The Growable Space Battleship

Yoo Byungtae stood on the rooftop of the shelter's main hall, glaring down at the world below and clicking his tongue.

"Kim Youngsik."

"Kim Youngsik."

"Kim Youngsik…."

His eyes were clouded with conflict. That utterly ordinary three-syllable name had set every stray thought in his head boiling.

"Don't waver."

Above all, unease gnawed at him.

Was it really right to send him off like that? Should I have kept him? Or….

It was true that he had worked hard to drive Kim Youngsik into exile. He had dropped hints, dropped pressure, used the colleagues around him to freeze the man out, all with a subtlety he prided himself on.

Because Youngsik had been an insufferable little upstart — forever trying to control him, forever trying to teach him, meddling in everything he did.

As if his opinion were the only right answer in the world.

Sure, in the early days of the outbreak, the man's composure and decisiveness had helped everyone adapt quickly. But Byungtae and the others were every bit as capable — surely they would have survived regardless. In other words, even without that man, building and running the shelter would have gone exactly as smoothly as it had.

What really galled him was the sight of a useless nobody who had never awakened a single ability strutting around on top of everyone's heads as if he belonged there.

The gap between a shelter ability user who could raise buildings and defense towers and produce food, and a man with no power at all, was as vast as the distance between a medieval king and a lowborn serf.

And that was only right. In the apocalypse, wasn't it only natural that your status should be determined by your ability?

Grrk—

Byungtae ground his teeth.

There was, in fact, one other incident that had bothered him more than all the rest combined.

Unforgivable….

That worthless piece of trash had driven a female tenant to the very brink of suicide before having her expelled. And that woman was someone Byungtae had fallen for.

She and Byungtae had gotten along wonderfully. There was a spark between them — they had been at that delicate stage of soothing each other's wounds and confirming what was growing in their hearts. And that man had simply bullied her, slandered her, hounded her until she fled the shelter entirely.

Byungtae could never forget that day.

It was bad enough that the man stuck his nose into every corner of shelter management, making Byungtae look unfit as leader at every turn.

Just watch. You were so high and mighty, so full of yourself — and now your precious girlfriend has fallen for me instead. Can't even think straight, can she?

Byungtae's mouth curled upward as Baek Seulgi's figure drifted through his mind.

On reflection, it would put my mind at ease to deal with him for good.

His gaze hardened into ice as he summoned someone.

Meanwhile, Kim Youngsik could only stand there, dumbfounded.

Vuuuum—

One hundred and twenty precious Blood Stones — the rare drops that sometimes appeared when you took down an evolved zombie or smashed a horde of ordinary ones — had been reduced to a single meal for Hyperion.

"Uh… huh?"

Wait. Those are the ones Seunga saved up for me, scrimp and save, telling me to keep them for my own use…?

"Excuse me? Nothing about me has changed, though…?"

"…."

So because Hyperion's power reserves went up, that somehow counts as me getting stronger?

"Um…."

While Youngsik struggled to find any words at all, Hyperion — visible to his eyes alone — was undergoing a transformation of its own.

Clack— whirr— clack-clack—

"Dimensional… what?"

Clack— hisss— clack—

Hyperion had always been a little headstrong, but now the craft that had looked like nothing more than a UFO was remaking itself into something else entirely, and Youngsik found himself utterly speechless.

He was simply overwhelmed. The streamlined hull, like something out of a far-future science fiction film; the metallic sheen shot through with a soft blue glow. Magnificence poured from every line of its design.

Even Youngsik, a man with no eye for such things whatsoever, could feel something stirring deep in his chest — a strange, fluttering sense of romance.

How did something so noble end up in a place as shabby as this? The thought came unbidden, and with it, Youngsik felt achingly small beside the machine. Something about that eerie, otherworldly design awakened in him, without his even willing it, the instincts of a butler.

"Ohhh…."

Youngsik's jaw dropped.

Upgrades?

With trembling fingers, he studied the hologram floating before his eyes. Offense meant exactly what it said — mounting and upgrading all manner of weapons. Defense covered defensive systems and hull reinforcement.

Utility allowed the installation of various special functions beyond attack and defense, while Living could expand everything from drinking water and food production to all sorts of convenience facilities.

And under Other sat things like passenger capacity, combat simulator training, and… adult-oriented facilities — entries that made him wonder, do you really need that?

Youngsik's head spun. Among the weapons were anti-particle cannons, gravity shells, anti-gravity rounds — arms he'd never even imagined. Not that he could select any of them; the power reserves were too low and the evolution stage too primitive.

But one thing was crystal clear.

This thing is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a straight-up upgrade over the shelter, isn't it?

Shelters could certainly upgrade their defense towers and living amenities, but there were countless things Hyperion could do that no shelter could manage no matter how hard it strained — and nothing a shelter had came close to this level of sophistication, this sheer height of technology.

Heck, the final evolution of a shelter's defense tower was a turret. Its firepower probably topped out around that of a modern heavy machine gun.

"Good grief."

Small wonder the man was reeling.

Youngsik swallowed hard and turned the question over: which trait should he pick?

I came out here alone, away from the shelter. Securing my safety comes first.

Zombies didn't distinguish between day and night. Alone, he couldn't even keep a night watch — so a safe place to stay was priority number one.

He wavered between reinforced walls under Defense and an early-warning system under Utility, then made his choice.

Yeah. This is the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right call.

Simply being warned when an enemy drew near would reliably raise his odds of survival. Youngsik reached out and touched the early-warning system option on the hologram.

Half anticipation, half delight, Youngsik nodded vigorously.

"Yes!"

"Huh?"

"What? N-no! The Utility warning sys—"

"Er?"

"S-sel…."

Zeeeeng— clack— whirr— clack—

Then why on earth did you even ask?!

Beneath Hyperion's hull, roughly the size of a midsize sedan, installation of an intricate weapon resembling a Gatling gun had begun.

Zeeeeng— clack— clack— hisss—

The hull split apart into interlocking cubes and reassembled itself into new forms — a spectacle no amount of money could ever have bought.

Now a sleek sci-fi machine with both wings swept out at forty-five degrees, Hyperion carried a menacing Gatling-style cannon slung beneath its hull — one look at it was enough to raise the hairs on your neck.

"Oh… but can I actually ride in you?"

Hyperion said nothing.

Youngsik wept inwardly. It seemed he would simply have to be faithful to his duties as a butler.

"Still, a spaceship you can't ride… that seems a little unfair, doesn't it?"

Had Hyperion reacted to the meek man's remark?

Thunk— clunk.

With a mechanical sound that somehow conveyed reluctant displeasure, the hatch mechanism on the underside split open on both sides, revealing a space where he could sit. The seat, shaped rather like a massage chair, could apparently be angled to sit up or to lie flat.

A smile tugged at the corners of Youngsik's mouth.

"Th-that's more like it!"

It was the peculiar feeling of locking eyes with a stray cat and having it not run away — somehow, that alone felt like a gift.

True, Hyperion hadn't lowered its altitude to let him board easily, but by clambering over the terrain, Youngsik managed to haul himself aboard at last.

"Hnngh!"

The moment he was in, the hatch mechanism engaged and sealed shut. And from then on, it was like glimpsing an entirely new world.

"Whoa."

He'd expected a sealed cabin to feel cramped and stifling — instead, screens unfolded in every direction, before and behind and to either side, letting him survey his surroundings with a glance.

And then there was the seat. The massage-chair-like cockpit seat wrapped snugly around his whole body, so comfortable it was as if he were cradled in a cloud.

Comfortable enough that a single wandering thought would send drowsiness washing over him in gentle waves!

"Hooo…."

Ever since boarding, the exclamations of wonder simply hadn't stopped.

Then Hyperion's androgynous mechanical voice sounded at his ear.

"Huh?"

Weeeeeeng—

Gaps split open across the exterior armor visible on the screens, and threads of blue light seeped out as the hull began to climb.