Volume 2 Chapter 44: What If I Were a White-Haired, Red-Eyed Beautiful Girl?
The streets of Trimounts City remained brightly lit under the night sky. Neon lights of various colors illuminated every alleyway, and many office workers who had just gotten off work sat at street-side stalls, downing large gulps of golden ale as they loudly complained about the frustrations of their day.
Garde's towering figure happened to block the narrow port entrance. No one paid attention to the creature lurking in the shadows, nor did they care what it truly looked like. Even if someone caught a glimpse, they would likely assume it was some unknown crustacean beast or an Originium insect.
But Originium insects and crustacean beasts did not speak.
The deformed creature resembled a pile of sludge, its growth evidently hindered by some accident, preventing it from even maintaining a basic humanoid form.
"Hunter, I have come to find you."
The grotesque being spoke in human tongue, its large, black-and-white eyes fixed intently on the crocodilian man who had just left the supermarket, carrying two bags of groceries in his hands.
A Seaborn!
Garde recognized what this creature was. He had long warned the people at Rhine Lab not to recklessly collect Seaborn tissue samples.
Yet someone still brought a Seaborn's body here.
If this had been an ordinary Seaborn, Garde could have killed it and erased its existence.
Columbia was far from the ocean. As long as he handled things properly, no information would ever travel across such a vast distance to the distant coastline.
But this was no ordinary Seaborn.
Somehow, across an unfathomable distance, the "god" of the Seaborn had descended its will into this grotesque body. And with time, the deformed mass was beginning to change.
It slowly stood up, its form gradually shifting into something more humanoid.
But it didn't quite succeed.
A crossbow bolt shot from afar, piercing into its body with pinpoint accuracy.
"Found it!"
Garde heard a voice. Without hesitation, he resumed walking, blending seamlessly into the crowd as if nothing had happened.
"Hunter?"
The deep-sea consciousness attempted to make its body move, to chase after Garde. But the crossbow bolt pinning it down left it struggling in place, forced to watch as the hunter walked further and further away.
The hunter does not wish to see me!
The deep-sea consciousness thought, its attention shifting back to the body it had descended into.
It realized—one of its kin was injured!
The land-dwellers were hunting its kin.
It needed to protect them.
Its kin required nourishment—sustenance.
The deep-sea consciousness controlled its kin's body and turned its gaze toward the pedestrians on the street.
Footsteps echoed from deep within the alleyway.
"This is the one?"
"It looks really strange."
"Who cares? Hurry up and take it. If the people from Rhine Lab catch up, we're screwed."
Before they could make a move, a shadowy figure appeared behind them.
"You cannot take it."
"Who's there?!"
The two mercenaries in uniform barely had time to turn around before two massive hands gripped their heads.
BANG!
A heavy impact sounded, and the two men immediately lost consciousness.
"Hunter!"
The Seaborn suppressed its hunger and turned to look at Garde.
Without hesitation, Garde reached out and pulled the crossbow bolt from the Seaborn's body, preparing to take it away.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
The sound of applause came from behind him.
Garde turned his crocodilian head to see several figures breaking off from the flow of pedestrians, gathering at the entrance of the alley, blocking his way out.
"Impressive. As expected of the man who's survived the Hotlands twice… I didn't expect you to track us down so quickly. If all of Columbia's corporate security chiefs were like you, our jobs would be a lot harder."
The equipment worn by the large Forte man was clearly on a different level than that of the two mercenaries lying at Garde's feet.
He cast a playful glance at the Seaborn writhing at Garde's feet before speaking.
"Did you really think you could deceive everyone? This is Columbia, not Sargon. Rhine Lab left behind a simple blood sample, yet smuggled the actual organism back to Trimounts in secret. That wasn't exactly a wise move."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Garde frowned. He found the accusation absurd. If the Seaborn's 'god' hadn't manipulated it into seeking him out, he wouldn't have even known that Rhine Lab had secretly kept a piece of Seaborn tissue for research.
"It doesn't matter if you deny it."
The large Forte man shrugged and pointed at the Seaborn, which was now squirming toward Garde's feet.
"Just hand over this creature, and we'll forget about everything that happened before."
From the moment Garde had arrived in Trimounts five days ago, they had sensed something was off. They had been investigating Rhine Lab ever since, and sure enough, they had uncovered traces of something suspicious.
Did Rhine Lab really think that by registering this creature—brought back from the Hotlands—as an ordinary Originium-based lifeform, they could fool everyone?
A little bit of money was all it took to obtain the lab's test data, and most of it focused on the creature's resistance to various substances—especially Originium exposure.
That lined up perfectly.
A certain species from the Hotlands was known to possess extraordinary physiological resistance to Originium. Years ago, an Adakrys explorer had accidentally discovered this and extracted a serum from the creature's body that could suppress Oripathy.
Everyone believed that Rhine Lab had retrieved some ancient civilization's miracle drug from the Hotlands.
Little did they know, the so-called 'cure' was merely the blood of a creature that lived there.
The Forte man's reasoning was impressively close to the truth.
A serum that suppressed Oripathy was indeed derived from the blood of a living organism.
Unfortunately, it wasn't from the Seaborn at Garde's feet—it was from a black dragon.
If one could somehow infect a Seaborn with Oripathy and force it to adapt to the disease, then perhaps, eventually, it could produce a serum that counteracted the infection.
But who in their right mind would dare inject themselves with Seaborn blood?
Even with the advanced biotechnology of the Ægir, their creation of specialized Abyssal Hunters like Laurentina still couldn't fully prevent the risk of losing control.
What made these land-dwellers think they could extract a serum from a Seaborn and inject it without succumbing to its corruption?
Weakness is not a sin.
Arrogance is!
"Hunter?"
At Garde's feet, the Seaborn had wriggled its way to him.
Its clear, oversized eyes gazed up at him, unblinking.
It seemed... pleased that Garde had returned.
If it even had the capacity for emotions like happiness.
Garde sighed and let the Seaborn climb onto his arm.
"Sorry, but I can't hand it over to you."
His answer made the Forte man furrow his brows, but the expression only lasted a moment before he relaxed again.
"I see."
The Forte man pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
"After all, we don't have solid proof that the creature in your hands is connected to the 'serum.' You even went so far as to forge an entry record claiming it arrived three months ago."
And so, he had never openly admitted to being part of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Arts Units and Originium.
Because some things were best handled without an official identity.
For instance, they had intentionally leaked information to Rhine Lab's rivals.
And those rivals had then discreetly hired mercenaries to raid Rhine Lab's labs.
The high-ranking figures behind the scenes had no desire to dirty their own hands over such a trivial matter.
So, all the dirty and exhausting work had to be done by people like them.
"Mr. Garde, I've heard you're quite powerful. You had barely arrived at Rhine Lab before being appointed as the Head of Defense in Trimounts."
The Forte man put on his gloves, his gaze on Garde filled with anticipation.
"I've been wanting to spar with you for some time now—to see what's so special about a man who managed to survive the Foehn Hotlands twice."
"So, don't disappoint me!"
Hearing this, Garde raised an eyebrow while grabbing the Seaborn, which was instinctively trying to burrow into his pants.
"You're a Jeston too?"
The Forte man paused, confused.
"Who's that?"
He never got an answer—because Garde moved.
The narrow alley left little room for maneuvering.
His only option was to charge straight.
Seeing Garde rush toward him, the Forte man's face lit up with excitement.
He let out a deep roar.
"Good! Come at me!"
The Forte man was bulky—though not as massive as Garde, he still stood close to two meters tall, his frame packed with solid muscle. His sheer physique alone was proof of the power he possessed.
He threw a punch at Garde.
A punch so forceful that it cut through the air, sending out a howling gust of wind.
And yet—
Garde didn't dodge.
He didn't even react.
It was as if he hadn't noticed the attack at all.
BAM!
The man's fist struck Garde squarely in the chest.
And that's when he realized something was wrong.
Too hard!
It didn't feel like he had punched flesh and bone—more like he had slammed his fist into a solid slab of metal alloy.
If that were steel, it would have at least dented under his strength.
But on Garde? Nothing.
"Is that all?"
Garde glanced at him.
The Seaborn, still clinging to Garde's shoulder, stammered in its odd, broken speech.
"Hunter… you… grew up."
"Shut up."
Garde pressed his fingers against the Seaborn's head—at least, where he assumed its head was.
Then, without hesitation, he grabbed the Forte man and threw him.
A colossal force surged through the man's body, making resistance impossible.
He hurtled through the alleyway like a bowling ball, smashing through the Bureau agents ahead, clearing a path through their formation.
Garde walked past the collapsed Bureau operatives at a leisurely pace, pulling out his communicator as he dialed Kristen's number.
Only to be met with—
[The user you are calling is currently unavailable. Please try again later.]
Garde twitched at the corner of his mouth.
If Kristen's communicator wasn't on her, the system wouldn't have responded this quickly.
She had seen his call—and deliberately declined it.
Holding back his frustration, Garde redialed.
[The user you are calling is currently unavailable. Please try again later.]
That damn woman!
Garde's already low opinion of Kristen took another sharp nosedive.
He casually dialed another number.
"Hello?"
A familiar voice came from the other end—Muelsyse.
"It's me," Garde said.
There was a brief silence.
Then—
A gruff, irritated voice erupted from the communicator.
"You damned crocodile! Where the hell have you been these past few days? I called you and you never answered! You just sat around Trimounts Institute of Technology for three days straight?!"
"I've been at the university the whole time. If you don't believe me, ask my mentor, Ho'olheyak— But let's set that aside for now. Do you know what happened at the lab in the Lower District?"
"You mean the lab attack?"
Muelsyse muttered, holding the communicator between his shoulder and ear while peeling an orange.
"You don't have to worry about that," Muelsyse said dismissively. "It's definitely just one of our corporate rivals trying to make trouble for us. Someone else will handle it."
As she spoke, she glanced at the small Whisperain sitting across from her and popped an orange slice into her mouth to keep her quiet.
"By the way, when are you coming back? Whisperain really misses you. She keeps whining about wanting to see you."
"I probably won't be coming back for now."
"Huh?"
"Tell Kristen that her subordinates have made a huge mess this time. I'm handling it right now—we'll talk about the details when I return."
If it were just a normal Seaborn, it wouldn't be much of a problem for Garde.
The real issue was the will behind this Seaborn.
Garde suspected that the Seaborn's god had already set foot on land—and was actively searching for him.
Honestly, he should be thanking the staff member who brought the Seaborn ashore. If not for them, this creature wouldn't have come to him, and its god wouldn't have reached out.
Once the Seaborn's god personally came knocking, there would be no room for negotiation.
The outcome may have worked in his favor, but that stubborn staff member? Garde really wanted to slap them twice.
Who the hell thinks it's a good idea to study Seaborn like it's some ordinary creature?!
Garde cut Muelsyse off before he could ask any more questions, hanging up the call.
"Where is the body you used to come ashore?"
As he walked outside, he asked the Seaborn on his shoulder.
The Seaborn suddenly perked up.
"Hunter, do you… wish to… mate with me?"
Garde froze.
Then immediately rejected it.
"No. Absolutely not."
What kind of sick joke was that?
Even if he were out of his mind with lust, he wouldn't mate with a pile of slimy flesh.
Besides, he had already relieved himself recently—he's in the post-nut clarity state right now..
He just wanted to find the body that the Seaborn's god was using to walk on land and figure out how to contain it before it led its entire species ashore.
"But…"
The Seaborn on his shoulder blinked at him, then stammered out:
"What if… I had… white hair… red eyes… and was a beautiful girl?"
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