The Queen's Judgment

Ting... THWOOOOM!!

Sparks burst from the monster's head as another bullet struck home with a dull, defeated sound — but the result was nothing like the first shot. It looked as if an invisible tentacle had swatted the round aside; in truth, the monster had anticipated the block, and the specially crafted round detonated the instant it made contact. Yet when the smoke cleared, the monster's body bore not a single wound.

Swoosh.

Narrowing its eyes ever so slightly, the monster turned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠its head to stare intently at some point far beyond the building.

A sniper — and covering fire from the remaining Rank-A operatives. The moment the thought arrived, a single piece of information flashed through my mind. I'd once heard that among the Rank-A ranks there was a transhuman-grade operative capable of sniping from a range of five kilometers. Even a two-and-a-half-kilometer shot would place someone among the world's elite marksmen, but she had fired from well beyond that distance — and aimed precisely for the head. Monster or not, I couldn't imagine it could do anything to an opponent more than five kilometers away.

The desperate voice crackling through the radio jolted me back to my senses. The fear threaded through it was proof that she, too, had just witnessed the same unbelievable one-sided slaughter through her scope.

Thanks to that momentary attack, I had barely regained my composure, and I hoisted Celine onto my back and tried to flee. Helena had come to as well, and I could see she'd wisely chosen retreat over battle, putting distance between herself and the monster.

Tiiiing――!

[...Thud.]

Sparks flew once more near the monster's head as it peered outward, and the crack of the shot rang out. But what unfolded next... was beyond belief.

I could just barely grasp that the tentacle, moving too fast for the eye to follow, had batted the bullet away in a blur of afterimages. The problem was what came after: the ricocheted round seemed to travel backward through time, and I watched a mirage of it flying home along its own trajectory.

When that incomprehensible sight reached the radio along with the sound of something — someone — collapsing, a monstrous thought burst into my head, and I snatched up the receiver.

Dead silence.

The blood drained from my whole body.

...God... this... this can't be real. It had deflected a five-kilometer sniper shot — and then sent it back to kill the sniper herself?

If any physicist had been watching, they'd have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clutched the backs of their heads. I stood dumbstruck before a sight that simply could not exist in reality.

Helena, who had been mid-retreat, belatedly sensed something wrong and froze in her tracks. No — she had to freeze. The monster's attention, stolen for a fleeting instant by the sniper, returned to this place in full, and that viscous terror of death coiled around my entire body once more.

Shlk... flop.

The monster suddenly stretched out a hand to the side, and something like a lump of living flesh dropped from its palm, instantly beginning to take on the shape of a human being. The clay wove together a torso, arms, and legs, and in the blink of an eye it had restored Ji-yoon — the woman who had been hammered against a pillar and reduced to a blackened lump of charcoal — back to her original form.

The monster glanced at Ji-yoon, who stood expressionless, wearing the very same face as its own. That glance alone was enough for her to understand its will, and she began silently descending to the floor below.

I understood she was going down to reach the other Rank-B operatives on the lower floors — but understanding it didn't mean I could do anything about it. We who stood alongside the monster were living beings in name only, closer to things that had already died.

I could have shouted into the radio for her to run, but I doubted it would have made any difference.

"...You... who — who the hell are you?"

Helena, who had maintained her composure from the very first second, backed away and pointed at the monster with a trembling finger, her voice strangled with shock.

"Th-that just now... th-that was a high-r-rank Lurk, wasn't it? How can a Lurk create another Lurk? That's... that's... it's impossible!? It shouldn't be possible! It goes against everything—!"

Screaming in terror, Helena seemed to remember something, and she stared at the monster with a face gone white as ash.

"Don't tell me... the Q-Queen...?"

Something had struck a nerve. The monster's flat, indifferent eyes lifted slightly.

"I dislike that title. I am not some 'Queen.'"

A denial that was, at the same time, a confirmation — and with it, the shape of the hell unfolding before me grew a little more comprehensible.

Before long, screams erupted from the radio as whatever was happening below poured through the speaker, and I switched it off.

Grrk.

I squeezed the radio so hard it nearly crumbled in my grip — but from the moment I'd first come face to face with the monster, there had never been anything I could do.

...Ah, God. Why did You create such a monster, only to make it our trial...

"...Ugh... uhaa, uAAAAAH...! UAAAAAAAAAAAH——————!!!"

Finally, Helena's fear broke past her control. She shrieked and flailed her gloved hands out to both sides in desperation. From her fingertips, a dense net of wires spread out and surged toward the monster. Those threads of special composition — fine enough to slice through steel like paper, nearly invisible yet carrying real mass — were a weapon only Helena could wield.

Flick.

Again the tentacle lashed out faster than the eye could track, and the wires she had poured her skill into snapped limply, scattering across the floor. Hope was swapped in a single breath for a despair every bit as deep as that hope had been, and I felt an overwhelming terror anew at the realization that the monster still had only one tentacle extended.

The number of tentacles a parasite deploys against humans reveals exactly how much of its full strength it considers necessary. And the monster had produced exactly one — a single tentacle to face four Rank-A operatives.

Thock.

"Kgh!? ...Ah."

Just as Helena waved her hands in a dancer's flourish to renew her assault, a tentacle had planted itself in her forehead before anyone noticed. Anyone who had ever fought parasites knew precisely what that meant, and terror flooded her face in an instant.

Her hand, swinging up to sever the embedded tentacle, stopped mid-motion. I watched it happen, and I groaned.

Taken. Control of her body — stolen.

It was one of the most feared forms of death at a parasite's hands.

"K-kgh... kkhuuugh!?"

Helena threw every ounce of dying strength into moving her body, but her brain had already fallen under the monster's dominion.

"You're... quite pretty."

The monster closed the distance to the frozen, statue-still Helena and appraised her openly, sweeping its gaze from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Then its eyes slid sideways, glancing casually toward where I stood — and the moment our eyes met, my body locked up on its own.

Ssss...

Pik.

"Ugh!?"

After an interval I couldn't perceive, my breath suddenly choked off — and I saw that a tentacle had embedded itself in my forehead and Celine's as well. It happened too fast to resist, and along with a spreading sensation creeping from the crown of my head down to my toes, control of my body was gone.

"Ngh... ugh!?"

"Mmmh..."

Celine lost consciousness and began shambling toward the monster like a zombie, and I, too, found my feet carrying me against my will until I stood before it.

Standing at rigid attention before a predator, utterly defenseless, I despaired as I foresaw a feast of terror far worse than death.

Dying was fine. None of us who fought parasites had ever done so without accepting that death might come. But being dominated by them — having your body stolen — was something else entirely.

A thing wearing my face, walking the earth and killing people while it mimicked me. The disgrace of having your appearance, your past, every trace of the life you'd lived dragged through the mud without your consent, and the time spent being toyed with like a puppet with everything stripped away — that pain exceeded death itself.

I still remembered, vividly, the last words of a comrade who had been seized by a parasite long ago and turned against our own unit.

Twisted beyond recognition, that comrade had cursed us to his very last breath, never once understanding why he was the one dying. In that moment, I had learned, with painful clarity, just how thoroughly the fragile organs of a human body can be broken when someone else maliciously takes the controls.

"Their appearances... both acceptable. Faces he would like." The monster swept its gaze over Celine and me, gave a faint nod of satisfaction at something, and turned its eyes away. "He favors Western women in his pornography, so letting him have a taste of that side seems no bad thing. Then, as for the bodies..."

"...Ah... wh-what are you..."

"Uuugh..."

"Mmm..."

Then Helena, Celine, and I — still moving against our own wills — began peeling off our clothing, one layer at a time. Stripped bare before shame could even register, we half-bent our knees and, as if putting on a show for the monster, spread the outer lips of our vulvas with our fingers, baring our most intimate places without a shred of concealment.

At us, the monster looked on meticulously — kneading our breasts, inserting a finger into our inner depths — the way an appraiser inspects merchandise being readied for presentation to a buyer.

"These two are not virgins, and you are. Come to think of it, most men are said to prefer virgins."

"Pl-please... spare...!"

When the monster posed the question to me quietly, as though seeking agreement, I spat the words out in a trembling, tear-soaked voice. No — begged would have been the more accurate word.

"Your bodies will do fine. The non-virgins have excellent inner walls — well suited to receiving a man. I won't kill you, if that is your fear. Your bodies will be put to use pleasing him. Instruments to assist a man's masturbation... onaholes? Yes. When I am not present, you will become onaholes to service Hyun-ok's needs. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He would surely be happier with a variety of toys to choose from, wouldn't he? Ah — but you will not be allowed to carry his seed. That is mine alone, for as long as I live."

The monster — imagining something — wore, for the very first time, a faint, contented smile as it rambled on in its utterly insane monologue.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No, no...!

The face of that comrade rose in my mind again — the one who had died believing a parasite's twisted personality and memories were his own righteous convictions — and a maddening wave of revulsion and terror crashed over me. Panic seized me, nausea surging up my throat, but even that was denied me by a body that now belonged to the monster.

"When you open your eyes again, you will live a faithful life in his service. Until the day you die."

NO————!! No, please, NO————!!

I shook my head violently inside, tears scattering. I screamed a soundless despair from the deepest reaches of my soul — but nothing burst forth from the body that was no longer mine.

And so, in a form of death worse than death itself, my conscious self vanished from the face of the Earth — forever.