----------------------------------------------------------------- Translator: Ryuma Chapter: 9 Chapter Title: Feast Among the Dead ----------------------------------------------------------------- It's an era where life holds little value. These days, no one bats an eye at the idea of buying human lives with money. The funny thing is, even in this dystopian society we've become, the custom of honoring the dead lingers on. Corpses that could just be tossed into the void of space are kept so reverently like this. The morgue held the two bodies I'd created. If not for the guards, I would've dropped down and torn into them right away. 'Three outside, one inside.' The security outside was unusually heavy, probably because two people had died. All three were clad in reinforced suits. 'One-on-one, maybe. But three? No way.' A prolonged fight would draw reinforcements, so avoiding combat with them was the smart play. 'And the one inside is a civilian.' The scent of disinfectant and formaldehyde wafted from him—he was a doctor. Earbuds in, he was lost in his music. 'Stealth attack's my only shot.' The problem? He was facing right toward the vent. No matter how plugged his ears were, dropping down now would get me spotted instantly. 'Need to draw his eyes away.' Disrupting prey is Hunting 101. Perfect chance to test my new trait, too. I shifted position first, moving out of his line of sight. Then, I lightly scored my forearm with a claw. Black blood, thick like tar, oozed from the shallow cut. Droplets trailed down my arm and splattered onto the alloy floor. The metal hissed, belching acrid smoke as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it melted. 'Acidic Blood trait.' One of the traits I'd auto-acquired upon evolving to Juvenile stage. It acidifies my blood to damage close-range foes. Like my Reinforced Exoskeleton, it seems defensive at first glance, but its true value lies elsewhere. 'Perfect for infiltration or wrecking armor.' Its acidity rivals chemical weapons—strong enough to melt alloy structures with ease. Great for dissolving enemy gear early on or sneaking into bases and ships. "Hm? Sniff sniff. What's that smell?" The doctor reacted to the toxic fumes from the melting ceiling. He pinched his nose, head swiveling around. "What the—?" His gaze hit the hole in the ceiling. The acid was now eating through a stainless steel cart. The doctor stood and approached the dissolving cart. Fruit ripe for the picking. Better harvest before it rots. I pried open the vent and leaped down. His earbuds and the stench masked my landing. I hit the floor with agile grace, rising slowly. "Acid solution? Where'd it leak from?" Realizing the stinging smell meant poison gas, he quickly covered his mouth with his collar. As he gawked up at the ruined ceiling, I closed in. "Security... guk!" I was right in front of him when he spun around. He gulped, face draining to pale. I stood just over a meter tall. He was bigger, but the size gap meant nothing to him. I overwhelmed him. Chitinous exoskeleton gleaming like the abyss of space. Four massive arms long enough to brush the floor when extended, paired with thick, sturdy legs. A tail that could pierce alloy. Jaws that could pulverize human bone like candy. A vision of cosmic horror crawled from nightmare's depths, right before his eyes. His mouth gaped against his will. I felt his lungs fill with air, vibrating his vocal cords, scream building... But it never came. My meter-long tail rammed into his mouth, stinger piercing throat to brainstem. "Grrglrrgl..." His body shuddered like grass in the wind. Foam bubbled from his lips like a terrified beast. His white coat stained red as life ebbed away. His pupils stilled. Terror-filled eyes lost their spark. Prey down. I withdrew my tail and gently laid the doctor's corpse aside. Thankfully, the door guards ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠noticed nothing. No change in their patrol. 'Unexpected hunt, but a success.' Not a bad outcome. Bumped my meal count to three. I left the doctor and sought Kisaragi. Most cryo-lockers for bodies were empty. Makes sense—not a battleship, just a research vessel. Deaths are rare. Finding her was easy. There she lay on a cold cart: Kisaragi Yujin, severed head and neck still apart. I could guess why. 'Noble Prime perks. They won't let anyone touch their dead.' Chemical processing risks damage, so the docs left her as-is. I reached out, lifting her severed head. Eyes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠closed, she looked peacefully asleep. A strange feeling stirred in me. Even as a space survival pro, my mind's still that of an average college kid prepping for graduation. Yet here I was, killing people. And not feeling a shred of guilt about eating their corpses. 'Guess everyone harbors evil inside.' Did becoming an Aimorph break me to fit this brutal world? Or was this merciless killer my true self all along? 'No point dwelling.' Apologizing after three kills is laughable. And they wouldn't spare me anyway. To survive, I must keep killing. That's the Aimorph way. The way I must adapt to. 'First things first: eat.' Fresh off evolution, I was starving. Contemplating ethics with dead meat in front of me was pointless. I unhinged my elastic jaws wide. Like an anaconda, my maw engulfed her head whole. Sharp teeth shredded scalp; crushing force shattered skull. Inactive brain pulped, spilling matter. '...