Chapter 291
Chapter 291
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 291
Chapter Title: Moving (4)
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Even in an era where humans freely leap between the stars, some things remain unchanged.
An age where genes can be manipulated at will, planetary environments reshaped, and massive metal structures moved on a stellar scale.
Humans can now recreate the miracles of gods right in the palm of their hands.
Yet, there are things that neither change nor can be changed: the inherent limitations of humanity as a species.
Death, extinction. Problems that wielders of divine miracles can never truly solve, for they are not gods themselves. Fears of these manifest in various forms.
Myths of infinite malevolence lurking in the depths of the universe.
Tales of landing on an uninhabited planet, departing, and finding the ship's crew has inexplicably increased.
Rumors of a ship that was fully crewed and fine at departure, only to arrive empty of all souls.
Ironically, even in the space age, ghost stories persist. They've merely evolved to remind humans of their limits and stir primal fears.
Yamada, leader of the rescue fleet team at the Mega Corp space fortress in the OS-255 star system, had heard plenty of such tales in the past.
Once a mere crewman himself, no spooky story escaped his ears. Sailors crossing the vast sea of stars had little else to share over drinks.
But nothing had ever chilled him to the bone like the report he received right as he was drifting off to sleep.
"No contact from the Gigacracker?"
He felt the true meaning of a chill running down his spine.
｢Affirmative. Regular check-in time has passed with no response.｣
"It hasn't been completely lost, has it?"
｢Negative. The Gigacracker's energy signature is still present.｣
The rescue fleet was equipped to track the unique energy traces of Gigacrackers. As long as the ship wasn't utterly destroyed or the trail too old, they could follow it.
"...That's a relief, at least. Wake everyone and prep for immediate departure."
｢Understood!｣
Ending the call with his subordinate, he broadcast an emergency signal across the entire fleet.
"All rescue fleet units, this is an alert. Signal lost from Gigacracker No. 14! Signal lost from Gigacracker No. 14!"
Five minutes after the transmission.
The rescue fleet assembled in the space outside the fortress.
A standard ship issue wouldn't have drawn them this fast. Only the unprecedented crisis of a Gigacracker blackout could muster them so swiftly.
"Gigacracker energy signature? Still steady?"
"Yes, sir. Holding position unchanged."
"...Might be Star Union agents."
Obviously, a Gigacracker being stolen by rivals was far worse than its destruction. Planetary vulnerabilities were secondary; the real nightmare was reverse-engineering.
Only Saint K knew the fabrication methods and core tech. A leak would devastate them.
An enraged Noble Capital would unleash hell, and fleet members like them would face punishments beyond mere firing—luxuries they'd never afford.
"All ships report FTL drive ready."
At Yamada's command, the assembled fleet glowed blue. The star-like illumination piercing the black void vanished in an instant.
Minutes later, they emerged in a distant star system. FTL engines had shrunk months-long light-speed journeys to mere minutes.
"Target destination reached."
"No stragglers."
"No damage."
"Good. Project the Gigacracker's status hologram."
As reports flowed, a hologram of the star system's interior lit up the command center.
Ship exterior cameras soon overlaid the Gigacracker's image: a 2km-diameter sphere, with analysis data beside it.
"Position unchanged... Huh?"
The crewman trailed off mid-report.
But Yamada didn't reprimand him.
The hologram readings were unnervingly off.
'Emissions spiking dramatically?'
Just like an ion cannon priming. Realization paled Yamada's face.
"E-Evade! Evasive maneuvers, now!"
"Aye, sir!"
Other ships caught on too, scattering from formation. Meanwhile, the hologram metrics maxed out, flashing red.
As they peaked, the ship AI's flat voice echoed through the center.
｢High-energy reaction detected ahead.｣
"Grab onto anything!"
The two shouts overlapped as a massive shock rocked the vessel.
In Space Survival, almost no player hates superweapons.
It makes sense.
They're the chance to wield those planet-scorching, fleet-wiping armaments we've seen in so many space stories.
Beyond the sci-fi romance, they're mechanically solid. Their raw power bypasses defenses effortlessly.
Only equal might counters them. In battles between rankers, clans, or factions, superweapons tip the scales.
I've struggled against foes with them plenty. Hiding on a planet? They just blast it.
Yet few players hold superweapons long-term.
The reasons tie directly to those strengths.
They grant overwhelming edges, drawing interference. Enemies covet them; allies sabotage secretly, fearing betrayal.
They're also conspicuous. Immense offense doesn't mean tough hides—missteps invite concentrated fire.
High costs are icing on the cake.
Realism keeps long-term owners rare, but superweapons still inspire envy.
That's their destructive allure.
And right now, one stirs at my command.
The Gigacracker's core: the colossal ion cannon, capable of shattering asteroids and dwarf stars in one shot.
A cyan beam erupts from its hundreds-of-meters-wide barrel. It resembles Crystal Wing's particle beam but dwarfs it in scale and devastation. Comparing a star-buster to a creature is absurd anyway.
Beautiful death cleaves the cosmic dark, hurtling toward its mark.
Not a star this time, but ships: the rescue fleet arriving to "save" it.
Newly arrived foes panic. They never dreamed the Gigacracker would target them. Too late for dispersal—the beam is upon them.
Collision births a brilliant flash.
No grand fleet-battle fireworks. More like a wave erasing a sandcastle. Hundreds of battleships, destroyers, frigates alike vanished without trace.
'In the game, I was the one dodging that.'
Even as an Adult, countering superweapons is limited. Unique Trait or not. Only stacking the mightiest Apex traits might match it.
'Like with the Imperial Mothership.'
Blocking its cosmic bolt took Adult form, Monster King, God's Whip, and triple-headed Psychic Breath—all in.
Rare in-game; I usually ended fights pre-activation. Fail? Become those ships.
'All done.'
The Gigacracker's lotus-like hull, bloomed for firing, folded back to sphere form. Dormant ion cannon within.
'Hence the "tangerine" nickname.'
I watched from space, shrouded in my Dark Veil, from start to finish.
'My turn now.'
Survivors: swift frigates and quick-thinking battleships that evaded.
Can't let them escape.
Veil active, I charged. Survivors scattered as I neared.
Veil's cloaking material scrambles sensors; to them, I'm a massive energy blob.
Post-cannon chaos left them disorganized.
Slipping between, I whipped my right tail at a nearby frigate. Now smaller than me, it split under the pincer strike.
Other limbs busy too. Pipes belched not Veil, but Gremlin Moss boosted by Great Infectant—as smog.
Moss clouds crippled machines, latching onto remnants. Ships flickered, then stalled.
Flanks' dual heads handled prey. Right melted a hull with enhanced acid breath; left bit, then hurled it at another.
Combat arms shifted to scythes or hook-claws via Variable Bio-Weaponry, bashing close foes while morphing to toy with them.
As frigates dwindled, foes seemed to clock their attacker. Survivors retreated, unleashing main batteries.
Plasma barrages hammered me—painful, but negligible compared to before.
'Want a gunfight?'
They did, so I obliged.
Heads paused independent action, aligning forward per my will.
Dragon Hearts pumped vast energy skyward. Psychic power, once head-focused, split threefold. Monster tentacles absorbed, writhing.
Threshold hit, they breathed fire.
Dragon's Breath—surpassing origins—engulfed ships. Power below superweapon, but breath-proof? No. Battleships melted through armor; frigates atomized.
Judgment passed; nothing stirred.
Just a graveyard of twisted wrecks.
'Clean up and head home.'
One final purple inferno torched the debris.
Erasing all traces of the rescue fleet, I turned away.
The kids await in our new home.