Became an Evolving Space Monster

‘Is it a vision impairment?’

Hanging onto the silo, I checked my physical state.

The Color Bomb not only inflicted severe damage but also caused random negative effects, which, more than the direct harm, posed a real nuisance. These effects could disrupt senses, weaken body parts like muscles, or scatter focus.

Having taken a hit to the abdomen from that rainbow-colored energy blast, my vision was heavily impaired—to the point where everything around me appeared blurred.

‘If it weren’t for the auxiliary organ, this would be quite troublesome.’

The Amorph’s main sensory organ is the auxiliary organ hanging below its chin. Even without sight, I can clearly sense everything happening inside this silo.

Clinging to the wall, I focused on her movements through my auxiliary organ.

Cynthia was currently focused on healing her wounds. The scent of her blood and the cold sweat from her pain were gradually diminishing.

Meanwhile, I organized the new, crucial information I’d gathered.

First, I tried hitting her shield directly to see if it only blocked projectiles. I even attempted to devour the barrier using the ‘Hand of the Predatory Leech.’

As one might expect, that failed miserably, costing me the fingers and inner palm of one combat arm.

Next, I attempted a joint attack with Number 26.

The shield she had set up was dome-shaped, covering the floor. So, attacking from below should be effective as well.

I poured acidic breath onto the shield. Cynthia likely assumed I was attempting to weaken her barrier, but in reality, I was trying to melt the floor.

Number 26 descended to the lower floor, camouflaging itself in the toxic fumes released from the melting floor. From there, it enlarged itself and struck the floor below her barrier with its tendrils.

Meanwhile, I wasn’t idle either. I timed my ‘Messenger of Mass Confusion’ to coincide with its attack, infecting one of the guards with madness.

Unfortunately, Cynthia countered by shifting her barrier from a dome to a sphere, blocking out the effect of the Messenger. Because of this, the guard failed to kill her.

‘Still, I gained important information.’

Her barrier doesn’t block attacks originating from inside. She sustained injuries from the shots fired by the guard.

There are advanced types of deployable defense techniques that some boss-tier creatures use, which render the protected area immune to internal attacks. Her technique, however, isn’t of that type.

‘Although, provoking an attack from the inside again won’t be easy.’

Cynthia, having been attacked from within, quickly expelled the guard outside, neutralizing the threat. As expected from a Ranker, she accurately assessed that he was infected and acted swiftly.

Had the guard died within her barrier, there might have been a chance for the madness bomb to spread further—a small missed opportunity.

She’d been caught off-guard once, so now she would be on high alert. Being a Ranker herself, she won’t fall for the same trick twice unless her mind is truly shaken.

‘Or maybe… I can turn this to my advantage?’

It’s been quite a while since the battle began. By now, she likely knows I have no direct means of penetrating her barrier, so it would make sense if I appeared to be trying something different.

The key weakness of her shield is its vulnerability to attacks originating from within—something both she and I are aware of. This weakness should logically be the focus of my strategy.

‘…At least, that’s what she’ll think.’

While she’s preoccupied with that assumption, I’ll target something else entirely.

My auxiliary organ twitched as I gauged Cynthia’s reaction.

I sensed her breath escaping outside her shield. Thanks to her healing abilities, the pain had subsided, and her heavy breathing was calming down.

‘Good.’

With the strategy taking shape, I finally checked the timing—critical for this plan—and sent a pulse down to Number 26, who was waiting below.

[ZZ ZZZ (Are you holding up okay?)]

｢Yes! All good!｣

[ZZZZ ZZ ZZZZ (Sorry, but I need a favor)]

｢What? What?｣

[ZZZZZZ ZZ ZZZ ZZZ (Go to Adhai and pass on a message for me)]

I relayed the essential instructions to Number 26. Though it seemed reluctant to leave, it ultimately agreed.

｢Big One, don’t get hurt more!｣

[ZZZZZ (Don’t worry)]

Reassuring it, I fired a psychic breath using one of my tendrils. My target wasn’t her shield itself, but the surrounding space.

“Tsk!”

Cynthia clicked her tongue, realizing I intended to shatter the ground around her. A psychic scythe, under her control, materialized in the air and swung down at me.

Perhaps due to my impaired vision, my other senses were heightened. Sensing a psychic force gathering in the air, I spread my wing-arms and took flight. Dodging the Reaper's Hand without difficulty, I aimed for the opposite wall to hang onto.

As I flew through the center of the silo, my body suddenly grew heavy. I felt a concentrated psychic force coming from Cynthia’s left hand below.

Using her ‘Bind’ ability, she jerked her left arm back, slamming me downward. I crashed into the ground. It didn’t hurt much, but it was definitely irritating.

The bio-cannons on my back fired, loaded with my frustration. Two explosive spores arced over the shield and detonated, causing a faint tremor to reverberate through the floor. Undeterred, Cynthia reached out toward me, casting an array of psychic techniques designed to hinder me.

It felt like I was stuck in quicksand, my movements sluggish. With me restrained, she unleashed a barrage of Color Bombs.

In response, I activated the ‘Complex Prism.’

Smoky tendrils emerged from my body, quickly merging in the air. The Complex Prism, large enough to shield both me and the walls behind, intercepted Cynthia’s Color Bombs.

“!”

Reflected Color Bombs scattered wildly like popcorn, leaving dents across the floor around her and along the silo walls. Cynthia’s heartbeat quickened as she observed the spectacle.

She was likely wondering just how many hidden abilities I possessed.

After that, we engaged in a series of cautious exchanges.

Seeing the Complex Prism, she switched tactics from powerful destructive techniques to those that could restrict or disrupt my movement. As Jason said, her skills were indeed top-notch, befitting a Ranker specialized in support. She lacked a decisive finishing move, but her targeted techniques were well-timed to keep me on edge.

Once the Complex Prism dissipated, I took a few more hits from her Color Bombs. I managed to deflect one with my horn, avoiding any negative effects, but the rest wore me down bit by bit.

One of my combat arms had gone numb, and the acidic fungal gland in my throat had significantly reduced productivity.

A gravitational force, manipulated by her psychic power, pressed down on me, leaving me unable to move with my face against the floor. Cynthia prepared another Color Bomb, aiming directly at my right wing-arm.

‘She’s targeting my right wing-arm.’

Relying on my auxiliary organ to sense the flow of her psychic power, I forced my unresponsive body to brace for the impact.

A rainbow-hued energy blast zoomed toward me, her intent to disable my flight ability evident. But the Color Bomb veered off in an entirely different direction, missing me completely.

“…Damn it!”

After nearly ten minutes of fighting, this was the first time her attack had missed. Her short curse held a note of intense frustration.

In that brief interval, I managed to crawl out of her gravity control zone. She fired another Color Bomb in my direction, but again, it flew off to some unintended target.

“Why is this….”

Her voice was tinged with confusion, as if she couldn’t understand why her attacks were missing. Yet she seemed unable to focus her thoughts properly.

I knew exactly why. Pointing a finger on my wing-arm, I gestured behind her.

She turns her head in the direction my finger is pointing.

Behind her, the pirates are silent, a drastic shift from earlier. Their faces are pallid, especially one rather large pirate who’s clutching his chest as if to squeeze it, gasping for breath.

“No way…”

She whips her head around, glaring at me with bloodshot eyes. Her red gaze isn’t just from anger.

The weapon I chose to penetrate her shield is nothing other than:

‘Time.’

Due to PS-111’s interference, the oxygen levels in this fortress are dropping steadily. Within an hour, no human inside will be able to stand upright.

Normally, each command center has independent oxygen supplies for emergencies like this. But now, those systems aren’t working. As I made my way here, I left the command center in ruins, allowing more oxygen to leak out than to flow in.

Twenty minutes have passed since it started venting oxygen into space. It's about time she and the pirates begin to feel the effects.

“If you can’t breathe, you die. That applies to cults as well.”

In this respect, Amorph has its advantages. It can go for long periods without breathing.

“…Montana, go inside.”

“Are…you sure…you’ll be alright?”

Instead of answering, she ushers the pirates onto the transport vessel. They’ll last a bit longer inside, where a small amount of oxygen is still being supplied.

Of course, Cynthia has to face me, so she’s an exception.

Preparing for the fight, she speaks up.

“I have something to say, Rank Five.”

Odd that she’d risk talking when it puts her at a disadvantage. Doesn’t she realize time works against her?

‘Has her mind gone cloudy?’

Judging by her constant sweating and unsteady breaths, it's clear she’s desperate.

“In games, maybe, but this is reality. If conversation’s possible, there’s no need to avoid it, is there?”

She isn’t wrong, but there’s no real reason to talk. We’re fighting to kill each other, and this conversation could give her a chance to counterattack.

“Have you sunk so deep into Amorph’s existence that you even refuse to speak with a fellow human?”

At her words, I involuntarily hesitate.

“A fellow human?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to say that after hunting other players.”

She’s part of Jason’s group—the one that tried to enslave the Mother of the Sky and killed other players to seize their rewards.

“My request for dialogue has to do with that very matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t share their beliefs at all. In fact, I didn’t take any rewards.”

This isn’t new—Jason himself mentioned it. Cynthia, despite working with him, never directly claimed any rewards.

In my experience, rewards can only be taken by killing someone directly. Muriel and Jason’s rewards were seized through such means.

“That’s a weak excuse. You still contributed to other players’ deaths.”

“That was to achieve my faction’s goals. Associating with them was a matter of intelligence gathering.”

“Intelligence?”

Cynthia, struggling to breathe, reaches a hand to her chest.

“Rank Five, isn’t the reason you consume others to reach the end of evolution—to transcend?”

“Yes.”

I answered simply, as it wasn’t something I needed to hide.

She continued in a more stable tone.

“My comrades and I aim to clear the game and return home.”

Her words brought to mind something the Mother of the Sky mentioned before.

There was a conflict between players aiming for an ending and those striving to rule this world.

And I lean more towards the former.

“Would you consider cooperating with us?”

So Cynthia’s proposal was within my expectations.

‘Cooperation, huh.’

Even without much thought, it’s quite tempting.

Cynthia’s faction likely knows that players once tried to cooperate to see the ending but failed for some reason. Despite that, if they’re still pursuing the end, it suggests they might have valuable knowledge I don’t possess.

With how much the game has changed, moving forward with prior knowledge versus without it makes a tremendous difference. If the difficulty of the ending mission has skyrocketed, cooperating with them would certainly be advantageous.

‘It’s obvious, but….’

But her proposal comes with a trap. After a moment’s thought, I made my decision.

“I decline.”

“You must…excuse me?”

Cynthia, assuming I’d accept, stares at me, her face a picture of disbelief.