The Shell (1)

Space Survival, for all its science fiction trappings, was not entirely devoid of fantasy elements.

The most prominent examples were the Cult — space-dwelling elves who wielded powers akin to magic — the psychic Vortex One, and the Gallagons, the dragons of the cosmos.

Plenty of other creatures could use psychic power, but these three species were unique in the way they wielded it like magic.

'You could compare them to elves, demons, and dragons, roughly.'

Gallagons, nicknamed the dragons of space, were so rare that ordinary players struggled to so much as lay eyes on one.

Perhaps because of that, plenty of rookies mistakenly believed the creatures actually looked like dragons, just as their nickname suggested.

'In reality, they're nothing alike.'

Their massive reptilian frames, the wings on their backs, the horned heads — all dragon-like enough — but where a mouth should be, there was instead a cluster of tendrils.

Gallagons fed on blood and psychic energy, so their oral structure was made of tentacles rather than anything resembling an ordinary animal's mouth.

And while a dragon's color was said to reflect its temperament, a Gallagon's color indicated its stage of growth — another key difference.

The Gallagon's Claws trait Sihyeon Yujin had given me came from White Gallagon genes. White meant mid-tier — roughly a Sub-adult in Amorph terms.

'I've never once gotten Gallagon's Claws this early before.'

Even a Blue Gallagon at Hatchling level was something you needed to reach Young Adult stage to hunt without difficulty. A White, two full tiers above that, went without saying.

The fact that I possessed Gallagon genes at all was already a wildly unprecedented achievement.

'No idea where she dug up something so precious, but...'

I was grateful, that much was certain.

Next to Gallagon's Claws came the trait I'd acquired: Camouflage Skin.

Truthfully, this ability deserved to be called the jackpot of everything Sihyeon Yujin had given me — it was that powerful.

'Honestly, I'm more curious where she caught a Giant Chameleon than a Gallagon.'

The Giant Chameleon was a herbivore, so its combat capability was next to worthless. It was fragile enough that even a Juvenile Amorph could hunt one without breaking a sweat.

The problem was that simply finding one was extraordinarily difficult.

The Giant Chameleon generated a special magnetic field from the protrusions on its skin.

This field rendered observation impossible through any equipment or trait. My auxiliary organ-type traits, electronic devices like cameras, psychic power — none of it worked.

Only the naked eye could see a Giant Chameleon, so spotting one in the first place was like plucking stars from the sky.

You might say, why not just go out and search one by one — but their habitat was unknown. There were thousands of planets in the game; who in their right mind would comb them all on the off chance one might appear?

In all my time playing an Amorph, I'd acquired Giant Chameleon essence exactly three times. That should tell you everything.

Even if an Amorph wanted to buy genes, there was no market for them. To obtain an essence, you had to hunt the prey yourself and trigger the Predation Effect.

You could theoretically trigger it by consuming massive quantities of samples or eating an already-dead corpse, but the acquisition rate through those methods was so abysmal it wasn't worth the trouble.

Which meant grinding it out firsthand was the best option.

'Though that grind is exactly how I got my hands on some valuable information — so maybe it's a win after all.'

I knew one thing about Camouflage Skin that even the rankers didn't.

That it could be fused with Mimicry.

Fuse the two, and an entirely new trait was born.

Nobody else knew this, so in the game, I was the only player who ever owned the fusion trait.

The trait created by fusing Mimicry with Camouflage Skin was called the Morphing Organ.

It made others who looked at me perceive me as the victim I had devoured.

The mechanism was slightly complicated, but simply put, it worked like this: first, the Morphing Organ analyzed the genetic information of the consumed victim. Then the skin emitted a specialized pheromone synthesized from that data, disrupting the senses of other living creatures.

As long as other beings remained within my pheromone's radius, they perceived me as the victim. And since the Mimicry effect persisted as well, replicating the victim's voice was, of course, included.

The pheromone's effective radius was generous too, so the effect held even at a distance.

It was, in short, the perfect trait for infiltration, ambushes, and chaotic melees alike.

'Well, it's not without its drawbacks.'

At a glance it looked like a cheat ability, but the downsides were considerable.

First, the Morphing Organ didn't actually alter my body. Since it deceived living ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠creatures through pheromones, machines like cameras recorded my true form unfiltered, and mirrors reflected me exactly as I was.

The mimicry itself wasn't perfect either. It copied the victim's appearance faithfully, but beyond simple movements, it couldn't express complex emotional shifts — joy, sorrow, and the like.

As a result, the uncanny valley effect was severe. Even the most unobservant person would feel something off just sharing a room with me long enough.

It also shared Mimicry's weaknesses: I couldn't manage long, complicated conversations while the effect was active, and consuming a new victim meant losing the ability to mimic the previous one.

'The drawbacks are clear, but there's still far more room to put this trait to work.'

The Morphing Organ had been one of my signature traits in the game. I knew exactly how to use it.

Last came Clairvoyance.

The first two traits were close to jackpots, but Clairvoyance was more subtle.

'It's a good trait, but...'

In Space Survival, Clairvoyance was Clairvoyance in name only — subtly different from the concept we knew in reality.

'It's closer to a form of extrasensory spatial perception.'

It didn't literally show you what was behind a wall; rather, it synthesized information from the surrounding environment and elements to reconstruct what was likely there.

But because that reconstruction was nearly identical to reality, it had earned the name Clairvoyance. In a sense, it resembled the precognition family of abilities.

Reading this far, something probably felt familiar.

Exactly — it was strikingly similar to the Amorph's Super Sense trait.

'Tch. If I were playing anything but an Amorph, this would be a great trait. Shame.'

Since the Amorph's Super Sense was essentially a superior version, Clairvoyance was little more than a display cabinet ornament.

'Still, Clairvoyance does count toward the psionic-related type.'

It wasn't immediately useful, but it was a rare psychic-adjacent trait. And I could always use it as fusion material later, so it beat having nothing.

The trait inspection was done. The text window had been waiting for my response for a while now.

I accepted every trait application.

The translucent text windows sprang up in a dizzying flurry, and I flinched.

'Monster's Tentacles?'

Before I could even question it, my body began to mutate. A sudden, sharp tug at the base of my skull was followed by a wave of itching that swept across my whole body.

A small bundle of tentacles rapidly elongated. The abrupt growth made my head feel heavy, and I could feel the tips of the tendrils draping over my shoulders.

Across my body, tiny holes were opening in the chitinous hide covering my skin. If someone with trypophobia examined my flesh through a magnifying glass, they'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠probably pass out.

A membrane-like layer formed over the freshly pocked holes, transforming the outer hide as though an intricate geometric pattern had been etched into it.

Since I hadn't advanced to the next evolutionary stage, the mutation ended quickly.

I ran a hand over the tentacles, now hanging long as an octopus's arms. No matter how I looked at them, they were identical to the tendrils at a Gallagon's mouth.

As far as I knew, Gallagons had no psionic organ. And their oral tentacles couldn't be acquired as a trait either — it would be like a human trying to obtain fingers or toes as a trait.

'...I don't know how it happened, but one thing's certain: I got a better weapon than mere claws.'

An unexpected result — but not a bad one.

'The Morphing Organ should turn out exactly as I expect.'

As for Clairvoyance, it was applied without any noticeable change. Still, it meant I was now one step closer to securing the psionic-related type.

'That makes four psionic-related traits.'

Predator Sense, Humanity, Monster's Tentacles, and Clairvoyance — four in total. Evolving into a Sub-adult from here would grant me the bonus trait Psionic Resistance, bringing the count to five.

In other words, one more and the psionic-related type would be mine.

And with that thought, something occurred to me.

I turned my gaze to No. 26, who had passed out mid-feeding and simply fallen asleep.

'A Sea Demon. Who would have thought.'

Countless marine-life enthusiasts had tracked the Sea Demon's ecology, yet no one had ever uncovered how a Sea Demon came to be. So everyone had accepted it as a matter of game design, myself included.

Until today, at least.

'Could it be that a mutated Bubble Amoeba evolves into a Sea Demon?'

Setting aside size, the two looked remarkably alike, and their ecologies were similar. And while the Sea Demon was a terror so fearsome it was called the tyrant of the seas, the Bubble Amoeba never ate flesh.

Perhaps that was precisely because the two were kin.

Whether No. 26 was a Sea Demon — or a mutation capable of evolving into one — mattered enormously to my current situation.

'...Sea Demons do have a psionic-related trait.'

Fear of the Deep Sea — a trait that drove everyone within a certain radius into madness. It resembled the Red Mist's hallucinogenic ability, except its range was incomparably wider, and being a passive trait, it was always active.

An enormously powerful ability — but because the Sea Demon was a monster dangerous enough to require multiple rankers hunting together, acquiring the trait was far from easy.

'In a way, it's just as rare as Gallagon's Claws.'

And a being that might possess that very trait lay right in front of me. Infinitely weaker than a true Sea Demon, in its current state.

'No.'

I deliberated only briefly before shaking my head firmly.

There was no certainty that No. 26 was really a mutation capable of becoming a Sea Demon. Even if it were true, there was no guarantee the Predation Effect would trigger.

'...I've eaten worse odds before.'

Hunting and evolving alone was plenty enjoyable in its own right, but traveling alongside another being was a novel experience too.

A hunter must always pursue learning. Only by accepting everything with an open mind does one's field of vision widen — and one grow stronger.

I stroked No. 26. The creature was useful to me, a valuable asset, and I intended to make the most of that help for as long as my own life wasn't on the line.

Having shaken off my thoughts about No. 26, I headed to the cockpit and switched navigation from manual to automatic.

｢Please set a destination.｣

'A destination, huh.'

Pressing the buttons on the console with a small hand summoned several candidates as holograms.

The default setting was some planet under MegaCorp's control — the research vessel's original target.

'No need to go there, though.'

MegaCorp's planets housed large-scale garrisons. The details varied from world to world, but facing them in my current state was flatly impossible.

'Where's the closest place from here again?'

I sifted through my memories, surveying the places we might reasonably go. Along the way, a familiar name caught my eye.

'T&C Special Trade Hub.'

A colossal space colony floating in open space — a place I knew well.

'That'll do nicely.'

In the game it had been a famous gathering point where players converged to trade. With every conceivable genetic essence flowing through it, it was a place I'd visited regularly myself.

'And I caught an absolutely endless amount of flak for it, too.'

Cries of "you cowardly Morph-fucker bastard!" rang out everywhere, but what could I say — that was simply what the Amorph race was. If it bothered them so much, they were welcome to play an Amorph themselves.

Granted, an Amorph wouldn't exactly refrain from eating them either.

Either way, a colony where so many different species gathered would make excellent nourishment for my growth.

｢Recalculating course to T&C Special Trade Hub. Time remaining to arrival: three hours.｣

Three hours. I decided to rest briefly before we arrived.

The meal had replenished my energy, but the back-to-back fighting had drained my mind considerably.

I made my way to the bed and lay down beside No. 26. Stroking the creature as it burrowed into the crook of my body, I slowly drifted into sleep.

The capital planet of Star Union: Jax-01.

Rain tainted by black smog poured down — water stripped of even a single glimmer of light.

Follow a falling raindrop down, and you'd find factories belching exhaust fumes without rest.

Wherever you went on the planet, you saw the same things: factories, smog, and photographs plastered on every building.

A photo of a man with mechanical eyes, arms crossed, wearing a stern expression — pinned to homes, shops, and factories alike, without discrimination.

The man in the photograph was Jubaka. Great Leader of Star Union, and the one whom all cyborgs regarded as their parent.

Every cyborg walking the streets saluted the photograph each time they passed it, and not a single one found this strange. Here, in Star Union, it was simply the natural order of things.

Amid this procession of eerie scenery, there stood one building without a photograph.

A place that looked like an abandoned structure.

Beneath it, in its depths, existed a facility unknown to the cyborgs above.

In stark contrast to the grim world overhead, a spotless medical room — devoid of even a speck of dust — housed a medical capsule.

The capsule, shaped like a coffin of purest white, hummed with a mechanical whir and slowly opened.

The moment the lid parted, a stark-white arm shot out from within.

"Haahk! Kgh— khaagh...!"

The arm belonged to a woman. Black hair, a slender frame — she coughed as she pushed herself upright.

Her name was Sihyeon Yujin.

No — to be precise, she was Sihyeon Yujin's clone.

As one of the Yujin Family's Shadows, Sihyeon Yujin was a being so powerful that finding her equal would have been a challenge — but she had not been born that way.

Back when her genetic modification was still incomplete, she had taken out an insurance policy for the future.

She had arranged for a clone to take her place in the event of her death.

In MegaCorp, human cloning above all else was a kind of taboo. And so she had hidden her clone away in one of MegaCorp's rival states.

"Never thought *I'd* be the clone..."

Sihyeon looked down at her own body. Newly born flesh, white and smooth as porcelain, met her eyes — a beautiful body, and one utterly foreign to her.

It had to be. Parts of her original genes hadn't been carried over to the clone. The Gallagon's Claws she'd possessed, the Red Mist's hallucinogenic powers, and countless other genetic abilities had all been lost.

How much longer it would take to recover the genes that monster had stripped from her, she couldn't say. Her grand design had suffered a devastating setback, and she ground her teeth.

"...That damned bastard. Next time I see him, I'll scoop his brain out of his skull."

Sihyeon Yujin's eyes darkened, steeped deep in venomous hatred.

In the hour when light sleeps and starlight wakes, the Port District of T&C Special Trade Hub was still bustling.

Workers in coveralls, businessmen in suits, alien species come to sightsee — every imaginable kind of sentient being hurried about beneath the dazzling neon signs.

Carpenter, who worked the Port District, was among them, pulling the night shift.

He was on break, reading a web novel on his pocket terminal, when his comm unit lit up.

Beep.

｢Hey, Carpenter. You busy?｣

"Howard? What is it?"

｢A MegaCorp escape ship just docked.｣

"Where's it from?"

｢Control tower tried to hail it and got nothing. Autopilot was engaged, so sounds like something went wrong aboard.｣

"Another runaway rich brat, huh. I'll go check it out."

｢Bay seven.｣

When Carpenter reached the spot his coworker had described, an ostentatiously decorated escape vessel came into view. Whistling at the small ship — which was clearly had money poured into it by the fistful — Carpenter approached.

"Good grief. Which young master ran away from home in secret this time, I wonder."

Escape ships carrying youths of the upper Capital families attempting to flee their gilded cages docked here now and then. Convinced this was another such case, Carpenter rapped on the escape ship's door.

"Anyone inside, come on out."

He waited a while, but no answer came.

Sighing, Carpenter pulled out his hacking equipment. He connected a cable to the terminal beside the door and worked the device — and the escape ship's door slid open without resistance.

"What on earth did you do in here, cutting the lights too?"

The interior was pitch dark, without a single light. Flicking on the lantern mounted on his hard hat, Carpenter surveyed the cabin.

"Where'd they go?"

Liquor bottles on the floor, a wrecked cockpit — plenty of traces that someone had been here, but no people anywhere.

"Huh?"

Something sticky clung to the sole of his shoe. He looked down and found a strange liquid pooled on the floor.

"What is this stuff?"

As he was prodding it with his fingers, a drop of liquid fell from above. Following the falling liquid, Carpenter's gaze climbed upward.

It was on the ceiling.

"Hey, where'd Carpenter go?"

"Huh? Said he was knocking off early today."

"Really? The guy who says he's gotta save for a house, leaving early?"

"Yeah. There he goes now."

Howard turned his head at his coworker's words. Some twenty meters away, he spotted Carpenter walking.

"Hey! Carpenter!"

"......"

At Howard's shout, Carpenter stopped dead in his tracks.

By sheer coincidence, the spot where he stood was a dark side alley, beyond the reach of the streetlamps.

It was so dim that even at close range, his upper body was swallowed by shadow, his outline lost entirely.

'Why the hell is he standing in a place like that?'

Looking at Carpenter, Howard was suddenly seized by an odd feeling. It was definitely him — the gait, the clothes all checked out — and yet somehow it felt like he was looking at something else entirely.

"Hey, weren't you working late tonight? Heading home already?"

"Yeah. Busy."

"The site foreman didn't give you grief?"

"Said I'm busy, so I'm going."

With that, Carpenter vanished into the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠darkness of the alley. Strangely enough, the moment he disappeared, the vague unease that had been gnawing at some corner of Howard's mind evaporated completely.

"...Son of a bitch. Even when you talk to him, he's like that?"

"Leave him be. Probably his time of the month. Heh heh."

Howard returned to work alongside his snickering coworker.

The next day, Carpenter did not come to the Port District.