Chapter 142
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 142
Chapter Title: 14th Floor - Lv. 459 The Forgotten Ones (3)
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Cosmic expansion couldn't possibly be as easy as picking your nose.
Only in this era I'm living through has technology reached the point of artificially creating planets, and even then, they're being retrofitted into massive fortresses.
But all of that is built on countless trials, errors, and sacrifices.
In future stages, if you get hit with a wide map, the stairs might lead to an entirely different star system.
As you wander around like that, you see all sorts of sights—including clusters of space debris like this, where cosmic trash has banded together like an asteroid belt.
This place in particular looks like one where a ton of junk has piled up over a long time.
Beyond the open space, I could see vast darkness and the wreckage of countless ships.
But their shapes were all over the place. Some from different eras, different nations, and others in such bizarre forms they were unrecognizable.
This was basically a ship graveyard, and it gave off an eerie vibe.
Still, couldn't the Federation just send a single small transport ship as support for something like this?
Usually, surviving in layers like this is a pain in the ass in itself, but the actual dangers aren't that numerous.
When facing the forces of nature, building friendly relations with NPCs falls under an Exile's skills—it's not factored into difficulty adjustments.
I gathered information meticulously while moving quickly.
The kid had lured them all the way to the edge.
No wonder there were hardly any enemies when my party members were all heading to the air pocket—it turns out they'd been drawn over there.
From another angle, that's a merit, so I should praise her plenty.
There weren't many zombies on the way either. Not good news.
How many had she pulled?
The God of Nature analyzed the situation coolly.
"Looks like she unleashed quite the spell. No traces left, but to pull that much wide-area aggro from space undead, she must've blasted them with elemental magic."
"If it was a brilliant burst of multicolored mana, it'd stand out even if you didn't want it to in this drab space."
Isn't this more dangerous than I thought?
The kid only knows attack magic at a very basic level.
Respecting her wishes, I'd been teaching her theory and support spells first.
She's still young, and her mind's unstable, so I'd planned to take it slow.
"Calling you 'Daddy' so cutely—turns out she really is like a daughter after all?"
"Maybe."
Anyone unaffected by attitude or appearance isn't human anymore. They'd have personality issues.
Anyway, the future version of the kid didn't pull off any amazing magic; she just wielded power appropriate to the moment.
Considering her level, she'd naturally level up along the way.
Did I think too lightly of it? Or was I just reluctant to drag her into battle?
Either way, letting this happen was definitely my mistake.
"Should've made one more vampire."
"That's not on you. Two should be plenty. The Labyrinth's at fault for not warning us ahead."
There wasn't really anyone suitable anyway. I couldn't turn everyone into vampire lords.
And soon enough, a mass of undead appeared before my eyes.
I've come to the right place.
The kid had no complaints about being called "kid."
She knew it was more of a nickname than a real name.
But since she'd never had a proper name before, she decided to be content with it.
It was a small joy.
Right now, she was crouched down, knees drawn up tight.
Inside a smooth metal locker that showed no signs of age or wear.
The goddess knew the habits of space undead well.
A bit of elemental magic from afar drew them over.
It would've been nice to slip behind them, but by the time she realized, she was backed into a corner.
This shipwreck—probably a battleship—had narrow corridors.
Sound wasn't an issue in the vacuum, but leaking mana was.
And their vision too.
The undead, who had become darkness itself, seemed to pierce the shadows effortlessly.
Finding what looked like a changing room and hiding there was a good call.
At least there were no corpses of folks who'd died mid-shower.
She wriggled a little.
Her arm bumped the locker's edge, but no sound came out. Still, she spotted creepy black blobs patrolling nearby, sending chills down her spine.
Bodies wrapped in even deeper darkness amid the thick gloom.
She could guess how she looked to their eyes.
Like a blinding light.
One lesson from her new dad that stuck deep: all undead obsess over the living because they envy it.
They yearn for what they've lost and crave life back.
Unless an Exile pulls some miracle card, there's no way.
So they just pine away hopelessly.
Did she herself envy life? Before death or after, it was all hardship—no real good times.
But to these instinct-driven zombies, she'd shine like the brightest living thing.
If I let go of everything, would I end up like that?
Would I start craving life again?
As a vampire with reason and wisdom intact, she couldn't comprehend it.
Excuses, really. Race had nothing to do with it. It was just hard to grasp from her short, faded, colorless life.
She hadn't chosen to become a vampire; all she'd gotten was pity. How was her pathetic little existence different from those zombies?
She just didn't groan and shuffle around.
Not that sound mattered in this cold, endless space void anyway.
"Your father's coming. You're hiding so calmly, I can't even add much. Well done."
The God of Chaos was a deity all vampires revered.
Acting on that ingrained knowledge, the kid responded with maximum respect to the Goddess of Chaos.
"Thank you."
And that was it.
The goddess seemed flustered.
"Too calm's a problem too. Anyway, talk about something else. How've you been lately?"
She sounded like the family elder. Come to think of it, she kind of was—like the party's patron.
"Better than before, I think. Thank you for caring."
"Ha, sweet-talking ain't my style. That's his thing. And he doesn't even realize."
"...?"
While the kid puzzled over it, the goddess grumbled.
"I'm no good at beating around the bush, so straight talk: you need to value yourself higher. And think less. Don't worry about this or that—live more recklessly."
"I'm already dead, so reckless living's off the table."
"Don't dodge. To Exiles, undead aren't really 'dead.' And it's about time you realized: living or dead isn't decided by a beating heart."
The kid felt interest spark at the goddess's words.
In her twenty-odd years, no one had ever said anything like this to her.
New Dad was kind but cautious, and their talks were mostly info dumps.
And the girl who told her to call her "Mom"...? She was nice, but hard to pin down. Seemed to live without much thought.
Still nice, though. Warm hugs every day, brushing her hair, checking if she was hungry.
She vaguely recalled hearing mothers felt closer than fathers.
No memories of it. The kid was an orphan.
Couldn't even picture her birth parents.
And piecing together later knowledge... was the goddess her grandma?
The kid listened quietly to the divine words. Nothing else to do anyway.
Just hope the walking corpses wouldn't find her.
"You just thought something suspicious. Anyway. Kids have the right to act like kids. When they're young, I mean."
"I'm actually older than Mom."
"Years passed don't guarantee maturity. How much do you really know? Humans are human because of relationships with others. You've locked yourself away and given up long ago—you're a kid. A real kid."
Is that so?
She pondered silently without replying. The goddess didn't pry into her thoughts and continued.
"Magical talent's basically being smart. I've seen plenty get too clever and box themselves in. Better a reckless fool who charges ahead. Right now, you're no different from those corpses."
"That sounds right."
"Lord help me."
The kid accepted it readily and focused on the rest.
Smart? Me?
She had no clue. Her magical talent had only just been acknowledged.
No self-awareness. Never thought about excelling at anything. Life had just drifted by since birth.
She'd always been like a sack of barley left in the corner—existing quietly was her best bet.
Trying anything usually led to disaster. The clanmate who'd turned her into a vampire right before she died had perished that way too.
The chill in the air afterward was obvious even to a fool.
If she'd done nothing, he might still be alive.
That winter had hit the clan hard. Just not being abandoned was a blessing.
So being a quiet, easy-to-haul piece of baggage was the right call.
Even recent praise went over her head. Just relief at not being ditched.
Having any survival instinct felt foreign sometimes.
Even in this party of strange Exiles, she was just baggage along for the ride. Never actually done anything.
After perfect self-objectification, the kid defined herself as new Dad's accessory.
Not unfamiliar. Lowly vampires in the clan were the clan master's accessories.
That's how she'd been taught.
Was that the usefulness new Dad expected from her?
The goddess must've read that thought.
"That's not what he wants."
"Really?"
Then what should she do?
Total unknown territory.
Where else could she be useful?
Confusion filled her small head.
The goddess chuckled lowly and fell silent.
Or rather, couldn't speak.
One zombie finally crawled into the changing room.
The kid held her breath—pointless, no sound anyway, but old habit. She didn't even need to breathe.
The goddess sighed.
"If it gets closer, other mana types'll show in its eyes. Gotta mask it with something else. Hate to order this..."
From the brief explanation, the kid knew exactly what to do.
Magic problems? She nailed them, as always.
Darkness elements from all around flowed into her body.
The black mana of space seeped easily into her undead vampire flesh.
Felt foreign and cold inside.
She could clearly see the darkness within her.
A familiar chill made her consciousness blur slightly.
"Don't think. Just stay still. Darkness eats the mind."
"Y-Yes..."
"Thoughts feed all darkness. If you must, recall good memories."
The nearby undead couldn't spot her.
She'd fully blended into the dark.
What were her good memories?
Surprisingly, all recent—last few days.
Short time, but they filled her heart.
A corner of her chilly mind warmed a bit.
"Mm..."
A mental groan the goddess could hear.
The kid was still confused.
The God of Nature brought bad news.
"Your precious kid was about to get spotted, so she absorbed surrounding mana. Chaos is yelling to hurry up."
"Oh man, pulled way too much aggro."
Why's this ship so pristine in its ruin? Corpses look way too intact.
Not many ships that scream "battle."
This wreck too.
Something's off. Feels like total annihilation without resistance.
And the kid's mental state feels ominous.
Hm, darkness everywhere. Can't avoid the influence. That's why space sucks.
Trauma-triggering elements all around—terrible for mental health.
"Hyah!"
"Gotta make your kiai loud enough for me to hear?"
The God of Nature openly disliked it.
But the mood was tanking. Humans are simple—yell and feel better.
"Our kid's got tons of bad memories too, huh? Gotta keep her from these elements."
"Says the guy who used a living darkness trap last time."
"That living darkness? No choice with Sharkma. Was gonna die. Consulted after, same attitude, so I figured it was talent."
"Now I see why Chaos worries about you. Loose screw somewhere. No kid-rearing experience."
"Huh? Well, yeah, probably."
The God of Nature seemed frustrated.
I pondered briefly, then decided not to care. Focused on smashing zombies.
Martial artist's directional blasts were perfect for ejecting them into space or slamming them into walls.
Path clearing fast.
Following the goddess's moans, the Federation pinpointed the Great Warrior's location and prepped a fleet dispatch.
Of course, her scolding shrank the fleet drastically.
But that wasn't the point.
First, locate him in vast space.
Space debris clusters aren't rare.
Cosmic history's endless war and armistice cycles—too many ship graveyards to specify.
Then, the crucial clue arrived.
"Not a battlefield?!"
"Wreckage preservation is suspiciously pristine."
The Federation's top scholars finally nailed the Great Warrior's summons spot.
But warp-impossible.
"Isn't that the Dark Spirit King's domain?!"
A massive manifested darkness. A pre-space era spirit king? Dubious even if spirit—cosmic monster territory.
The space-reborn demon realm that swallowed most ships.
Report shot to the Secretary-General.
He slammed his desk.
Yelled at military brass.
"Warp to nearest point, then full speed! Before the Great Warrior's swallowed by darkness!"
"Days away!"
"Go! Run engines till fusion cores blow!"
"What about trying warp anyway?"
Secretary-General Gorbachev was stunned by the pivot.
"Good! No one here shies from martyrdom!"
It was a spirit realm in space.
Countless ships would vanish into rifts, but no issue.
One reaching was enough.
Ignoring allies' screams, part of the Federation fleet on the Imperial front turned bow.
Secretary-General prayed for permission; the goddess grudgingly approved the warp.