Evil Spirit (1)

Every trait and skill that exists in Space Survival belonged to a specific category.

Wings, for instance, or the Chitinous Carapace — the very first traits I'd ever obtained — fell under the Physical category, while the Psionic Organ I'd gained by devouring a Kisaragi belonged to the Psionic category.

So which category held the densest concentration of the most powerful traits?

Ask me, or any other ranker, and the answer would come without a moment's hesitation.

The Abyssal Power category, home to the Vortex One's exclusive traits.

And the Dragon Power category, usable only by Red Gallagons. Those two, and nothing else.

There was a reason both were so overpowering. The Vortex One was the species that appeared as the final boss of the Outspacer campaign — an entire race classified as boss-tier, so naturally their exclusive traits were overwhelmingly strong. And the Red Gallagon was one of the mightiest creatures in the entire game, an NPC even rankers struggled to handle.

That was why neither power could be wielded through ordinary means. There were ways, technically — but they were either brutally difficult or came with crushing risk.

So let me reframe the question.

Of the categories containing traits and skills that ordinary players could actually get their hands on, which was the strongest?

The answer varied from ranker to ranker, but most would point to the Psionic category — the school that dealt in psychic power.

The Psionic category was packed with traits and skills boasting the versatility to be applied across all kinds of situations.

The Physical category had its share of versatility too, but physical skills and traits suffered from one fatal limitation: everything they offered was devoted to physical attack and defense, leaving them dangerously weak against non-physical threats.

Psychic power, by contrast, could exert tremendous physical force while simultaneously delivering destruction to the mind, the soul, and everything in between.

Because of this lopsided game design, the Outspacers — who could never acquire psychic abilities at all — and the cyborgs of the Star Union, who being half machine could counter psionics only through equipment, fell further and further behind as the game wore on.

Players who chose biological races like the MegaCorp could acquire psychic power through genetic modification. When you were forced to compete against that without any psionics of your own, of course the going got rough.

The lone flaw of psionic traits and skills was that they were hard to obtain — and even that problem vanished the moment you played a Cult.

Cult users made up about thirty percent of the player base, wasn't it?

Among rankers, the Cult's share ran even higher than among the general population. Of the twenty rankers who'd seen the ending, a full nine of them had played Cult.

And one of those nine was Korean. How do I know? Because I fought him myself.

Tough opponent, that one.

He fought far better than I'd expected — better than any Cult had a right to.

For all the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠faction's power, genuinely skilled Cult players were rare.

Psychic power had been built on motifs drawn from the classic superpowers we all knew — telekinesis, telepathy, and the like.

Because of that, its mechanics tended to be abstract rather than intuitive, built on complex structures that demanded a deep understanding from the wielder.

In other words, a player's creative use of psychic power made the difference between heaven and earth in terms of raw effectiveness.

The Korean Cultist I'd fought belonged squarely in the category of creative players.

Not just good — an absolute fossil of a veteran, that guy.

He showed me ways of wielding psychic power I couldn't have imagined in my wildest dreams, and trying to improvise counters during our fights nearly pulled my hair out by the roots.

Though I learned a lot because of it.

I won in the end, but our battles taught me a wealth of new knowledge.

I'd always leaned heavily on psionic traits myself, but after facing that Korean Cultist, my understanding of psychic power deepened enormously.

And now, at last, the time had come to put that experience to use.

To properly exploit psionic traits, I need a Type.

Securing the Psionic Enhancement Type would make me a valid target for the Perfect Organism's effects — because the Perfect Organism amplified the effects of whatever Type its bearer possessed.

Which meant every psychic trait I owned would be strengthened twofold. I still didn't have enough psychic traits at my disposal, so for now I'd have to win on raw output alone.

I've waited long enough. Unlock the Type.

At my command, the text box melted away into empty air, and the mutation began.

My body possessed exactly two external organs for channeling psychic power: the auxiliary organ beneath my jaw, and the bundle of tentacles at the back of my head. The auxiliary organ underwent no dramatic change; instead, the transformation centered on the tentacle bundle tied to my Monster's Tentacles trait, and the area surrounding it.

The carapace covering my head shifted first.

Before, it had been smooth and simple — nothing but a pair of jutting horns to break the clean lines. Not anymore. The rear plating that protected my skull now spread wider, forming a protective canopy over the tentacles beneath it.

Its surface gained ridges and engraved patterns, its silhouette far more intricate than before. If the old head carapace could be compared to a horned helm, the new one was a crown. An absolutely enormous crown.

The size would shrink once the effect of the Hunter's Avatar wore off, but the fact remained that I now looked far more magnificent than before.

Along with the carapace, the tentacle bundle itself had transformed dramatically.

The tentacles that had once been thin and long — closer to strands of hair — were now vastly thicker, long enough to spill down over my shoulders.

Their color had changed as well. Where they used to be the same dark umber as my outer hide, they now gleamed a vivid violet, saturated with psychic energy.

The instant the tentacles finished their mutation, a tingling warmth spread across my entire body. My psychic resistance had been reinforced, and it announced itself openly on my hide.

And so vivid violet tattoos bloomed across my formerly uniform dark-brown shell, tracing the lines of my veins as they spread from head to tail.

Thanks to the Hunter's Avatar, my eyes were currently sealed shut — but my auxiliary organs had developed enough that I could feel every change wracking my body as vividly as if I were watching it with my own eyes.

And with that, the transformation was complete.

Something's different.

Everything I saw and sensed had changed. My auxiliary organs, too, had received the Type's blessing — the range and breadth of my perception had widened enormously.

Now I could detect psychic power even when no Cult was actively wielding it.

Faint violet energies drifting through this hospital, through this very space. Things I could never have seen before.

So this is what it feels like.

In the game, detecting psychic users amounted to nothing more than a purple marker on the minimap. Was it precisely because this was reality that I could now taste that same wonder I'd felt when I first opened my eyes as a Hatchling?

With senses this sharp, I'll pick up a Cultist's attack before they even launch it.

I'd always been able to sense the flow of psychic power through my auxiliary organs, but never with this degree of precision. Any future fight against Cults or psionic enemies would be vastly easier.

Type secured, I climbed back up to the hospital's first floor, satisfaction humming through me.

The Metal Absorption effect was still active. All that remained was to return to the nest, where the kids were waiting.

The moment I moved to cross the lobby, something strange snagged at my senses.

With those words, the sensation — like watching footage on fast-forward — cut off abruptly.

Predator Sense?

Only the format was the same. Everything else was different.

Predator Sense activated only in moments of mortal danger, and it rendered fragmentary glimpses of an ugly future — not reality playing out in full.

What I'd just seen, though, was far more detailed than usual. It had shown me who was speaking, where they were coming from. Everything.

Has the Hunter's Avatar amplified my Predator Sense too?

The Avatar's effect strengthened every trait I possessed. My best guess was that the Psionic Enhancement Type and the Avatar's effect had layered together in a triple stack, letting Predator Sense render a threat far further in the future, and with far greater precision, than ever before.

Which means there's still time before they get here.

Someone might say: just slip away in the meantime. But if that had been an option, Predator Sense would never have triggered in the first place.

The station sits right along their route here.

My cloaking effect was still holding, but the problem was that they could detect me. If I walked out like this, they'd spot me instantly.

Fighting them isn't the problem in itself...

There were simply too many enemies. Even if I somehow managed to wipe them all out, the time remaining was pitifully short. The odds of my cloaking wearing off mid-battle were high.

And even if I took a detour, there are the ones lying in wait.

Six knights were stationed at the station's entrance — no matter which route I chose, a fight was unavoidable.

Time is the real problem.

In my Hunter's Avatar state, killing six of them would be easy. Killing them without anyone noticing was the hard part.

The entire reason I'd come to this hospital was to keep the city from discovering what I was. Sneaking out safe and sound while flaunting myself in broad view would be the very definition of putting the cart before the horse.

Should I call the kids?

It was 10:30 at night.

At this hour, inspections ran inside the station — all part of the Board of Directors preparations. The Board hadn't started yet, so odds were good the inspections were happening tonight too.

That's when I ate the station worker last time, after all.

I'd explained the plan to No. 26 before coming here. I'd told her: when I signal, if the station interior is dark, come out.

Sea Demons were deep-sea creatures, hypersensitive to light. No. 26 could surely detect a broader spectrum of light than even I could — following the plan would pose no difficulty for her.

But talk is one thing and reality is another. Timing my signal properly is everything.

I thought the pincer operation between me and the kids was sound, but its success hinged above all on me delivering the signal at exactly the right moment.

My auxiliary organs are upgraded now, so if I focus, reading the situation inside the station shouldn't be hard— no, wait.

A different thought struck me in that instant.

I sent out the same wavelength I always used to reach No. 26.

[Zz·Zzz·Zz (you, there?)]

｢...Big Baby?｣

[Zzz·Zz·Zz (it's, me, you, there?)]

｢Big Baby, what's wrong?｣

It works!

I'd tried it half expecting failure, just on the off chance — and it had actually worked.

The means by which I spoke with No. 26 was this very organ, the psionic tentacles mounted at the back of my skull.

Before I had this organ, I could hear what No. 26 said, but speaking back to her had been impossible.

Now the old communication ability had been reborn fused into the Monster's Tentacles — the original function had survived the merge. I'd been putting it to good use in every conversation with her.

And that was exactly why I'd forgotten.

Forgotten that the function enabling our communication was itself subject to the Psionic Enhancement Type's effects.

｢Are you on your way to the nest?｣

[Zzz·Zzzzz·Zzz (no, something, else)]

｢What is it? Want me to help?｣

With this, there was no longer any need for me to time a call to her perfectly. I could simply tell her directly.

I told No. 26 that I would signal her soon, and to get ready. While she prepared, I had preparations of my own to make.

Better safe than sorry — let me check all the traits ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I just picked up.

When the text boxes had scrolled past earlier, I'd skipped them — nothing there I urgently needed, nothing on the level of Insight. There had been plenty of time to review them back at the nest.

But circumstances had changed. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I might be delayed getting home, so I'd claim them now.

Tally of traits gained at the hospital: five, not counting William. Three from knights, two from civilians.

The Hunter's Avatar raised the probability of Predation — it did not guarantee a successful harvest. Even eating far more people than I had, the odds of every single Predation Effect triggering were vanishingly small.

Still, the number of traits I'd claimed in so short a span was almost embarrassingly generous compared to my usual haul.

Apply everything, then go all-in.

I summoned the text box and scanned its contents at speed.

No need to ask twice. Apply all of them.

When I had first obtained the Perfect Organism, the text box had left me with these words:

Evolution knows no end.

Your body will evolve anew, driven by the Genetic Essences newly taken in.