Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: An Unfamiliar Sky
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An unfamiliar sky.
The first thing that came to mind was the fact that I'd been attacked by some unknown assailants and lost consciousness.
If I'd been taken to a hospital, I should've been staring at a pristine white ceiling, but what I saw instead was a vast expanse of sky.
And it wasn't your average sky, either. What if the Korean Peninsula had no seasonal winds to block the yellow dust? Would it look something like this?
Judging by the insane sandstorm raging across it, the locals here must wear gas masks instead of mere surgical ones.
As those thoughts crossed my mind, I tried to sit up—and that's when I "felt" my own body.
What the hell is this thing?
No arms, no legs—just a single, wriggling cocoon.
A slime? Well, at least it's kinda cute, all things considered. I had no idea how I could even see myself, but with those unidentified veins pulsing across the surface, it looked like nothing less than some cosmic horror from outer space.
Strangely enough, I felt no shock or dismay at the fact that my healthy human body had turned into this.
Has my brain turned into a space monster too, now that my body's gone full eldritch?
The wriggling obeyed my will, feeling both grotesque and intimately familiar.
Separate from my reaction to the physical changes, my mind was a whirlwind of confusion—when suddenly, memories from the original owner of this cocoon body began to surface.
The star system I now inhabited. The Lushaka Planet in the Tyrant Star System—a monstrous race that had prospered there, ventured into space, and rapidly expanded its reach.
A predatory species that devoured other lifeforms, absorbed their traits, and spawned new horrors. Endless hunger, no capacity for communication—an insatiable swarm.
Zerg, Tyranids, Arachnids. It was obviously the race inspired by those motifs, straight out of the game I'd been playing right up until a moment ago. The one that waged war against the entire universe.
And I had possessed the body of its supreme overlord, the one that commanded the entire swarm.
Overwhelming aggression, baring its fangs at the galaxy with no possibility of diplomacy. That was the concept I'd been playing with...
But this needed serious rethinking. Why should I fight the entire galaxy? Back on Earth, humans didn't go around headbutting everyone just because diplomacy was a pain. Plenty of races in stories did the same.
This wasn't a game anymore, and I sure as hell wasn't staking my life on endless brawls with every other species out there. Luck or not, now that I was in charge, that future wasn't happening.
Maybe my human memories were still too fresh, making me lean toward humanity-friendly ideas, but I could sort that out later.
But contrary to my hopes, this race's situation didn't look all that smooth.
True to form as a species that warred against the uncommunicative universe, I'd already devoured several other races during my playthrough...
If monsters that had gobbled up their own kin suddenly showed up saying,
"Let's all live in peace from now on~ Hee hee."
Would anyone respond with,
"Sure thing, let's do that. Ho ho ho."?
Making peace with a wartime enemy is one thing. Making peace with the race that ate yours? Totally different story.
Why did the universe dump me into this monster body and make me worry about all this crap?
In the end, my task was clear. Ensure the survival of my race in this galaxy—one with an objectively repulsive appearance and an overwhelming record of conquests.
That would be my goal. I'd act accordingly.
I am a hive mind. Every creature under my command is ultimately "me," and by allocating my consciousness, I can use them as extensions of my own body.
In other words, if I so chose, I could live without ever conversing with anyone. No hindrance at all.
But could a non-communicative species really negotiate diplomacy with others? At the very least, I shouldn't forget how to talk.
With that in mind, I created one.
"Jarvis, report."
"Yes, my Queen."
This race, modeled after one with exceptional bioengineering—devouring organisms and evolving via their genes—could craft new lifeforms from the genetic stock it had amassed.
The method was instinctive: Knead something like genetic data inside my cocoon body, and it gradually molded into the shape I desired.
No brilliant ideas sprang to mind, so I made it roughly human-like.
It seemed instinctively compelled to address me as Queen. Fair enough—for a hive species like ants or bees, the ruler was always the queen. Hmm.
"The Deneb International Union claims they've sent a warning."
Huh?
"That's what it says, my Queen. Shall I assemble the fleet?"
"Calm down, Jarvis."
It had come, just as expected. And so soon.
Before my possession, this hive had no doubt rampaged aggressively, devouring everything in reach.
Any species feeling threatened—especially those sharing a border—would naturally band together. Predictable.
The problem? I was new to this body, clueless about the galaxy or even my own race, and had no instinct for handling sudden crises like this.
But my handcrafted, competent secretary surely had good advice?
"The Deneb Star System is right on our border, my Queen. Just give the order, and I'll dispatch legions at once. Devour their capital in a flash, and victory is ours."
"Ah, I see."
True to a secretary who led with fleet assembly, he suggested the most belligerent course.
He might even be right. Blitz the Deneb Star System, force surrender, devour countless organics, and grow stronger again.
If this were a game, I'd have done exactly that. Snowball hard from the start. Hell, I probably wouldn't have even read their warning—just skimmed it, hit confirm, and closed the window.
Then drag fleets to the border and send them off.
But this was stark reality. Shred the Deneb Federation? Fine. Then what? Their allies react.
Devour those too? Then what? And after that? And after that?
Endless war until I slip up and die. The galaxy wouldn't ignore a hive that had preyed on countless races.
Either I wipe out the whole galaxy, or I run myself ragged until death. No breaks.
I don't wanna live like that.
I want to be lazy, decadent, hedonistic.
Park my immobile main body on this dusty hellhole of a planet, craft a clone like a Hirak avatar, and tour the galaxy.
In the space age, how much entertainment must there be? In the game, zoomed out from a god's view, I ignored the cultural lives of those trillions. No interest.
Now I'm one of them? Ruling an entire race means I can do anything I want.
And destroy all that culture? Tsk. Short-sighted.
Besides, thinking it over, their warning called us "your side." They don't know I'm a hive mind.
A whole species as one organism? Instant revulsion. The game even had diplomacy penalties for it. Devouring others tanked relations to zero—no talks possible.
Yet they send a polite warning?
They don't know I'm a hive mind, or that we devour others. Keep quiet, and no one knows.
Play smart from here, blend in like a normal race.
Live without mortal threats, doing whatever I please. A shot at true monster hedonism.
"Jarvis! Prepare a delegation."
"Yes, my Queen."
To live that happy life, I need a strong start.
Hope I get along with the Deneb folks.