Chapter 130

No response came to the question of how many remained. However, it wasn’t a question meant to receive an answer.

‘I intended to see.’

A part of the parasite’s spirit that hadn’t been reclaimed yet reflected in my thoughts. Tonight, I had run around diligently trying to deal with this thing, but the parasite still had ‘spares’ left that rendered all my efforts meaningless.

As the host body let out its final breath, a fragment of the entity’s consciousness within was recovered. I quickly moved on.

It has a head too. It’s obvious that acting alone is disadvantageous. Even in the once-popular space RTS games, sending out just one unit would get you wiped out instantly.

Originally, it’s common knowledge that it’s more efficient to have several people take on one opponent—from clumping air units together in games to brightly-colored martial artists on TV.

However, the parasite couldn’t gather its fleshly forms as easily as theory suggested. Its “units” didn’t spawn immediately from a single building like in games; they were spread widely around Algus City and were currently being gathered into one place.

If compared to an RTS game, it’s like hastily recalling scattered reconnaissance units. Any unit will have a moment when it’s ‘alone’ before joining up.

There are still many bodies that haven’t joined the parasite’s main force. How long can it endure this hemorrhage?

***

“Damn you!”

The parasite shouted loudly. The cry, resembling a convulsion, was directed at Ortes who held a sword resembling a plank.

“You’re one. I am many. Even as you incapacitate this body, my army continues to gather.”

“That’s right. You still have over a hundred reserve bodies remaining.”

That calm revelation didn’t fluster the parasite. Its opponent was a monster among monsters, likely active for centuries longer than itself.

Back in the days of dragons, only their experience could compare to what this creature possessed. While carefully keeping distance and forming an encircling net with nearby bodies, the parasite asked,

“Why do you go so far to hinder me?”

This was also a way to buy time, but it also stemmed from genuine curiosity. At first glance, it seems advantageous for Ortes in terms of physical competition since he surpasses the parasite’s individual bodies.

But from the parasite’s perspective, this was a difference in approach. It had chosen diversified investment for a more stable solution, whereas Ortes was like a gambler betting all his resources on one body.

While the parasite has spare bodies, Ortes surely only has the one he’s using now.

Should he be struck down by some blind swing, it would take considerable time to find a suitable replacement body and tame its spirit. This was not a risk that could be easily ignored.

Indeed, it was a difficult question to answer, for even Ortes, who until now had been stabbing indiscriminately—sometimes at the neck, sometimes at the heart or spine—paused his brutal swordplay and fell silent.

“Well, why do you seek metamorphosis?”

“Now that’s a laughable question. Does a caterpillar need a reason to become a butterfly? Is there any other reason besides instinct to strive to become a better, complete existence?”

The parasite deliberately elaborated. If Ortes was created by the same entity, then he couldn’t fail to understand this intense desire, this instinct ingrained in their kind.

‘Wait a moment.’

That question was an answer to ‘Why do you torment me so incessantly?’

In essence, it meant, ‘My nature compels me to destroy you.’

The expression on the parasite-controlled body wavered strangely—a manifestation of disbelief. The confusion was so profound that it momentarily forgot to make the body display an appropriate expression for the situation.

The parasite slowly retraced the current situation. It already knew that several others of its kind existed. It had sensed the presence of those who attempted metamorphosis throughout history.

Among them was an individual compelled by the instinct to kill its own kind.

Was this a mutation born of time that even a fearsome creator couldn’t control? Or was it part of the creator’s plan?

‘If this was specially prepared by the creator…’

The intention was clear:

‘To exterminate. To kill the bugs that missed the time for metamorphosis.’

The parasite dismissed this unpleasant speculation. The creator was fearsome, but not omnipotent. This must be a mutation beyond the creator’s expectations.

‘I cannot have fallen behind the times…!’

Ortes was peering into the parasite’s inner thoughts.

‘Here we go again with the creator talk.’

One of the reasons Ortes pursued the parasite against Carisia’s orders was because of this.

Ortes himself would never admit it, but the biggest reason he hunted the parasite was concern—not for others, but for his own future, which he might excuse as worry.

And in Ortes’s view, the ‘creator’ the parasite kept mentioning was highly likely to become a future threat.

‘Even though this thing showed considerable naivety by falling for my bluff, it’s a monster that has lived through unfathomable ages.’

Even as Ortes tried to glean information through observation, the accumulated memories were too vast to decipher one by one. Now, only by probing psychology could faintly relevant words surface.

While indulging the parasite’s stalling tactics, Ortes needed to extract information as well.

Therefore, Ortes chose words that would most effectively provoke the parasite.

“You said a caterpillar doesn’t need a reason to become a butterfly, correct? Let’s say rejecting ugliness and pursuing beauty is our nature. Then, cleaning up filth destined to remain ugly forever is naturally an instinct, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You, who have failed to metamorphose from the mythological age till now.”

Ortes spoke carefully, selecting words that would incite anyone listening to lose self-control.

“Defeat of the past.”

“…!”

It was mockery that seemed to peer directly into its mind. Along with sudden anger, the parasite felt a fear that perhaps its ‘unpleasant speculations’ weren’t mere delusions but reality.

An arrangement to eliminate the defeated.

However,

‘Even if this is a special executioner set by the creator for the defeated.’

It matters little here and now. The true victor is the one who survives to the end.

“So, you too, unable to achieve metamorphosis, keep spouting nonsense. Has your reason been paralyzed by investing everything in one body?”

“Don’t you know? You’re the bait for creatures like you. Just like rats rushing to food and dying in traps. After I’ve cleaned up the dregs clinging to the world, I’ll ascend to the promised glory.”

‘Seriously. Why does it treat me like an artificial life form?’

Ortes hesitated briefly. Come to think of it, there was a high possibility that this body he inhabited now had connections to the ancient cult.

Though the parasite’s claim of ‘kindred’ was a serious logical leap, if there was a special reason it considered him kin, it might provide clues to uncover the secrets of this body.

‘What to do.’

It was a fact that he couldn’t completely annihilate all the parasite’s bodies right now. Ortes couldn’t figure out a way to wipe out the parasitic consciousness intertwined between spirits all at once.

‘Could brainwashing magic work?’

If there truly was an exceptionally skilled mental magician capable of overwhelming the centuries-old monster’s spirit, perhaps they could kill the parasite outright.

However, among the magicians friendly to Ortes, only Carisia reached such a level, but she preferred physically vaporizing her opponents rather than mentally tormenting them.

She was an expert in red-hot methods of brainwashing rather than subtle magical suggestions.

‘Ultimately, no matter how long we fight here, it’s merely symptomatic treatment.’

While Ortes pondered ways to deal with the parasite internally, the parasite was lost in its own thoughts.

‘Bait, huh?’

Of course. Something so perfectly suited for metamorphosis couldn’t have arisen naturally. That body, perfectly suited for metamorphosis in this era, was undoubtedly created intentionally by someone.

That someone was obviously…

Slowly, the parasite opened its mouth.

“When were you born?”

‘Is it questioning my age here?’

Bringing up seniority. It was unexpected, something rarely seen while Ortes was conscious.

But Ortes’ experience in deception was too extensive to show any sign of surprise here.

“Young enough to call your time ‘the past.’”

It was a fluid, natural provocation.

***