, the stench of gunpowder, and blood.
Familiar elements to an Aimorph, heralding the hunt's opening.