Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Scapegoat Strategy
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The ship's conference room.
This was where the ship's top brass—team leaders and above—gathered for meetings whenever something important came up.
Life aboard the ship was usually quiet by nature. So, an "important matter" was pretty much synonymous with a serious problem occurring.
Everyone present knew that much, but none of them had ever imagined a nuke going off.
"...What do you plan to do?"
The question came from the Medical Team Leader, who was responsible for the crew's health. His gaze drifted toward the empty chair.
Any other seat might be forgivable, but that one could never be left vacant.
The owner of the empty chair was the Research Team Leader.
"Hoo, fuck. I don't know."
"..."
Yuseong spat out the curse, but no one in the room called him on it.
Because they were all in the exact same boat.
Yuseong dry-washed his face.
He felt utterly lost on how to handle this.
He wanted to shoot up some drugs and forget it all, but Yuseong was the captain of this ship.
Everyone was waiting on his word, so he had to say something.
"Ahem. Have you determined the cause of death?"
"From a visual inspection, the Research Team Leader was killed by an attack to the throat. It looks like it was sawed through with something small like a saw, but we'll need a detailed examination to confirm that part."
"Detailed examination... You mean an autopsy?"
The Medical Team Leader nodded at Yuseong's question.
They'd uttered the word "autopsy," but both Yuseong and the Medical Team Leader knew full well it was impossible.
Autopsying a Noble Capital member.
No matter the family, Noble Capital folks hated anyone laying a hand on their corpses. They'd treat other people's bodies like toys to play with, yet they treasured their own like sacred relics.
If even a hint of a scalpel mark showed up on the body, the Noble Capital wouldn't let the Medical Team Leader who'd performed it live.
"Security Team Leader. How far along is the search for the culprit?"
"We've reviewed all the onboard surveillance cameras, but nothing unusual turned up. The prime suspect—the guard—is currently under interrogation."
"Does he seem like the culprit?"
"Based on the information we have so far, it's unlikely."
"...Report back the moment you have search results."
The single most important person on the ship was dead, and the killer was still unknown.
Yuseong barely suppressed the impulse to abandon ship and run.
He knew what had happened to the researcher who'd ignored Kisaragi's orders.
The researcher had his brain scooped out while still alive and turned into an experimental subject.
A promising talent reduced overnight to a lone brain bobbing in a tank.
That was the fate for those who didn't obey. It was impossible to imagine the punishment awaiting anyone connected to a Noble Capital's death.
"You all know what went down in the lab."
"..."
"...Mm."
"If you don't want to end up as a brain hooked to electric torture, we need to come up with some kind of plan."
The words "brain" and "electric torture" made everyone in the room flinch.
To avoid that horrific future, they all racked their brains furiously.
"How about we say it was an accident during the experiment?"
"Think before you open your mouth, Navigation Team Leader. There are way too many researchers—how are we supposed to get all their stories straight?"
"Huh. With a mouth like that, no wonder you're still Middle Capital."
"What was that?"
"Fine, then how about food poisoning...?"
"Then we'd be the ones taking the heat! Go die alone if you're so eager! Technical Team Leader!"
"What? You hacks who can't do anything but eat, mouthing off? What Capital are you even from?"
With anxiety crammed into every corner of their minds, there was no way the meeting could proceed properly. The conference room devolved into chaos in seconds.
As collars were grabbed and shouting matches erupted, someone slammed the table hard.
"Quiet!"
It was the Crisis Management Team Leader, who commanded all the onboard soldiers.
"Infighting will only make this messier."
He'd silenced the room in an instant. After a brief pause, he spoke again.
"Captain. We're currently near planet C-08."
"And what of it?"
"C-08 is Space Dogs territory."
Yuseong's eyebrow twitched as he grasped what the Crisis Management Team Leader was getting at.
"You're saying those fuckers are to blame? That's what you want to claim?"
"Exactly. We say we were raided, and in the chaos, we couldn't properly investigate."
Yuseong stroked his chin.
Space Dogs were marauders who roamed the stars pillaging everything in sight—one of Mega Corp's primary enemies.
They were experts at fleet combat, to the point where even battleships led by veteran soldiers took heavy losses against them.
If battleships suffered casualties, a mere research vessel like this one was doomed to massive damage.
And in that kind of chaos, "unforeseen accidents" could easily happen.
If we report a Space Dogs raid, we can sweep the Research Team Leader's death under the rug.
Of course, Yuseong—as the one responsible for protecting the crew—wouldn't escape blame entirely. But considering the dangers Space Dogs posed, it would likely end in a fine.
The Noble Capital's blade of vengeance would point at the Space Dogs, not him.
"Not a bad plan, but there's a problem. Our armaments aren't equipped to take on Space Dogs."
"Don't worry about that. I have some old contacts there—I'll reach out to them."
The mood in the conference room shifted awkwardly at those words.
Among Mega Corp's high-ranking officers, the incorruptible ones were few and far between. Most maintained separate slush funds to bribe their way up the chain.
Even so, no one had pegged the seemingly upright Crisis Management Team Leader for this.
This guy's got ties to pirates? Didn't see that coming.
Yuseong shared the others' distaste for Space Dogs. But they had no better options.
"How much will it take?"
"At least a million credits, minimum."
"..."
Yuseong wanted to unleash a torrent of double curses at the sum—equivalent to half the ship's worth—but he held it back. It wasn't an outrageous ask.
Noble Capital were existences even Space Dogs hesitated to touch. They were taking a real risk, so this price was reasonable.
Goddamn it. Burning precious credits on this shit.
Yuseong knew the logic, but that didn't make the unexpected expense any less bitter. With no alternatives in sight, all he could do was accept.
"Ugh, we'll get it ready."
"Thank you, Captain."
"Just make damn sure you handle it cleanly."
"No issues there."
In the end, they decided to entrust the matter to the Crisis Management Team Leader.
As Yuseong prepared to end the meeting, the Medical Team Leader raised his hand.
"What about the body?"
"Keep it preserved and hand it over when the Space Dogs arrive. Make absolutely sure no one else touches it."
"Understood."
With nothing more to discuss, the meeting adjourned.
Yuseong left the room, desperately hoping they'd never have to gather here again.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Is this what a Juvenile looks like?
Seeing and feeling it for real—something I'd only glimpsed in the game—was a completely different sensation.
I looked down at my feet. No—my hands.
As a Hatchling, all four pairs of legs had been dedicated to scuttling along the ground.
But now? Things were different.
Everything but the rearmost pair had evolved into arm-like forms.
First up: the four combat arms.
One pair jutting from my sides, another from around my shoulders.
They resembled human arm bones bulked up with muscle and connected seamlessly. The hands at the ends mimicked eagle talons—two pairs of fingers, one above and one below. The razor-sharp claws looked like they could shred human flesh without effort.
Combat arms.
Swords and shields built for striking enemies or shielding my body.
Of course, that didn't mean I'd lost my old capabilities. Sucker-like protrusions remained between the fingers, letting me cling to walls or ceilings just fine.
A change truly worthy of the words "enhanced" or "evolved."
Let's give 'em a test.
I flexed the four arms.
The upper pair felt natural, tied to a shoulder-movement sensation I was used to. The lower ones, though? Utterly alien.
If I had to describe it in human terms, it was like the pull in your lats during a pull-up—but with some complex organ attached, handling intricate functions. That was the vibe.
Fresh sensation.
The awkwardness faded fast. It was my body, after all—a few test movements, and I had the hang of it.
Combat arms check out. Next up, these little guys.
The dainty arms near my chest.
Length-wise, they were shorter than my old Hatchling legs.
Unlike the combat hands, these resembled primate paws—complete with an opposable thumb.
For delicate work, obviously.
The presence of thumbs said it all: these handled intricate tasks. Operating computers or terminals, wielding weapons or tools, that sort of thing.
But the changes didn't stop at the arms.
My old lizard-like crawling body had shifted to a bipedal form. Matching the new frame, the shell that once draped my back and belly had evolved into segmented exoskeletal armor.
A primate-style pelvis and digitigrade legs now formed my lower chest and waist.
The legs were far thicker than the arms, packed with dense muscle. What used to be my fourth pair of legs had adapted into this bipedal setup.
My tail had thickened and lengthened like a dinosaur's—for balance, no doubt.
The stinger at its tip had grown with it, now the size of a dagger.
Size increase too.
Standing tall, I barely cleared 1 meter. Factor in the tail, and I was pushing 2 meters total. Massive growth compared to before.
Juvenile stage means shifting strategies.
Until now, avoiding enemy eyes had been key to survival.
No longer. Hunting and surviving were now near-equal priorities.
Survival's more or less secured. Time to plan ahead.
I planned to swipe every gene essence on this ship, but I needed a plan for after that. What came next?
⚔ STATUS ⚔
🏺 Species: Unidentified Hostile Space Creature
📊 Status: Juvenile
🎯 Goal: Survive (Evolution 1 success)
🔹 Traits: Predator Sense (Fusion), Wings, Chitinous Shell, Robust Life Force, Paralysis Stinger, Reinforced Exoskeleton, Acidic Blood
🔸 Type: Undecided
Bringing up the text box revealed new text next to the goal.
'Evolution 1 success' must refer to reaching Juvenile.
Aemorph development had six stages, requiring five evolutions total.
Hatchling, Juvenile, Adolescent, Near-Adult, Adult, and finally... Ascension.
Reaching Ascension counted as clearing Space Survival. In other words, you'd unlocked Aemorph's true ending.
Problem is, getting there is insanely tough.
Only a tiny fraction of players had ever seen a species ending in Space Survival. You could check the in-game clear list, and including me, it was barely twenty people.
I was the only one who'd achieved Ascension with Aemorph.
Ascension, huh.
In the game, when Aemorph ascended, it unveiled the secrets of their race's birth. Where they came from, what they really were—all those hidden lore threads resolved.
High chance reality follows suit.
Succeeding at Ascension might reveal how and why I'd become an Aemorph... and ended up in the world of Space Survival.
Getting there, though—that's the trick.
I checked the new entry in the text box: "Type."
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ No unlockable 'Types' available. ⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ Would you like to view candidates for specializable 'Types'?
Reaching Juvenile unlocked a major fork in the road for an Aemorph's future: choosing a "Type."
Types were basically equivalent to classes in other species. The difference? Most species unlocked class-related abilities upon selection. For Aemorphs, it was the reverse.
Meet the conditions, and the Type unlocked—then it synergized with your related traits, boosting them.
Take Physical Reinforcement traits in abundance? You'd unlock Physical Reinforcement Type, supercharging all your close-combat traits.
With my traits, probably Physical Reinforcement Type?
It was my personal favorite. Especially if it buffed Chitinous Shell—you basically became a living tank. Charging straight in would turn enemies to mincemeat.
Still, gotta see what's on offer. Confirm view.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ 2 specializable Types available. Physical Reinforcement Type (6/10) Psionic Reinforcement Type (1.5/3)
As expected, Physical Reinforcement was nearly fulfilled. Thanks to Reinforced Exoskeleton and Acidic Blood from evolving to Juvenile, I'd secured six physical traits total.
But what's this?
The number next to Psionic Reinforcement Type was weird.
1 is probably Predator Sense. But 0.5? I don't have a half-trait like that.
To extract gene essence, you pretty much had to devour the whole corpse. A 0.5 marking likely meant leftovers or some failure in acquisition.
I recalled what I'd eaten so far.
Spider, cockroach, cat. None with psionic potential.
I ate every scrap too... wait.
It hit me.
Kisaragi Eugene.
She was the only corpse I'd left unfinished.
Her sharp instincts... don't tell me it was psychic power all along.
In the game, rare Mega Corp humans had latent Psychic Power traits—uncommon, but they existed.
She probably didn't even know it was there.
Psychic Power is a must-eat.
Physical Reinforcement was a matter of taste, but Psychic Power? Total game-changer. The gap between having it and not was massive.
Time to find that body.
I used the auxiliary organs on my jaw to probe the air currents.
Factoring in temperature, humidity, and the shriveled state of my nest, I'd been in the cocoon for about a day.
By now, rigor mortis would be setting in. I had to devour her before decomposition advanced—more damage to the corpse meant less chance of full gene essence extraction.
Body first.
I'd rebuild the nest later. Priority was the trait. I slipped out of the cooling chamber.
Bathroom first.
There'd be traces of where Kisaragi went from there. Follow them, and I'd find her.
Heading for the bathroom, I dropped down to a corridor midway. My enlarged body couldn't fit some passages anymore.
Nighttime—nobody around.
My auxiliary organs—now tentacle-length—weren't just longer; they'd grown more precise, though range stayed the same.
No human presence within 50 meters. The only movements were sleepy murmurs from deep sleepers in their quarters.
A fork ahead: my sensors picked up guards stationed at the bathroom entrance. The air vibrations from their yawns reached me. The all-night sentries reeked of exhaustion.
Not now.
Enemies off their game was an advantage, but their numbers were too high.
I'd already mapped the corpse's trail anyway. Banquet could wait—I veered off elsewhere.
I followed the traces down the corridors. No surveillance cams except near critical facilities, so it was doable.
Eventually, I entered a section where the vents widened. I clambered up to the ceiling.
Even as terrain shifted, my senses never lost the corpse's scent.
Mid-crawl, a thick waft of meat scent billowed up from below.
The morgue. Where the dead rested eternally.
It was right beneath my feet.
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