Chapter 273
Chapter 273
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 273
Chapter Title: qiqi iykow gkk-273i
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 273
Chapter Title: Great Chaos (1)
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The VIP on the 100th floor of the 2nd Command, Cynthia, did not go to the banquet hall.
Currently, she was in hiding within Keesha Arma, the pirates' territory. If she went to the banquet hall, someone might recognize her.
Montana Marcio knew this and had promised to treat her separately.
Soon, expensive high-end dishes would fill the table in her room. Before the meal arrived, she was listening to music in the audio room as usual.
Beautiful music flowed from speakers designed like antique phonographs. She lent her ear to the lovely melody of string instruments filling the room.
What interrupted her immersion in the world of music, eyes closed, was a faint vibration.
It wasn't just the music resonating through the room. The entire floor—no, the whole building—seemed to shudder from some powerful impact.
'What is that?'
This had never happened before. She rose from her chair and left the room.
A familiar noise drifted faintly from the balcony. A sound she'd once heard so often it turned her stomach.
It was the explosive boom of an energy round striking something.
'Akira...?'
Had he realized she was hiding here? She rushed to the balcony.
And the sight that greeted Cynthia was a bit different from her expectations.
No massive warships invading the fortress. No swarms of carrier craft. No Hulk mutants or soldiers dropping from the sky.
Instead, there was a meteor shower.
Countless fires were consuming the fortress.
'Lucky it's a Cult fortress, I suppose.'
I gazed up at the transparent tray floating in the air, shielding me and No. 26.
That object, resembling a mirror infused with multicolored lights or a circular prism, manifested every time Complex Spectrum activated.
Its primary ability: reflection of energy-based attacks.
It was the sole trait born from merging my previous defensive ones—like Mimicry Scales and Psionic Reflection Armor.
'Defense traits rarely come in active form.'
Most defensive traits I'd acquired either triggered on conditions or ran passively. Even in the game, Aimorph players rarely had on-demand defensive activations.
Active defenses typically packed power but carried risks—finicky conditions or extreme rarity.
Naturally, Complex Spectrum wasn't spammable.
Sheltered by the energy-reflecting transparent mirror, I opened the text box.
Complex Spectrum's effect fused my past defensive traits with the Cults' Reflection tech.
Like Mimicry Scales, it targeted only energy attacks hit repeatedly; like Psionic Reflection Armor and Reflection, it bounced them back.
'And as a bonus, it mitigates unreflectable ones.'
Handy against foes like Red Gallerons or Vortex Ones with proprietary energy systems.
Their assaults bypassed defenses, shredding even Adult-stage Aimorphs. No reflection possible, but damage reduction was a solid win.
'Downsides are tolerable.'
Five-minute upkeep, thirty-minute cooldown.
Can't abuse it, but versus traits needing 24+ hours to recycle, the risk was negligible.
'Anyway.'
They now knew I had reflection. No more fortress guns; time for alternatives.
Right on cue, light flared from the distant 2nd Command. Two fortress guns fired in unison.
'Thought it was a fluke?'
They couldn't accept their mightiest weapons turning traitor on the fortress.
'Faith lacking.'
And disbelief cost dearly.
A purple heat ray—packing more punch than a standard warship—slammed into the colossal transparent mirror.
The mirror held firm, performing flawlessly. The beam thicker than my body shattered into hundreds, thousands of slender rays, arcing back whence it came.
A deluge of hyper-condensed psychic power beams engulfed the fortress. Death's rain spared neither Cult structures nor settlers' homes. If I had ears, the blasts would've ruptured eardrums.
Some beams veered toward the command spire. A spark bloomed midway up its towering cylinder.
At last, they grasped my countermeasure and ceased fire. The 1st and 3rd Commands stayed silent too.
'Kadun mentioned other weapon types in the fortress.'
Owner Montana had arrayed diverse ship guns.
Yet the pinnacle remained psychic fortress guns. With those neutralized, lesser arms were unlikely—but unignorable.
Complex Spectrum countered energy only. Useless against kinetic slugs like tungsten rounds, which barely scratched me anyway.
Should they test anti-ship kinetics and deem them viable... headache incoming.
'Hence, hustle.'
They didn't know the five-minute limit. Strike the commands in the lull.
[Zzuzzu zzuzzu zz zzuzzuzu (Round up the downed folks?)]
｢Making babies?｣
[Zz (Yup)]
No. 26, clinging to my flank, glowed in acknowledgment. It ballooned huge, scooping collapsed humans with tentacles and psychic grip.
Poisoned and gravity-crushed, they offered zero fight. Straight to mutant status.
'This'll do?'
Nearly a thousand mutants surged toward the commands.
Some bore Madness Bombs in their skulls, primed to spread Herald of Great Chaos. Killing them would amplify the bedlam.
Musing to halt mutant production, a familiar thought wave tickled my monster tentacles.
｢Big adult｣
[Zzueueu (Adhai?)]
The sender: Adhai, back on our ride, guarding Sky Mother.
｢Outside｣ ｢Noisy｣
[Zzuz zzuzzu (On the hunt)]
｢Envy｣ ｢Me｣ ｢Bored｣
[Zzuzzu zzuzzuzu zz zzuzzuzu (Sky Mother still going?)]
｢Yes｣ ｢Egg｣ ｢Same｣
Like Aimorphs cocooning for evolution, Volps morphed during divinity ascension.
'Into gemstone egg statues.'
Gem type hinged on the familiar picked at first ascension. Sky Mother's griffon, so probably an agate egg-form.
[Zz zzuzzuzu zzuzzu zz zzuzzuzu (Wrapping soon. Hang tight)]
｢Got it｣ ｢Me｣ ｢Ugly friend｣ ｢Promise｣ ｢Keep｣
Sweet Adhai, true to word.
Fortress mopped? Time to scout gifts for him.
Conversation done, No. 26 and I quitted the fleet anchorage. Surroundings were long since rubble.
Reflection backlash had flattened every building. Fleeing souls fell to mutants.
Mutants had swept the zone too—no survivors.
'No need for the disguise anymore.'
Mutation Virus Host form crawled slow: stubby legs, bulky torso. Layer on Herald of Great Chaos? Crawl city.
Fight power middling too. No fleshy or organ traits accessible.
Mutants aplenty now. Commands next—direct assault. Original form optimal.
Decision made, I dropped Organic Evolution sustaining the shift. My body warped back swiftly.
June beetle grub-plumpness slimmed. Stumpy legs spider-elongated. Writhing black tentacles vanished.
｢Big baby's back to normal.｣
Spider-esque return drew a wistful blink from trailing No. 26. Then it hopped atop my head.
｢Big baby always looks cool anyway! Love it!｣
[Zzuzzu (Thanks)]
I raised a wing-arm to pat it gently. It reciprocated, tentacle coiling my fingertip like a handshake.
'Body restored. Let's roll.'
PS-111 was undermining 3rd Command—life support hub—via sub-sites like env controls, prepping hacks.
Not direct strike. So No. 26 and I eyed others: 1st or 2nd.
'2nd reacted sharpest.'
First to fire? High command likely holed up there.
Target locked, I splayed wing-arms wide. Membranes unfurled from carapace.
Wings out after ages—near body-length spans—I flapped experimentally. Gusts shoved air and debris alike.
'Good.'
Quick check passed, I beat hard. Air pressure pulverized nearby ruins, lofting my hefty frame skyward.
Dipped altitude with flaps. Below, my shadow blanketed the street thick.
"Keeiiii!"
"Keei!"
"Keeiiiik!"
"Grugugugu!"
Street-filling mutants bound for fortress wailed up at me.
Resisting pirates, sensing overhead shadow, craned necks. Eyes bulged, jaws dropped.
"W-What the hell is that?"
"Never heard of anything like it!"
One word: agape.
Primal awe at overwhelming presence. My gift to them?
Herald of Great Chaos blanketed 500m radius. Mind-warping psychic savaged resisting pirates' sanity.
"U-Uwaaak! Run! Run away!"
"Please save me please save me please save me..."
"Mommy! Mommy! Scary! Mommy!"
Mutant horde ahead, colossal flyer above, sanity-shredding psychic? Pirate lines crumbled.
"Don't run! Fight... guk?!"
"He, hehehe! I win! I win! Hihihihi!"
"Ki, kihihihihi, die die die die die die!"
But wait—insanity peaked. Pirates mowed down comrades.
Mercs, moments ago holding with pirates against mutants, now unleashed honed killer arts on allies.
Madness metastasized street-wide.
Meantime, my mutant packs raced streets and rooftops toward commands.
'Should suffice.'
I retasked the Herald-spawned loonies. No gutting neighbors—aim bigger.
The culprits behind their woe. Make 'em pay?
"K-Kill 'em all. Kill. Kill. Kill."
"Wanna kill! Hurry! Blood now!"
From above, I nudged their dangling carrot.
Mad pirates and murder-mercs trailed mutants. Fresh foes mere moments ago, now jolly lunatics charging fresh prey.
That seething madness converged on the 2nd Command.
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