Chapter 285
Chapter 285
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 285
Chapter Title: Metamorphosis (2)
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There was this old classic movie I'd seen once.
It was a thriller about clone humans living inside the Earth, identical to those on the surface.
The outcome when surface humans met their underground clones? Not good. Just like that doppelganger legend where seeing someone identical to you means death.
That's exactly the situation I'm in right now.
The man screaming at the sight of me—he was me from my human days.
...Guess I should try talking first.
I attempted to calm him by mimicking a human voice with my Mimicry organ trait.
But the sound that came out was nothing like I'd expected.
What the?
From my fanged maw came a beastly growl. He gulped, interpreting it as a threat.
The trait isn't activating?
Is it because this is an illusion? Or because my body's still mutating inside the cocoon? The Mimicry organ wasn't activating at all.
Plus, my current body was only human-sized. That's how I'd fit so easily into this cramped studio apartment.
Seizing my moment of confusion, another me kicked my head with his foot.
Ugh?!
My original body wouldn't have budged, but now? It hurt like taking a battleship's main gun broadside straight to the skull.
Reeling from the unexpected pain, I flailed and crashed onto the desk with the computer. In the meantime, he bolted out of the apartment.
What the hell?
I rubbed my head with my wing-arms to soothe the pain.
This isn't an illusion?
The throbbing in my kicked head proved it was real. I'd never felt pain like this in previous cocoon visions.
As I stroked my head, the pain eased—but in its place, rage bubbled up. I wanted to smash the computer in front of me, chase down the fleeing prey.
...No, calm down.
I forcibly suppressed the flaring anger.
Thinking back, even past visions had sensory triggers—like the harsh chemical smells in the hospital or that mystery facility.
If I could smell, then pain made sense too. No one had attacked me back then, that's all.
The problem? The first one to hurt me here was me.
I've got to catch him.
A human-shaped me didn't just pop up for no reason. To understand this vision, I needed him. Words might not work, but I'd grab him and make him talk somehow.
I followed the escaped me out of the apartment.
A gray corridor lined with shut doors greeted me.
I tried the handle across the hall, just in case, but it wouldn't budge. Not locked—just like a handle glued to the wall.
Stairs it is.
Unless he'd ducked into another unit, there was only one way. My six elongated legs thudded against the hard floor, echoing down the hall.
Sure enough, the stairwell door hung slightly ajar. Light from inside illuminated the steps.
Down there?
The motion sensor had triggered, so he must've gone that way.
As I moved to descend, a thought struck me.
If this really was me, how would I handle facing an unavoidable monster?
Just panic and run like now?
Or...
Behind!
"Die!"
The elevator doors on the opposite side slid open. I ducked without looking. A broken mop handle speared through, piercing my rear head carapace.
Damn it!
"Damn it!"
I yanked my head back to protect it while swinging my tail at the attacker. The pincer tip swept up floor dust as it flew. But he had already leaped away the moment his strike missed.
My tail pincer crossed the airborne foe. His shoe scraped against it with a sharp screech. Dodging the low-flying attack by jumping, he bolted down the stairs opposite.
While he vanished, I gripped and yanked out the mop handle impaling my rear carapace.
My body's toughest parts? Head carapace, chest, tail pincer—three in total. They shrug off battleship guns, yet this crude spear punched a hole.
Fury boiled to the breaking point. I bit and crunched the broken mop handle before spitting it out.
This nagging rage messing with my head—it was getting hard to control. I wanted to grab another me and rip his head off right now.
...Calm. Calm down. Stay calm.
I fought the anger, replaying what just happened.
That move—he read my reaction.
Now I was sure. This me wasn't just my looks. He thought like me too.
He predicted I'd check the stairs, hid in the elevator behind for a sneak attack. If I'd been human facing an Aimorph in reality, I'd do the same.
Monster-obsessed me knows Aimorphs well: cannibal beasts, no talk, no deals. And escaping one's notice? Near impossible.
So only one path left: fight back.
Aimed for the head.
Aimorphs die if heart or brain's destroyed. If I hadn't noticed and ducked, that mop would've skewered my brain.
Grrr. Next time, subdue first.
Like he read me, I could read him. He's probably waiting below, weapon in hand.
Likely grabbed the fire axe. Grk.
Hallway downstairs has fire axe and extinguisher. My head carapace was weak enough for a mop spear; a fire axe? No chance.
I'm bigger, sure, but that widens my hitbox here.
Armed, he'd hide behind the door linking stairs and hall—not stairs, with sensors. Too cramped for a big foe like me anyway.
I eyed the stairwell he'd fled into, then the elevator he'd burst from.
Extending a wing-arm, I hit the elevator button. Ding—the doors parted. Inside, brightly lit, lay the mop's ragged head.
Good idea.
I boarded, wedged my tail in the doors, then pried the stainless ceiling with wing-arms. Clunk—it came free.
I crawled up the elevator shaft. Tail-tip hit the lower-floor button, of course.
Where he's waiting—grrr—the door linking stairs and hall. Grr.
Metallic groans as the elevator descended below. I repositioned the ceiling panel.
Stairs have motion sensors—he'll react to that.
Opposite the stairs: elevator. Even if I use it, he'll see. He's set to cleave my head with the axe whichever way I come.
But not this.
I wiped drool trickling from my jaws. Hunger? Or battle thrill? Some weird high gripped me.
Cheery chime—elevator stops. Doors parting, a thud echoes below.
Perfect timing for his axe swing.
"What the?"
His swing whiffed. I slammed the stainless down full-force with my tail. The hard pincer pierced the thin elevator ceiling's center.
"!"
He recoiled in panic. I snatched the extinguisher he'd left on the floor with my tail.
His red axe blade grazed my tail's outer shell.
"...Tch!"
He fled down the hall. I dropped from the ceiling, grabbed the extinguisher with a smaller chest-arm.
Did what he planned: sprayed powder everywhere, fogging the corridor.
"Cough?! Damn it, cough!"
Powder extinguisher blanketed like mist. Physiology got him—he hacked uncontrollably.
I charged into the hall while he was helpless.
"Get lost!"
The axe whistled viciously, slicing through powder. Aimed just above my head—if I'd crawled upside-down on the ceiling, blade hits dead-on. Like when I played Aimorph for real.
But I crept low, chin scraping floor. Axe bit deep into my rear head carapace.
Too deep to yank easy. He flinched, debating pull or retreat.
That hesitation? Mistake. I whipped a wing-arm, smacking him.
"Argh!"
Short scream as he slammed into the wall.
His blood scent hit—my mind filled with one thought.
Kill him. Drink his flowing blood. Bury my maw in his gut, chew innards. Devour every toe-tip.
Eat me for genetic essence.
"P-please! Somebody help! Please!"
Bleeding, crawling. I stabbed his thigh with claws.
"Aaaagh!"
Pathetic scream fueled my hunger.
Locked him with wing-arms, jaws agape.
Tears, snot, blood—his soaked face. Soon minced for my nutrients.
Teeth about to crunch his skull—
Unknown messages and indecipherable waves seized me.
What was that?
They vanished instantly, but the shock echoed in my mind.
What?
I dropped the foe—no, the other me.
Why'd I do that?
It hit me: plan was to restrain him, talk, figure the vision. Not eat him.
"H-heek! Monster! Die! Just die!"
He tried yanking the axe from my head carapace. I shoved his hand away, pulled it myself, hurled it far.
This isn't right. Need to communicate.
Grabbed thrashing me with wing-arms, wiped his blood with chest-arm. Wrote on floor.
"Wh-what?"
Talk. His eyes shook at the word. Then he shrieked.
"F-fuck! Lies! Aimorphs don't talk! Monster here! Help! Somebody!"
Irritation surged, but I crushed it. Careful not to hurt with wing-arms.
Patiently wrote more, conveying no harm.
Minutes later, he calmed.
Finally?
Stooped low, asked: Who are you?
"Who am I?"
He looked up.
"Dumbass. You know best, don't you?"
What?
Bloodied face expressionless.
Then, like replaying scripted emotion, smirked mockingly.
"Feels like you carry the world's misery alone? So many suffer. You're trash. Burn scar? Boo-hoo. Need family? You ditched the parents who sacrificed for you."
His words sapped strength from my wing-arms.
Freed, he stood rigid like a marionette.
"Like monsters? Only 'cause kids called you one. 'You mocked me, so I'll become the real monster'—that it?"
"Your 'tastes'—pathetic wank-fest, not even worth calling tastes."
He ranted, grabbed the fallen axe.
"Why games? Same reason. Escaping reality 'cause you can't hack it. Killing with game-logic even now. Can't kill 'real me'—scared it'd be actual murder."
He raised axe-hands high. Blade gleamed coldly under lights.
"Pathetic as you are, I'm 'you'. I'll help. Live reality."
"Bye, coward."
Words done, blood sprayed the hall. Agony made me curl instinctively.
Axe blade in my 'wing-arm' hurt plenty.
"You...?"
My monster tentacles quivered, conveying my will. Human or not, he couldn't parse the waves—no matter.
Other arm gripped his wrist.
Maybe at first.
Life-or-death excuse: achieve return to reality. Deep down, 'Space Survival' world as hideout.
Not anymore. Ask now? I'd deny firmly.
Ascension might split me from the kids. Or lose them before. Lose to another ranker. Die to strong foe pre-conditions.
Even so, our shared moments aren't worthless. Whatever my journey's end, I'll ensure their happy lives.
Until then, no dying. Ever.
And...
Not killing me here? Not mere murder fear.
"Let go, you fuck!"
Till I grasp this vision's intent, he lives. Just subdued by Aimorph.
Caught, he raged demon-faced, but Aimorph arms held firm.
"Stupid fuck! No time for this! Kill me or die by—...?!"
Spouted nonsense, then froze like paralyzed. Started convulsing. As he shook, corridor colors faded.
Space dissolving?
Outside—reality—my evolution finished.
His body blurred like the hall. Fierce face gone blank.
"O■ ■life, ■re■urn∬⫱⪿..."
Mumbled unknown words, vanished.
His gone, my senses plunged to dark.
Awake later, sticky mucus encased me.
Clawed the cocoon—familiar pink body appeared.
Number 26, who'd waited through my growth.
New family welcomed me.