Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Laying the Trap
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‘Before heading out, let’s take care of this first.’
While No. 26 was busy devouring the brain, there was something I needed to handle. I sliced off the neighbor’s ankle and stashed it in the fridge.
‘Once Ras has served his purpose, I’ll need to mimic this guy.’
The Mimicry organ is a trait that analyzes genes by consuming flesh and replicates them. Unlike triggering the Predation Effect, there’s no need to eat every last bit of meat.
‘No point storing the whole thing—just a portion will do.’
Sticking it in the fridge should slow down the decay a bit. Even so, it probably wouldn’t last more than a couple of days.
With the body taken care of, I pulled out the communicator.
‘Next up...’
Who to call?
Scanning the contacts, Ras’s social circle was pathetically small. Aside from the team leader, there weren’t many who seemed like they’d know a broker.
‘The team leader’s too risky.’
Just like on the research ship, a team leader in the space city’s government offices meant mid-level Capital or higher.
Even lowballing it, Middle Capital—at best, Third Capital if higher up the chain. A total different league from someone disposable like Ras.
‘If he vanished, they’d notice immediately.’
This wasn’t like when I killed Kisaragi Yujin.
She was Noble Capital—way above what anyone on that research ship could handle.
Mega Corp was a cutthroat meritocracy, but paradoxically a rigid pyramid where class mobility had ossified.
The higher the Capital rank, the more brutally they kept underlings from climbing.
Noble Capital sat at the absolute peak of the Mega Corp pyramid, so it stood to reason they were the worst.
That fear of Noble Capital retaliation had everyone dragging their feet on her sudden death. Their timid response ended up bringing them greater misfortune, ironically.
‘Funny how the death of someone at the top gets buried, while a nobody’s gets noticed.’
Besides, the smuggling animal management team looked swamped as it was. If the boss vanished amid all that, it’d cause a uproar. Better pick someone else.
‘Not this one... not him either... huh?’
While sifting through messages on the communicator, one contact popped up repeatedly. Nothing but “Heading to the joint after work?” but it was the person Ras messaged most.
‘Promising.’
The guy’s name was Lloyd. A friend who shared Ras’s shady hobby.
In the T&C Special Trade Center, “joints” meant those infamous spots even online communities raved about. Places that laid bare the grim, dystopian underbelly.
Ethics debates had even made the news a few times.
Anyone indulging in that kind of immoral entertainment might know a thing or two about brokers.
‘Seems close to Ras, too...’
They’d messaged as recently as yesterday, so they must be tight.
I used a small arm to fire off a message to Lloyd.
I’d jumped the gun bringing up smuggling, but no choice. I had no clue how Ras usually talked or phrased things. The longer the chat dragged, the more holes I’d poke in my cover.
‘Better keep it short and sweet.’
He’d been replying instantly, but now there was a pause—like he needed to think. A few minutes ticked by before the communicator buzzed again.
Lloyd must’ve brought up smuggling with Ras before. Ras had turned it down, apparently.
I’d blurted that meetup out on impulse, but Lloyd didn’t bat an eye. Smooth sailing.
‘Things are falling into place.’
I sent him the location and time.
The spot was an alley on the edge of the Port District—right by the manhole linked to the underground secret passage.
Evening. The city buzzed day or night, but light versus dark was worlds apart. To slink through shadows, night was ideal.
‘Eat him after he clocks out—no loose ends.’
His reply came quick. Rambling about how solo joint visits would suck now that I’d quit.
‘Won’t be bored.’
He’d walk the same path as Ras soon enough.
‘Got confirmation.’
Plenty of time till evening. Harvesting gene essence here was optional, so I’d kill time in the apartment.
｢I’m stuffed.｣
Glancing at No. 26, the little guy had ballooned from gorging. He waddled onto the plush bed and conked out.
‘Still a hatchling—needs his sleep.’
I tucked him in, then fired up the laptop. Better review the list before meeting Ras’s coworker Lloyd.
Scrolling meticulously, I flagged cases with multiples of the same creature seized.
‘Predation Effect’s probabilistic, so more of a species, the better.’
Wild assortment. All creatures I’d seen at least once in-game, though some made me question if smugglers really tried hauling them.
‘Mountain Crawler young? How’d they even catch that? And... oh?’
Admiring the smugglers’ handiwork, an unusual name caught my eye.
‘Caught Outspacers?’
Checking details: transport field blank. Meant they were still here.
‘Twenty of them.’
No queen mentioned, so just drones, but that was jackpot enough.
‘Outspacer genes are gold.’
Outspacers were an alien race from beyond space in lore. Collect genes to evolve, hostile to outsiders—lots like Aimorph.
Differences: players controlled hives, not singles, and they could communicate and cooperate among themselves.
Put simply, Aimorph drew from Tyranids; Outspacers from classic Zerg.
I’d grinded Outspacers plenty, obsessed with aliens.
‘Basically Aimorph’s upgrade.’
Pick Outspacers, become the hive queen, grow the colony. Capture critters, absorb genes—those traits pass to your drones.
Stronger drones snag better genes, colony expands. Classic queen mechanics.
Unlike pitiful Aimorph treatment, Outspacers were hailed in communities as high-potential hard mode.
Player choices shaped wildly different colonies.
Once past brutal early game, they snowballed—beloved by performance chasers over concept players.
‘Still prefer Aimorph.’
Playing Aimorph? Snag Outspacer genes whenever possible. Tons of useful traits, plus ties to type unlocks.
‘Prioritize these first.’
Twenty’s not many, but eating live ones—not samples—boosted Predation odds nicely.
I marked other tasty prospects too. Shame smuggling rarely hauled ten-plus of anything.
‘Might not yield many traits even sweeping it all.’
That’d come down to luck.
By the time I finished picking targets, shadows thickened the room.
Hunt time.
I woke No. 26, and we slipped out.
Dank darkness blanketed the city. Streetlights flared in the dim residential district.
‘Broke ‘em last time ‘cause people were around...’
Late nights meant cop patrols near residential zones.
I’d smashed lamps to dodge eyes before, but doing it repeatedly would draw suspicion. Tonight, skirt them.
I leaped rooftops and walls, bounding between cramped apartments.
Gaps were wide, but Leg Strength Enhancement handled it. Landings? Wings out to muffle noise.
‘Pre-rush hour—few people. Lucky.’
Manhole cover neared fast. But I hung back, hiding.
｢Baby, what’s wrong?｣
｢Enemy?｣
A combat android patrolled the manhole.
‘Combat model.’
Unlike the pirate ship ones, this had three arms: two human-like, plus a waist-mounted combat right arm with a Gauss rifle.
‘Weird. Androids packing Gauss rifles?’
Gauss rifles ranked below plasma weapons—high firepower for shredding heavy armor. Like a budget plasma gun.
Plasma’s pricey, and so were Gauss rifles for grunts or bots. Cost more than basic reinforced suits, and ammo? Exorbitant.
‘Tungsten rounds’ll do that.’
Standard android loadouts weren’t this beefy, far as I knew.
City had cash, but not enough to splash tungsten ammo like water on some patrol bot.
Unless something special warranted Gauss-armed androids.
‘Event or festival?’
T&C Special Trade Center hosted tons of events in-game. Tourist magnet—no shock if some fest I didn’t know was brewing.
Fests drew riffraff, so security ramped up. Armed-up androids? Could be festival-related.
‘Good luck or bad?’
Slipped in fine, but a fest tomorrow? Poor timing.
While I pondered, the heavy-armed bot wandered off from the manhole. Waited till clear, then approached.
Lifted the human-proof lid like nothing, dropped No. 26 in first. Scanned surroundings once more, then followed.
As the cover clanged shut, pitch-black void—like a black hole—swallowed us.
｢Baby, where we going?｣
No blindness for us. He sensed air currents and waves with his body; I had auxiliary organs.
I saw it: narrow tunnel, five meters high, stretching into the earth.
Floors littered with old worker trash, cigarette butts flicked through manhole gaps from above.
Walls shed dust rhythmically from subway vibrations.
I led No. 26 onward.
‘Drop spores en route.’
Planned to nest first, but festival changes things. Early surveillance net for surprises.
Activated the contamination organ on my lower-right combat arm. Viscous dark-brown slime laced with spores oozed out. Spore clumps drifted, methodically claiming the tunnel.
Contamination was upgradable—two days, they’d thrive like my own nests.
‘Net’s set.’
By the time spores lined the residential-to-port route, we arrived. Cracked the manhole, peeked out.
‘Empty, as expected.’
District border—nobody walks it. Subway for cross-district, not feet.
｢Why? I wanna come.｣
Recalling Ras’s terror, he deflated glumly. Harsh truth—people feared No. 26.
Hid him below the manhole, headed to the meet spot. No sign of Lloyd yet. Activated Mimicry, crouched in the gloomy alley.
‘Here he comes.’
About ten minutes in, a figure approached from afar.