[ February 13th, 2088 (Thursday, Noon) ] - [ BDV Iron Convoy #15 (Cargo Ship) > North-East Pacific Ocean > Earth ]
Three days into the voyage, the BDV Iron Convoy had become trapped in a strange state between routine and unease.
Outside the ship—
nothing changed.
Just fog.
An endless ocean of pale white haze swallowed the horizon in every direction like the world itself had been erased.
No visible sun, except the sunlight that was obscured by the fog.
No visible stars at night, except the vague starlight that was obscured by the fog.
Only the low hum of engines, the distant crashing of waves against armored hull plating, and the occasional sonar pulse vibrating faintly through the ship's structure.
Four more days remained before arrival at West Port-City, Los Angeles.
And to Niero—
it somehow felt like four years.
At this point, he had memorized half the ship's corridors by pure boredom alone.
The orientations continued relentlessly.
Academy etiquette.
Emergency combat doctrine.
Dormitory regulations.
Citizenship advancement structures.
Even the so-called "fun activities" had become increasingly surreal through repetition.
Icebreakers.
Trust exercises.
Team-building games.
One event involved candidates building makeshift bridges out of plastic rods and tape.
Bart accidentally built a catapult instead. Not sure how his pea brain works.
Another activity involved "sharing emotional aspirations."
Flick answered with:
"Financial independence and competent peers."
JD answered:
"Money, muscles, and legendary aura."
Bart answered:
"I wanna pet a shark someday."
Then everyone stared at Niero.
He simply answered:
"…I dunno. Freedom?"
That answer somehow got written down seriously by the supervising counselor.
At least the food improved slightly after the second day.
Or perhaps Stockholm syndrome had begun settling in.
Either way, Niero had adapted enough to settle into the bizarre rhythm of ship life.
And somehow—
he had gotten used to Cabin C-12.
Mostly.
Mentally, Niero had already categorized his roommates.
JD — loud, bombastic, talks like he's permanently inside a rap battle, but surprisingly chill once someone got used to him. The kind of guy who could befriend strangers in under three minutes.
Flick — still absolutely a rich posh bastard, but gradually less insufferable. Underneath the haughty attitude and expensive vocabulary, he was weirdly dependable. Unfortunately, he genuinely believed most life problems could be solved with enough money, influence, or legal threats.
And then—
Bart.
Bart was…well...
Bart.
A human golden retriever trapped inside the body of a physically athletic teenage boy.
Far too friendly.
Far too trusting.
And somehow already convinced Niero was his:
"Super bestest friend."
Niero still had no idea how or why that happened.
Now it had escalated to Bart casually sitting beside Niero during meals, training orientations, and even random hallway conversations like an attached, summoned creature.
At the moment, the four boys occupied one of the ship's common lounge areas.
JD was sprawled upside down on a couch listening to music.
Flick sat nearby scrolling market reports on his SmartCom like a middle-aged investor trapped in a teenager's body.
Bart was enthusiastically attempting to teach Niero a card game.
And Niero himself stared blankly out one of the reinforced viewing windows toward the endless fog outside.
The ocean beyond humanity's walls felt wrong.
Not visually.
Instinctively.
Like something was always out there just beyond sight.
Watching.
Waiting.
=
Cabin C-12 had somehow evolved into controlled dysfunction over the past three days.
At the moment, the room was illuminated mostly by ceiling lights and the glow of multiple SmartCom screens.
Niero and JD sat side by side on Niero's lower bunk, completely locked into a cooperative RPG raid match on their SmartComs smartphones.
Or at least cooperative in theory.
In practice, both were aggressively competing for damage numbers and loot drops.
"BRO SHOOT THE HEALER FIRST—"
"I AM SHOOTING THE HEALER!"
On-screen, their heavily armed characters stormed through a gothic fortress blasting apart mutated enemies with absurdly oversized sci-fi firearms.
JD's build specialized in heavy automatic weapons and explosives.
Niero's build focused on mobility, precision shots, and high critical damage.
Bart sat between them on the floor absolutely mesmerized.
"DUDE THAT GUN LOOKS AWESOME."
"THROW THE GRENADE—THROW THE FUCKING GRENADE—"
Meanwhile, above them, Flick lay elegantly across the top bunk, reading a digital fashion magazine while occasionally switching to ArkNet social media feeds.
Even while relaxing, he somehow looked like he was posing for luxury advertisements.
Then—
Everything froze.
The game lagged violently.
Niero's screen stuttered.
JD's character abruptly walked into enemy fire like a suicidal idiot.
The connection died.
CONNECTION LOST
Silence.
A beat later—
"NOOOOOOO!"
JD nearly collapsed backward dramatically.
"THE LOOT!"
Niero stared at his screen in disbelief.
"We were literally at the boss' 10 HP left..."
Bart blinked.
"…Did we win?"
"WE LOST EVERYTHING, DUDE!!!"
At the same time, Flick's expression twisted into genuine irritation from above.
"…Wonderful."
He tapped his SmartCom repeatedly.
"ArkNet signal disruption."
Niero sighed and leaned back against the bunk.
"It's probably the fog."
The others looked toward him.
Niero shrugged.
"We're outside MAC-01. The anomaly fog probably messes with civilian ArkNet connections."
JD groaned dramatically.
"Man, this place SUCKS."
Flick adjusted himself slightly on the bunk.
"Military-grade communications likely still function. Civilian bandwidth is probably being deprioritized."
Niero blinked once.
"…How do you know that?"
"My family owns communication investments; they even taught me about it..."
A pause.
"…Of course they do."
JD rubbed his face in frustration.
"So what now? We got like an hour before the next mandatory friendship ritual."
Niero immediately answered:
"We could sleep."
Bart's face lit up with dangerous enthusiasm.
"OR—"
Everyone instinctively looked at him with concern.
"WE PLAY TRUTH OR DARE."
The cabin became quiet.
Then Flick slowly lowered his magazine.
His expression radiated aristocratic judgment.
"Wonderful idea."
Heavy sarcasm.
"Perhaps afterward we can braid each other's hair and discuss our favorite feelings."
Bart pointed excitedly.
"YOU'RE IN??"
"I was mocking you."
At that moment, JD leaned back against the bunk ladder after Bart's declaration of "Truth or Dare diplomacy," rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Y'know…"
He pointed around the cabin.
"We've been roommates for three whole days and barely know jack shit about each other except a bare minimum."
Niero crossed his arms.
"Because normally people don't immediately dump personal information onto complete strangers."
From the top bunk, Flick nodded approvingly.
"Exactly. Boundaries exist for a reason."
JD rolled his eyes.
"Y'all sound like HR departments."
Before the discussion could derail into another argument, Bart abruptly sat upright like an excited puppy remembering a trick.
"OH! I'LL START!"
No one had technically agreed to anything yet.
That did not matter.
Bart proudly pointed both thumbs at himself.
"I'm Bartholomew Correy, candidate 333, from Sector 19!"
He grinned widely.
"The farming sector."
JD nodded slowly.
"Aight. Farm boy."
"I love chocolate and steak—"
"Reasonable."
"—and my Metatalent is growing bigger."
Silence.
Niero blinked once.
JD blinked twice.
Flick slowly lowered his SmartCom.
Niero finally spoke first.
"…What does that mean?"
Bart answered confidently.
"I grow bigger."
JD leaned forward.
"Like taller?"
"Bigger."
Niero tried again.
"More muscular?"
"Bigger."
Flick joined in reluctantly.
"Mass increase? Bone density? Cellular expansion?"
Bart nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah!"
A beat.
"…So which one?"
Bart smiled proudly.
"Bigger."
Niero stared deadpan.
JD looked physically exhausted already.
"Bro talking in side quests."
Niero rubbed his forehead.
"Can you become giant-sized?"
Bart thought carefully.
"Kinda?"
"Can you bulk up your muscles?"
"Sorta?"
"Can you explain your power?"
Bart nodded confidently.
"I grow bigger."
Niero collapsed backward dramatically.
"WE'RE GOING IN FUCKING CIRCLES."
Even Flick pinched the bridge of his nose.
Meanwhile, Bart remained completely unaware of the suffering he caused.
Thankfully, the topic was abandoned before someone strangled him with a pillow.
JD immediately pointed at himself.
"Aight, my turn."
He straightened up proudly.
"Joyce Daughtry. Candidate 084. Sector 20."
He flashed finger guns.
"Industrial sector, baby."
Then dramatically:
"Future rap legend. Future graffiti icon. Future cultural movement."
Flick muttered from above:
"Future public disturbance."
JD ignored him professionally.
"Favorite food?"
He placed a hand over his chest solemnly.
"Double cheeseburger."
"Hell yeah," Niero admitted.
Then JD grinned wider.
"And my Metatalent?"
He raised one hand.
A faint green glow emerged around his arm.
Psionic energy rapidly formed over his fist and forearm like translucent mechanical armor plating assembling from pure force of will.
Segments locked together with glowing geometric seams.
Semi-robotic.
Semi-organic.
Like an armored exoskeleton made of hardlight.
Bart's eyes widened immediately.
"WHOA."
JD flexed proudly.
The construct fist enlarged slightly with a low humming sound.
"Psionic construct generation."
He shadowboxed once.
The air made a soft WHUMPH.
"Mostly around my upper body. Arms and fists hit way harder with these on."
Niero examined the construct carefully.
Unlike Mana Arts, Psionic abilities felt more individualized.
More psychologically shaped.
Leaning towards humanity's evolutionary potential rather than being a female empowered by supernatural energy.
JD's construct reflected him perfectly.
Direct.
Aggressive.
Flashy.
And honestly kinda cool.
Even Flick looked mildly impressed despite himself.
"Primitive aesthetic."
JD immediately pointed his glowing fist upward.
"Say one more rich boy sentence, and I'm gonna shove these up your ass and puppeteer ya like a fucking muppet."
Flick closed his magazine calmly.
"Violence is the language of the uncultured, especially for your foul mouth."
Bart, meanwhile, stared at the construct like a child discovering fireworks for the first time.
"Can you make giant robot arms?"
JD grinned.
"Not yet, but I like how you think."
At that moment, the cabin atmosphere relaxed slightly.
For the first time since boarding the convoy—
they no longer entirely felt like strangers trapped together by circumstance.
Just four very different idiots sharing the same cabin beyond humanity's walls.
After JD's flashy demonstration, all attention naturally shifted upward toward the final occupant of Cabin C-12.
Flick immediately sensed it.
And visibly regretted it.
He remained lying elegantly on the top bunk with one leg crossed over the other, pretending to continue reading his digital fashion magazine despite obviously listening.
Niero looked up at him.
"Your turn."
Flick did not even glance down.
"I value privacy."
JD immediately groaned.
"Man, shut up."
Bart nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah! Friendship lore time!"
Flick slowly lowered the magazine with the exhausted expression of someone surrounded by barbarians.
"…Fine."
He sat up properly, adjusting his expensive-looking silk sleepwear like a prince forced to interact with peasants.
"Lee Feilin."
A dramatic pause.
"Of the Lee Conglomerate."
JD whistled softly.
Even Niero recognized the name.
The Lee Conglomerate was one of the massive groups within MAC-01.
Fashion.
Luxury jewelry.
Telecommunications.
Even licensed Hollow artifact acquisitions and auctions.
Ridiculously wealthy.
Flick continued with completely unearned smugness:
"Sector 05, naturally."
The way he said it naturally made JD immediately throw a pillow at him.
Flick effortlessly caught it midair without looking.
Then—
The pillow stopped floating.
Bart gasped instantly.
Several pens from the table slowly rose upward into the air beside Flick.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
The pens rotated smoothly around him in perfectly controlled arcs like a magician's performance.
Psychokinesis.
Clean.
Precise.
Elegant.
Unlike JD's aggressive construct ability, Flick's power radiated refinement and control.
The floating pens spun faster before suddenly halting motionless in midair.
Bart stared in amazement.
"WHOOOA."
JD leaned forward.
"Okay, that's actually kinda sick."
Flick smirked proudly.
Naturally encouraged by the attention, he manipulated the pens into increasingly elaborate patterns.
Spinning.
Stacking.
Balancing.
Orbiting around each other.
Like a rich kid showing off at a talent competition.
Niero nodded politely.
"Wow."
Outwardly impressed.
Internally?
Average.
At best.
Compared to what Niero could currently accomplish after nearly a year of brutal psionic training under Mom and endless practice inside the Ego-Space, Flick's psychokinesis felt… refined but limited.
Precise manipulation.
Low mass.
No combat complexity.
No multi-layered control.
Vuldyr quietly commented inside his mind:
> ["Control quality acceptable. Output moderate. Efficiency above average for his age bracket."]
Niero mentally replied:
"Still weaker than mine."
> ["Substantially."]
That tiny bit of ego satisfaction warmed him slightly.
Meanwhile, Flick continued his display with increasing arrogance now that he had an audience.
One of the pens spun around JD's head mockingly.
"Raw brute force abilities are dreadfully inelegant compared to refined telekinetics."
JD immediately pointed at himself.
"Aight, but can your floating pens beat my giant energy fists?"
Flick smirked.
"Can your giant energy fists purchase a private island?"
"…I hate you rich people."
Bart, meanwhile, looked between both of them excitedly, like he was watching live entertainment.
Then his attention suddenly snapped toward Niero.
"WAIT."
Dangerous words.
"Niero didn't go yet."
All eyes shifted toward him immediately.
Niero internally sighed.
Of course.
All three boys looked toward Niero expectantly now.
Even Flick, despite pretending disinterest, was clearly listening.
Niero leaned back casually against the bunk.
"Niero Ripley."
He pointed vaguely toward himself.
"Sector 13."
JD nodded immediately.
"Habitation district, right?"
"Yeah. My family runs a café there."
Bart perked up.
"WAIT REALLY?"
Niero nodded.
"Maison Bella Cafe."
That immediately got reactions.
JD snapped his fingers.
"AYO HOLD UP."
He pointed dramatically.
"I know that cafe. My weedhead cousin bought bagel sandwiches there before when he got the munchies."
Niero blinked.
"…That's certainly a unique customer demographic, especially someone from 7 sectors away ."
From above, Flick actually looked interested for once.
"Maison Bella…"
He thought for a second.
"Your café makes that famous hazelnut chocolate latte, correct?"
Now Niero looked mildly surprised.
"Yeah?"
Flick looked genuinely annoyed.
"I have wanted to try it for months."
JD burst out laughing.
"Rich boy defeated by scheduling."
Flick scoffed.
"Boarding academies are academically demanding. It's not like I can just tell my servants to get one for me. I have to be there to drink it fresh."
Bart, meanwhile, looked surprised.
"WAIT YOU GUYS SELL FOOD?"
Niero slowly pointed at him.
"Uh...Yeah. That's what cafés do."
"THAT'S SO COOL."
JD leaned back again.
"Aight, what about your power then?"
Niero answered smoothly without hesitation.
"Psionic, enhancement type."
A safe answer.
Technically true.
"[Booster.]"
Bart tilted his head.
"What's it do?"
"Temporary physical enhancement."
Niero shrugged casually.
"Strength. Speed. Durability. Stuff like that."
JD immediately grinned.
"So your metatalent is the ability to make yourself stronger for a limited time?"
"In a nutshell, yeah."
Flick crossed his arms.
"Demonstrate."
Of course he would say that.
JD immediately joined in.
"Yeah, c'mon."
Bart practically vibrated with excitement.
"SUPER POWERS."
Niero internally cursed.
Demonstrating even a fraction of his real physical capability inside this cramped cabin would immediately raise questions.
Before he could invent an excuse—
Knock knock.
Everyone looked toward the cabin door.
Niero stood and opened it.
Standing outside casually with one hand inside his trench coat pocket—
was Agent Takeshi Armitage.
Of course it was him.
The swordsman gave his usual relaxed smile.
"Yo."
Niero immediately narrowed his eyes.
"…Why are you here?"
Takeshi pointed lazily toward him.
"Need to borrow you for a bit."
JD mouthed silently:
Borrow?
Takeshi continued:
"Interview stuff."
He made finger quotes around "interview."
Which somehow made it more suspicious.
Niero immediately felt irritated.
But at the same time—
perfect escape opportunity.
He immediately turned back toward the others and spread his hands dramatically.
"Ah. Duty calls."
JD groaned loudly.
"Bro was about to show the power-up."
Flick looked unconvinced.
Bart looked emotionally betrayed.
"NOOOO."
Niero pointed toward Takeshi.
"Blame Katana Man."
Takeshi gave a small bow.
"I accept no responsibility."
Niero grabbed his jacket casually and stepped into the hallway.
Before leaving, he glanced back once.
JD already looked like he was preparing to bully Flick verbally again.
Flick was visibly preparing counterarguments.
Bart sat in the center of the room smiling ominously.
Niero immediately sensed danger.
Then Bart asked happily:
"HEY GUYS, WANNA HEAR THE MOST ANNOYING SOUND EVER?"
JD pointed instantly.
"Wait! Don't—"
Too late.
Bart inhaled deeply.
Then unleashed a horrific noise somewhere between:
A drunk bear.
A malfunctioning trumpet.
And a dying lawnmower.
The sound echoed through the cabin walls.
JD screamed.
Flick shouted actual profanity for the first time since Niero met him.
And as Niero calmly closed the cabin door behind him—
he could still hear the chaos continuing inside.
Takeshi stared at the closed door quietly for a moment.
Then looked at Niero.
"…Interesting roommates."
Niero rubbed his forehead tiredly.
"You have no idea."
=
=====
=
[ February 13th, 2088 (Thursday, Afternoon) ] - [ BDV Iron Convoy #15 (Cargo Ship) > Pacific Ocean > Earth ]
The metal deck outside the ship was freezing.
Cold ocean wind swept across the outer walkway of the BDV Iron Convoy #15, carrying misty droplets from the endless fog-covered Pacific. Beyond the railings, the ocean was barely visible beneath the pale gray haze surrounding the convoy.
The world outside the ship felt eerily empty.
Just fog.
Water.
And distant engine vibrations humming beneath their feet.
Niero leaned against the railing with both hands in his coat pockets while Agent Takeshi Armitage rested nearby beside him, his posture relaxed as usual.
For several minutes—
silence.
Just the sound of wind and the distant groaning of the ship's metal structure.
Takeshi casually unscrewed his metal flask and took a sip.
The sharp smell of alcohol briefly mixed with the salty air.
Niero finally broke the silence.
"Why are we here?"
Takeshi nodded thoughtfully.
"Ah…"
He looked toward the fog dramatically.
"That is one of life's greatest mysteries."
Niero immediately cut him off.
"No."
Deadpan.
"I mean—like—why are we literally here? Outside the ship. Specifically."
Takeshi blinked once.
Then burst out laughing.
"Kid, you ruin the philosophical moments way too fast."
Niero crossed his arms.
"And you sound like a drunk uncle."
"That hurts."
Takeshi took another sip from his flask anyway.
Then he shrugged casually.
"I just wanted to talk."
That immediately put Niero on alert internally.
Not visibly.
But mentally.
Vuldyr quietly monitored the swordsman from within Niero's consciousness.
> ["Elevated caution is advised."]
Niero remained outwardly calm.
"Is this about the 'bonus' thing you mentioned during the try-outs?"
Takeshi suddenly placed a hand over his chest like he had been emotionally wounded.
"Wow."
"You really think I'm that shallow?"
Niero stared at him flatly.
The kind of stare that communicated:
Yes. Absolutely.
Takeshi held the silence for two seconds.
Then sighed dramatically.
"…Okay. Partially about the bonus."
Niero snorted quietly.
The swordsman pointed accusingly at him.
"Hey, referral incentives are important. Do you know how expensive food and booze are these days?"
"Probably all that premium stuff you should cut off for a while. You work for a government agency."
"And yet somehow I'm still broke."
Niero honestly could not tell if he was joking.
Probably both.
Takeshi leaned against the railing beside him.
For once, his tone became slightly more genuine.
"Still. I did want to talk."
He glanced sideways at Niero.
"You're interesting."
Not threatening.
Not aggressive.
Which somehow made it more suspicious.
Niero frowned slightly.
"You keep saying things like that."
"Because it's true."
The cold wind howled briefly between them.
Takeshi tapped the metal flask lightly against the railing.
"Most kids your age either try too hard to impress people…"
He raised one finger.
"…or they act tough because they're scared."
Second finger.
"You?"
He looked directly at Niero now.
"You act like someone constantly measuring the room."
Niero's expression remained controlled.
But inwardly—
he felt tension.
Because Takeshi was not entirely wrong.
The agent continued casually:
"You observe first. You calculate. Even during the Profession Day."
He smirked slightly.
"You held yourself back a lot."
Vuldyr immediately became alert.
> ["Potential danger."]
Niero kept his voice level.
"Lots of candidates held back."
"True."
Takeshi nodded.
"But most people holding back look restrained."
He pointed lazily toward Niero.
"You looked annoyed."
That…
was uncomfortably accurate.
Niero clicked his tongue softly.
"Do you analyze teenagers for fun?"
"Part of the job."
Then Takeshi suddenly grinned again, instantly breaking the serious atmosphere.
"Also, I get bored easily."
There it was.
The weird uncle energy again.
Niero exhaled slowly through his nose.
"So what exactly do you want from me?"
Takeshi looked out toward the endless fog again.
For a brief moment—
his relaxed demeanor dimmed slightly.
"Honestly?"
He tapped the railing softly.
"I think kids like you are gonna become important soon."
The tone shift caught Niero's attention immediately.
The fog beyond the ship seemed heavier somehow.
Darker.
Takeshi continued quietly:
"The world outside the walls is getting worse."
"And the next generation's gonna inherit that mess."
Then his easygoing smile returned again almost instantly.
"Plus, if you become famous later, I can brag I recruited you first."
Niero stared at him.
"…You ruined the moment."
=
The freezing wind howled across the outer deck as the massive cargo vessel pushed through the fog-covered Pacific.
Agent Takeshi continued leaning lazily against the railing before casually extending his slim metal flask toward Niero.
"Drink?"
Niero looked at the flask.
Then at him.
"I'm sixteen."
"And?"
"I'm barely legal to drink."
Takeshi looked genuinely confused for a second.
"Kid."
He shook the flask slightly.
"Life's too short to follow boring rules."
Niero raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds like something an alcoholic says."
"That hurts."
Takeshi took another sip himself.
Then he casually added:
"Besides."
He gestured vaguely around them.
"You literally signed up for a profession where people get dismembered by anomalies beyond the walls. Pretty sure underage drinking stopped being the biggest concern."
Fair point.
Still—
Niero refused the flask with a small hand wave.
Takeshi shrugged and pocketed it again.
The two remained quiet for another moment while fog drifted endlessly around the convoy.
Then Niero narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Why are you actually here?"
Takeshi glanced sideways.
"On the ship?"
"Yeah."
Niero crossed his arms.
"Feels like you're stalking me."
Takeshi immediately barked out laughing.
Loudly.
Enough that one nearby security officer briefly glanced toward them.
"Kid, I have way better things to do than stalk some little boy like a creepy ex-girlfriend."
"That doesn't sound convincing."
"It's true."
Takeshi pointed toward him accusingly.
"Us meeting twice is a coincidence."
Niero gave him a long deadpan stare.
The kind that clearly communicated:
Bullshit.
Takeshi sighed dramatically.
"Okay, maybe not entirely coincidence."
"There it is."
The swordsman chuckled softly before finally answering properly.
"I'm assigned to this convoy."
That immediately caught Niero's attention.
Takeshi's expression became slightly more professional now.
Slightly.
"Officially?"
He held up one finger.
"Extra ship security."
Second finger.
"Unofficially?"
He glanced toward the endless fog ahead.
"Investigation assignment."
Niero frowned.
"Investigation?"
"West Port-City."
Takeshi's tone became calmer now.
"Specifically Dungeon Town."
-
That name immediately triggered memories from his mother's teachings.
Dungeons.
The Hollow's cancerous reality distortions.
Most were temporary.
Like bubbles forming and bursting against reality itself.
But some—
the worst ones—
became permanent.
Dungeon Towers.
Massive reality-anchor anomalies embedded directly into Earth like parasitic wounds.
Each one is unique.
Each one is dangerous.
Yet incredibly valuable.
Resources.
Artifacts.
Rare materials.
Ancient anomalous technology.
Mana crystals.
Biological specimens.
Entire economies formed around exploiting them.
Humanity didn't just survive the Dungeons anymore.
They harvested them.
And around these heavily fortified Dungeon Towers—
entire urban sectors emerged.
Dungeon Towns.
Part military zone.
Part research facility.
Part industrial sector.
Part black market.
Part death trap.
Niero remembered his mother once describing them as:
"Places where humanity got greedy enough to build cities around hell."
-
Takeshi continued quietly:
"West Port's Dungeon Town has been having… incidents."
Niero narrowed his eyes slightly.
"What kind of incidents?"
Takeshi scratched his cheek.
"That's the thing."
"Nobody's fully sure yet."
That answer bothered Niero immediately.
Because uncertainty from an Anti-Anomaly Agent usually meant the situation was bad.
Takeshi continued:
"Disappearances."
"Supply convoy attacks."
"Communication blackouts."
"Some weird activity around the lower sectors."
The wind howled again between them.
Even Takeshi seemed slightly more serious now.
"And recently…"
He tapped the railing lightly.
"Some scouting teams stopped reporting back."
Niero felt a faint tension settle in his chest.
Not fear exactly.
More like instinct.
Vuldyr spoke quietly inside his mind.
"Possibility of high-risk anomalous escalation detected."
Niero remained outwardly calm.
"So you're expecting trouble."
Takeshi smiled faintly.
Not his usual joking smile.
This one looked more tired.
"Kid."
He looked toward the fog-covered ocean.
"Out here? You should always expect trouble."
The freezing wind swept across the outer deck while the convoy continued cutting through the endless fog.
For a while—
neither of them spoke.
Only the low rumbling engines beneath the ship and the distant crashing of unseen waves against metal.
Niero finally broke the silence again.
"Why are you even telling me this?"
Takeshi glanced sideways.
"Hm?"
"The Dungeon Town stuff."
Niero narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Sounds classified."
Then after a brief pause—
"And why are you so interested in me anyway?"
The swordsman stayed quiet for a moment.
Surprisingly quiet.
Then he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"Honestly?"
"I dunno."
That answer immediately irritated Niero.
"That's not reassuring."
Takeshi chuckled softly.
"No, seriously."
He leaned against the railing again while staring out into the fog.
"I just got a strong gut feeling about you."
That made Niero internally tense again.
But Takeshi continued casually:
"Same feeling I got during Radiant Day last year."
He pointed lazily toward Niero.
"Potential."
Vuldyr remained cautious.
> ["Continue monitoring."]
Niero kept his expression neutral.
"You say that like you're recruiting a sports player."
"Pretty much."
Takeshi shrugged.
Then immediately ruined the atmosphere again.
"Either that, or the oysters I ate before meeting you are messing with my instincts."
Niero stared at him flatly.
"…which one is it?"
"I don't know."
"That's horrifying."
Takeshi laughed again.
But eventually—
his smile softened slightly.
More genuine this time.
"Look."
He tapped the metal railing lightly.
"The world's getting uglier out there."
The fog beyond the ship almost seemed to react to those words.
Heavy.
Silent.
Infinite.
"Monsters hide in the dark."
"Humanity survives because enough people stand between the dark and everyone else."
His tone remained calm.
But underneath it—
there was exhaustion.
Like someone who had seen far too much.
"So when people with talent show up…"
He glanced toward Niero again.
"You pay attention."
Niero listened silently.
Takeshi continued:
"Maybe it's selfish. Maybe it's survival instinct. But people like me?"
He lightly tapped the hilt of his mechanized katana.
"We keep looking for the next generation strong enough to carry the burden."
The wind howled across the deck again.
Then Takeshi spoke more quietly.
Almost absentmindedly.
"Even if we're just delaying the inevitable."
That line immediately caught Niero's attention.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
For once—
Takeshi didn't joke immediately.
He looked toward the distant fog-covered horizon.
"Ark-Cities are sanctuaries. Bright little islands."
Then he gestured outward toward the endless white void surrounding the convoy.
"But outside? Darkness."
The word lingered heavily.
"Humanity keeps the lights on so the island doesn't get swallowed."
Niero stayed silent.
Because despite how dramatic it sounded—
he understood exactly what Takeshi meant.
The Hollow.
The fog.
The anomalies.
The things humanity barely contained.
Takeshi exhaled slowly.
"Wishful thinking maybe…but I still hope people with potential—human, alien, male, female, whatever—can push things forward."
Then quietly:
"Maybe even... save the world... someday."
Niero felt oddly uncomfortable hearing that.
Because if Takeshi knew what he really was—
what the Stargod System truly represented—
would he still say that?
Or would he see Niero as another anomaly needing containment?
The thought lingered heavily in his mind.
Before Niero could ask another question—
a sudden loud rumbling sound interrupted the moment.
A deep, wet gurgling noise.
Both of them froze.
Niero slowly looked downward.
The sound came from Takeshi's stomach.
The swordsman grimaced immediately and clutched his abdomen.
"…Yeah."
He winced.
"That's definitely the oyster warfare in my guts."
Niero deadpanned instantly.
The moment Agent Takeshi Armitage started speed-walking away while clutching his stomach like a dying man, the entire serious atmosphere collapsed instantly.
"Put a pin on whatever questions you had, kid—"
He winced violently.
"—because I am losing a biological war right now."
Niero stared blankly.
"…You're unbelievable."
Takeshi pointed dramatically at him while continuing his desperate retreat toward the ship interior.
"We'll continue the referral stuff later."
"And hey—"
He gave a casual wave without looking back.
"Good luck with your academy life."
Another stomach gurgle interrupted him mid-sentence.
The swordsman visibly flinched.
"…Oh! That is BAD."
Then he quickly added:
"Also, good luck with your new friends."
"And your whole 'potential for greatness' thing."
"Try not to die before graduation."
And with that—
the feared Anti-Anomaly Agency swordsman vanished back inside the ship at nearly full sprint in search of the nearest bathroom.
Leaving Niero alone on the freezing outer deck.
Silence returned once more.
Only fog.
Ocean.
Wind.
And the distant engines of the convoy.
Niero slowly rubbed his forehead.
"…What the hell even was that conversation?"
Vuldyr answered calmly inside his mind.
> ["Conclusion: Agent Takeshi Armitage is an unusual individual."]
"That's putting it mildly."
Niero leaned against the railing again while staring into the endless fog surrounding the convoy ships.
But despite how ridiculous the interaction ended—
the information itself lingered heavily in his mind.
Dungeon Town.
Disappearing scouting teams.
Anomalies.
The Hollow is getting worse.
If Dungeon Towers truly contained powerful monsters and anomalous resources—
then theoretically—
they could become opportunities.
Places where he could hunt.
Level up.
Grow stronger.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Because even after all these months—
he was still stuck at Level 30.
Every breakthrough attempt had failed.
Violently.
The memory alone irritated him.
Blood in the sink.
Pain ripping through his body.
Energy backlash surging through his meridians like shattered glass.
One failed attempt aboard the ship had almost drawn unwanted attention after he coughed blood inside one of the bathrooms.
Thankfully, nobody questioned it beyond assuming seasickness.
Vuldyr spoke again.
> ["Recommendation remains unchanged. Avoid breakthrough attempts aboard this vessel."]
Niero mentally clicked his tongue.
"I know."
>["The rebound is too dangerous in confined civilian environments."]
"Again. I know..."
Vuldyr projected several translucent windows beside his vision.
His status.
Energy circulation pathways.
Stargod cultivation data.
> ["[Stargod System] currently lacks sufficient stabilization for Level 31 ascension. Probability of uncontrolled backlash remains high due to insufficient resonance and syncronization."]
Niero exhaled slowly through his nose.
Annoying.
He hated stagnation.
Especially when he could feel himself being close to another breakthrough.
Close—
yet blocked by some invisible wall.
Still…
Vuldyr was right.
Attempting advancement aboard a military convoy surrounded by security personnel, Psionics, Mana Casters, and possibly Priestesses was suicidal.
Especially if the breakthrough produced abnormal energy signatures.
Niero stepped back inside the ship, the sudden shift from freezing ocean wind to recycled warm air hitting him like a wall.
The hallway was louder than he expected.
Footsteps. Laughter. Distant shouting from another cabin block. The steady hum of a moving city trapped inside steel.
BDV Iron Convoy #15 didn't feel like a ship so much as a floating training camp trying very hard not to become a panic room.
He adjusted his jacket and started walking back toward Cabin C-12.
Vuldyr's voice echoed calmly in his mind, now layered with her more casual, human-like tone.
> ["Just so you know, the icebreaker activities are designed for social stabilization. Not only forming a familiarity between new canidate but also reduces psychological stress caused by prolonged confinement and uncertainty at sea."]
Niero gave a small grunt.
"So… forced group bonding."
> ["Quite."]
A pause.
Then Vuldyr added, slightly more pointed:
> ["And you require it more than most candidates."]
Niero immediately frowned.
"Excuse me?"
> ["Your behavioral profile indicates: high competence, low approachability, elevated delinquent response patterns, and a tendency to isolate. Something similar to an anti-social tendencies."]
He exhaled through his nose.
"So I'm just 'difficult to be around.'"
> ["Not difficult."]
Vuldyr corrected gently.
> ["Unintentionally intimidating."]
That landed more accurately—and slightly worse.
Niero clicked his tongue.
"That sounds like a nicer way of saying I look like I want to fight people."
> ["Correction: you do fight people."]
"Fair."
They walked past a group of laughing candidates spilling out of a recreation corridor. Someone had apparently turned a hallway panel into a makeshift card game table. Another group argued loudly about Metatalent rankings.
Vuldyr continued, quieter now.
> ["Your cabinmates are viable social anchors. JD. Flick. Bart."]
Niero sighed.
"One loud guy, one rich headache, and one human golden retriever."
> ["Classification is crass but not entriely inaccurate."]
That earned a faint smirk from him.
Still—
he didn't argue.
Because inconveniently, she was right.
Three years on this path meant constant proximity. Shared missions. Shared danger. Shared survival.
Avoiding them wouldn't make them disappear.
It would just make things harder later.
Vuldyr softened her tone slightly.
> ["If you do not form stable connections, you will compensate through isolation or conflict escalation. Plus, you need some allies in this dangerous world."]
Niero raised an eyebrow.
He let out a short laugh despite himself.
By the time he reached the cabin corridor, the ship gently rocked—barely noticeable, but constant. The fog outside remained invisible from here, but he knew it was there. Thick. Endless.
Something about it made the metal walls feel thinner than they should be.
=
=====
=
The ship hallways were still lively despite the late hour. Candidates wandered around in groups, staff moved between decks, and somewhere in the distance somebody was loudly losing an arcade game.
The faint smell of reheated cafeteria food drifted through the ventilation.
And beneath it—
sweet caramelized sugar.
Niero's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Salted caramel bread pudding…"
Vuldyr responded instantly.
> ["Your dopamine response elevated by 12%."]
"Don't analyze my dessert cravings."
He followed the smell toward the mess hall corridor, already imagining grabbing some snacks and hiding somewhere quiet for an hour.
Maybe a storage deck.
Maybe an empty observation lounge.
Anywhere peaceful.
Unfortunately—
the universe had other plans.
The moment Niero turned a corner near the mess hall entrance—
THUD.
He collided directly into somebody coming through the door from the opposite side.
"Ah—!"
The impact wasn't hard enough to hurt either of them, but it was enough to send a stack of papers, folders, and several laminated cards flying everywhere across the hallway floor.
Niero immediately stepped back.
"Sorry—"
He stopped mid-sentence upon seeing who he bumped into.
And apparently catastrophic for the other person involved.
"I-I'M SORRY—!"
A flustered voice practically squeaked out in panic.
Niero blinked once before finally focusing properly on the person in front of him.
A girl.
More specifically—
a tiger Beastfolk girl.
Orange, black, and white striped fur patterned softly around her face and neck, with fluffy tiger ears flattened in embarrassment atop her head. Her long hair was tied into braided twin-tails, and oversized round-rim glasses sat crookedly on her nose after the impact.
She wore an oversized cardigan over casual jeans, with a messenger bag hanging from her shoulder.
And she was currently descending into complete social annihilation.
"I-I wasn't looking where I was going and then the door opened and—"
She immediately crouched down.
"—Oh no, no, no, my stuff—!"
The hallway floor became littered with scattered contents.
Photos.
Trading cards.
Paper dossiers.
Printed articles.
Handwritten notes.
Color tabs.
Candies spilling from a small packet pouch.
It looked less like school supplies and more like someone's obsessive investigation board exploded.
Niero stared for a second.
Then mentally concluded:
Dork-ass weirdo.
But—
as she frantically scrambled around trying to gather everything while looking one step away from crying—
his internal assessment shifted slightly.
…Adorkable weirdo.
The girl tried grabbing several papers too quickly at once—
only to accidentally lean forward and bonk her forehead directly into Niero's jaw.
THUNK.
She froze completely.
So did he.
Then her face turned bright red beneath her fur.
"I'M SO SORRY—!"
Niero rubbed his jaw.
"…You just headbutted me."
"I DIDN'T MEAN TO—!"
She looked moments away from evaporating from embarrassment.
Niero sighed quietly before crouching down beside her.
"Relax."
He started helping gather the scattered contents.
"It was my fault too. I wasn't paying attention."
That seemed to calm her down by approximately three percent.
Which was still an improvement.
As he picked up the papers, he realized almost everything was related to Sororitaes.
Photos of famous Sororitaes.
Annotated dossiers.
Trading cards in plastic sleeves.
Printed combat reports.
Ability analyses.
Even personality observations written in tiny detailed handwriting.
One document near his hand read:
[Sifang — Mistress of Elements]
Observed combat tendencies: prefers wide-area battlefield control…
Potential emotional suppression beneath calm demeanor…
Blindness may enhance mana sensory perception…
Another contained statistical comparisons between various famous Sororitaes.
Another looked like an entire ranking chart.
Niero slowly raised an eyebrow.
"…Are you conducting academic research or running a fan cult?"
The tiger girl immediately grabbed the paper from his hand with a horrified squeak.
"I-IT'S NOT A CULT—!"
Niero stared at her.
She avoided eye contact immediately.
Yep.
Absolute dork.
The girl nervously adjusted her glasses while clutching the recovered documents protectively against her chest.
Her tail swished anxiously behind her cardigan.
"…I just really like Sororitaes…"
"Yeah. I can tell."
"…They're cool."
"Also obvious."
"…And inspiring."
"Mhm."
She looked away awkwardly.
"…And maybe I know all thirty-two active S-Rank Sororitaes by name…"
Niero blinked.
"…That's concerning."
"IT'S A HOBBY."
He couldn't help it.
A small snort escaped him.
That seemed to surprise her more than anything else.
Because she stared at him briefly like she didn't expect him to laugh.
"I had to admit it's pretty cute. " Niero casually praised her for her work.
The tiger Beastolk girl was red in the face from being casually called cute.
"C-c-cu-cute???"
Stammering in her words.
She immediately puffed her cheeks slightly.
"I-I'm not cute."
Niero raised an eyebrow.
"…No?"
She adjusted her oversized glasses with sudden determination.
"No."
Then she pointed at herself dramatically.
"I'm fierce."
Niero looked at her cardigan.
Pastel-colored.
Soft-looking.
Decorated with tiny stitched star patterns near the sleeves.
Then a messenger bag filled with Sororitae merchandise.
Then at her fluffy striped ears.
Then back at her.
"…How fierce?"
The question clearly activated something in her.
She straightened instantly.
Cleared her throat.
Then planted her feet apart dramatically, like a martial arts heroine from an old wuxia film.
"Ahem."
She raised both hands into claw-like poses.
"I am Lin Meihua."
A dramatic pause.
"You may call me Mei."
Another dramatic pause.
"From Sector 12."
Then she narrowed her eyes with exaggerated intensity.
"I am a fierce tiger Beastfolk."
She made clawing motions.
"The queen of the jungle."
Then—
"GAAAAOOOOOWWWWW."
The tiny roar echoed weakly through the hallway.
It was supposed to sound intimidating.
Instead—
it sounded like an aggressively adorable housecat demanding snacks at 3 AM.
Niero stared at her silently.
Mei held the pose proudly for about three seconds.
Then her confidence started crumbling under his gaze.
"…T-that was fierce."
"…Sure."
"…Very fierce."
"Absolutely terrifying."
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"You're making fun of me."
"Only a little."
Mei huffed softly.
But her tail swished happily anyway.
Now that he was actually paying attention, Niero noticed details he hadn't before.
Her orange-black-white fur looked incredibly fluffy.
Well groomed too.
And—
faint lavender scent.
Probably shampoo.
Combined with the oversized cardigan and nervous personality, she radiated the energy of someone who spent nights obsessively blogging about fictional power rankings while wrapped in blankets.
Which somehow—
weirdly—
reminded him of Pumpkin.
His family's fat orange tabby cat.
Specifically the part where Pumpkin demanded affection while pretending to be dignified.
The comparison surfaced in his mind so suddenly that his body reacted before his brain did.
That fluff...
Without thinking—
Niero reached out.
And scratched Mei gently under the chin.
Silence.
Mei froze completely.
Every strand of fur on her body visibly puffed slightly.
Her striped tail fluffed up.
Her glasses nearly slid down her nose again.
Niero's brain immediately caught up with reality.
…Oh no.
Because instead of recoiling—
Mei unconsciously leaned into his hand.
A soft rumbling vibration escaped her throat.
Prrrrrrrrr.
Niero froze too.
The tiger girl was—
purring.
Actually purring.
And rubbing lightly against his hand like an oversized affectionate cat.
Her eyes looked completely unfocused for a moment.
"…Mrrh…"
Vuldyr immediately materialized mentally with the emotional energy of someone watching peak entertainment.
> ["Remarkable."]
> "I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO THAT."
> ["Yet the feline response appears overwhelmingly positive."]
> "STOP ANALYZING IT."
Mei suddenly realized what she was doing.
Her eyes widened behind her glasses.
The purring stopped instantly.
She jumped backward so fast she nearly dropped her folders again.
"I-I-I—"
Her face became impossibly red.
Even her ears twitched violently in embarrassment.
"T-that was an involuntary biological response!"
Niero slowly lowered his hand.
"…You started purring."
"NO, I DIDN'T."
"…Mei."
"IT WAS TIGER SOUNDS."
"…Those were cat noises."
This only made Mei cover her burning face with both hands while her tail whipped around behind her in total embarrassment, on the verge of tears out of embarrassment, while running away from him.
"YOU JERK!!!" Mei ran away, clutching her Sororitas materials, leaving him alone at the ship's hallway once again.
Niero immediately burst out laughing.
Not mocking.
Genuine laughter.
And somehow—
despite threatening to die from shame—
she was smiling too.
=
Niero stood there for a second longer than necessary, still staring down the hallway where Mei had just sprinted away while muttering something that sounded like "jerk" and "uncultured brute" in the same breath.
The faint echo of her retreating footsteps faded.
So did the purring incident.
Unfortunately, Vuldyr did not let it die.
Her voice slid into his mind in a perfectly casual, almost amused tone—far too casual for something that had just witnessed his social downfall.
Niero sighed under his breath.
> "Don't start."
> ["I am merely observing," Vuldyr replied lightly. "You appear to have a consistent behavioral pattern."]
> "I don't have a pattern."
> ["You saw fluffy fur. You reached out. You initiated physical contact."]
> "That was not "initiation," that was—she was right there and I was just—"
> ["And then you scratched under the chin."]
A pause.
Then, with unmistakable amusement:
> ["Like Pumpkin."]
Niero froze.
> "…Don't compare her to that fatass cat."
> ["Yet you pet her while thinking about that cat."]
He rubbed his temple.
> "It's not the same thing."
> ["Correct,"] Vuldyr agreed. ["Pumpkin is a domestic feline with a documented behavioral history of manipulation via cuteness."]
> "That cat is a criminal."
> ["Mei Lin appears to share several overlapping traits."]
Niero exhaled slowly.
> "She is not a cat."
> ["Debatable."]
He started walking again, heading back toward the cabin corridor, trying to regain something resembling dignity.
That lasted about three seconds.
Because Vuldyr, now clearly enjoying herself, added:
> ["Though I must say, your approach was… unconventional."]
> "What approach?"
> ["The 'accidental petting of a Beastfolk girl' approach."]
Niero's ears went slightly red.
> "It wasn't an approach."
> ["Hm."]
A beat.
Then, gently sharpened.
> ["Should I begin cataloging this as a 'bad boy social strategy' subtype?"]
Niero stopped walking.
> "Excuse me?"
Vuldyr's tone remained sweetly calm.
> ["It aligns with certain behavioral archetypes observed in interpersonal bonding: unpredictable action, followed by denial of intent, followed by emotional escalation."]
> "That sounds like nonsense."
> ["Yet there is results."]
> "It nothing."
> ["She purredlike a kitty cat."]
> "She DID NOT— okay she did, but that doesn't mean anything."
Vuldyr's voice softened into something dangerously close to teasing affection.
> ["Of course."]
A pause.
Then she delivered the final hit:
> ["Still, I will note: you reacted faster to her fur than to most hostile psionic anomalies."]
Niero groaned out loud this time.
> "Why are you like this."
> ["Because you are damn funny to observe."]
He resumed walking, faster now.
> "You're enjoying this too much."
> ["What makes you think that?"] Vuldyr answered mischiviously.
A brief silence.
Then Vuldyr added, almost thoughtfully:
> ["Also…"]
> "What now."
> ["If you ever attempt to put a collar on anyone, I will assume your moral development has regressed beyond acceptable parameters."]
Niero nearly choked on air.
> "I WASN'T GOING TO DO THAT."
Niero was still trying—and failing—to defend himself from Vuldyr's relentless teasing.
> "It was reflexive."
> ["You scratched her under the chin."]
> "Because she looked fluffy."
> ["An explanation that somehow raises more concerns."]
Vuldyr laughed again inside his mind, warm and human-like rather than robotic.
Not synthetic.
Not artificial.
Just genuinely amused.
> ["And your face temperature is still elevated."]
> "Shut up."
> ["Your embarrassment response remains statistically entertaining—"]
Then—
silence.
Abrupt.
Total.
Niero immediately felt his stomach drop.
Because Vuldyr stopping mid-laugh like that—
was bad.
Very bad.
He slowed his walking.
> "…Vuldyr?"
No response for a second.
Then her voice returned.
Calm.
Too calm.
> ["Something is wrong."]
The joking tone was gone.
Niero's expression hardened instantly.
Cold prickles crawled across the back of his neck.
> "What happened?"
A faint, translucent interface flickered briefly at the edge of his vision as Vuldyr processed information through the Stargod System.
> ["My mapping subsystem is detecting a disturbance."]
> "What kind of disturbance?"
A pause.
> ["Unknown."]
That answer alone made his skin tighten.
> "Where is it coming from?"
> ["I… cannot determine an exact point."]
Now that was worse.
Far worse.
Vuldyr continued:
> ["Whatever it is… it is moving."]
Niero stopped completely in the hallway.
Around him, ship personnel and candidates continued walking casually through the metallic corridor, completely unaware.
Some laughed.
Some chatted.
Some carried trays from the mess hall.
Normal.
Everything looked normal.
Yet suddenly the hallway felt colder.
Tighter.
Like something unseen had entered the ship.
> "Moving where?"
Vuldyr's tone lowered.
> ["Around us."]
A chill slid down Niero's spine.
> ["Circulating throughout the vessel."]
His instincts immediately screamed danger.
Not ordinary danger.
Something wrong.
Something that didn't belong.
Even the ambient noises of the ship seemed strangely distant now—the hum of machinery, muffled footsteps, distant chatter.
Niero subtly flexed his fingers.
> "Could it just be sea life?"
> ["Possible."]
A pause.
> ["But highly unlikely."]
That was enough.
Niero's eyes sharpened.
> "Run a full sweep."
> ["Already preparing."]
> "Use Golden Eye. Full appraisal scan. Multi-spectrum. Thermal, psionic, mana signatures—everything."
Vuldyr instantly complied.
The faint golden shimmer of the hidden appraisal system activated behind his eyes.
For a brief moment—
the world changed.
The corridor became layered in overlapping spectral data.
Mana residue.
Heat signatures behind walls.
Electrical currents flowing through the ship.
Heartbeats.
Psionic traces from nearby candidates.
The ship itself became transparent in fragmented wireframe overlays.
Vuldyr's processing speed accelerated rapidly.
> ["Scanning…"]
Niero slowly resumed walking, trying not to look suspicious.
His heartbeat remained controlled.
But internally—
every instinct was preparing for violence.
A passing candidate bumped shoulders with him accidentally and apologized.
Niero barely heard him.
Because the Golden Eye's sweep was expanding wider now.
Through corridors.
Decks.
Cargo sections.
Ventilation systems.
Outer hull readings.
Oceanic distortion patterns beyond the ship.
Then—
something circling the ship.
Not one.
Several.
Faint.
Fast.
Unstable.
Vuldyr's voice became tense.
> ["The Golden Eye appraisal is insufficient for complete identification at your current Stargod Level."]
Another cluster of warning symbols appeared across the map.
Then—
the ocean beneath the ship lit up with movement.
Huge movement.
Niero's pupils shrank.
Something was down there.
Deep below the vessel.
Moving upward.
Fast.
Too fast.
The warning systems of the Stargod System suddenly erupted inside his mind.
> [WARNING: HIGH-SPEED APPROACH DETECTED]
> [TRAJECTORY INTERCEPT: BDV IRON CONVOY #15]
> [IMPACT IMMINENT]
Vuldyr shouted—
actually shouted—
inside his mind.
> ["NIERO— BRACE FOR IMPACT!!!!"]
He barely had time to tense his body.
BOOOOOM.
The side of the ship exploded inward with violent force.
The entire vessel lurched sideways like a toy struck by a truck.
Metal screamed.
Pipes ruptured.
People shrieked.
Niero was launched across the hallway instantly.
His body slammed hard against the steel wall before tumbling violently across the floor like a ragdoll.
The world spun.
His ears rang painfully.
For half a second—
everything became noise and flashing red lights.
Then came the emergency alarms.
A deafening siren roared throughout the ship.
Red warning lights flooded the corridors.
The intercom crackled violently with static.
Then—
a distorted sound echoed through it.
Something between a whale cry…
and an inhuman scream.
The noise vibrated unnaturally through the metal walls.
Candidates immediately panicked.
Some screamed.
Others ran blindly through the hallway.
A few froze entirely.
Niero groaned painfully, trying to push himself upright.
His head throbbed violently.
Warm blood trickled slightly from near his hairline.
The ringing in his ears distorted the chaos around him.
Then suddenly—
a hand grabbed his arm hard.
A female soldier in combat gear yanked him up with practiced force.
"MOVE!"
Her expression was completely serious now.
No orientation smile.
No calm professionalism.
Pure military urgency.
"Candidate, follow me to the designated emergency shelter immediately!"
Another violent tremor shook the ship.
The lights flickered.
Somewhere deeper in the vessel—
metal buckled loudly.
Niero steadied himself against the wall.
"ON YOUR FEET, CADET! THIS WAY!" said the female soldier while pulling his arm.
He couldn't ask immediately but began to run with her, following her to wherever he was supposed to be right now.
=
The inside of the BDV Iron Convoy #15 had transformed into chaos.
Emergency sirens screamed endlessly.
The ship shook so violently that the overhead lights flickered between crimson warning glow and total darkness.
Somewhere outside—
the ship's defensive weapons opened fire.
BRRRRRRRRTTTT—
The deafening roar of Phalanx-style auto-miniguns thundered through the hull.
Heavy rotary cannons followed.
Missile launchers.
The metallic vibration of the entire ship groaned beneath the assault.
And beneath all of it—
the endless crashing of dark ocean waves against steel.
Niero ran beside the female soldier through the corridor while trying not to lose balance.
The hallway looked nothing like it had minutes ago.
Bullet holes riddled the walls.
Emergency shutters partially jammed.
Blood smeared across the floor.
One section of the hull had been pierced clean through by a massive harpoon-like projectile embedded deep into the metal.
The sight alone made Niero's instincts scream.
What the hell attacked this ship…?
Then she spoke into her comms headset rapidly.
"Deck C corridor compromised—possible hull strike and onboard attacks—civilian candidates in motion toward shelter sectors!!!"
Then the female soldier turned to him.
"Safe room is across the next hall—keep mov—"
She turned the T-junction first.
Then—
THUNK.
Niero barely processed it.
Something shot across the hallway so fast it became a blur.
The projectile slammed into the soldier's torso with horrifying force.
Her body violently jerked sideways—
then pinned against the opposite hull wall.
A long harpoon-like spear had pierced completely through her chest.
Blood splattered across the metal.
Her rifle clattered to the ground.
Dead instantly.
Niero's breath caught in his throat.
His body moved on instinct.
He dropped low immediately and slid onto his knees behind cover just as another metallic impact slammed somewhere nearby.
The ringing in his ears intensified.
His pulse hammered violently.
The woman—
the soldier escorting him—
was dead in less than a second.
Vuldyr's voice snapped sharply inside his head.
> ["HIDE."]
Niero immediately obeyed.
He slipped behind a damaged cabin doorway hanging partially off its hinges.
Every muscle in his body locked tight.
Then—
he heard it.
Wet footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Accompanied by an awful gurgling sound.
Like water trapped in ruined lungs.
Step.
Drip.
Step.
Grrrk.
Something approached the corpse.
Niero carefully peeked with one eye through the gap.
And saw it.
His stomach tightened instantly.
The thing looked vaguely humanoid.
But only vaguely.
It resembled a deep-sea diver—or perhaps an old military frogman—
if someone had drowned it, left it rotting in the abyss, and then rebuilt it from coral, oil, cables, and nightmares.
A scuba-like apparatus covered its face.
Except—
the mask looked fused into flesh.
Organic.
Breathing wetly.
Its body was wrapped in a black-and-dark navy suit that looked less like clothing and more like hardened skin.
Bones protruded from parts of its shoulders and ribs.
Coral growths erupted across its limbs like tumors.
Black oil-like substance coated parts of its body in glossy strands, stretching and twitching unnaturally between armor-like sections.
Not liquid.
Not flesh.
Something in-between.
The creature held a harpoon-speargun resembling a brutal crossbow merged with industrial diving equipment.
Water dripped from the weapon.
Its movements were jerky—
yet disturbingly purposeful.
Like a trained soldier adapting to an inhuman body.
The creature stopped near the dead soldier.
Tilted its head.
The scuba mask emitted distorted bubbling noises.
The creature lingered over the fallen soldier.
Not quite checking for life.
Not quite finishing the kill.
More like… testing the body.
The harpoon-speargun nudged the corpse once.
Twice.
A wet, gurgling sound leaked from the mask as if it was "thinking" in broken air bubbles.
Then it shifted slightly—
like it had already lost interest.
Vuldyr's voice cut through Niero's mind, sharper now.
> ["Scanning complete."]
Golden Eye overlay snapped into clarity for a fraction of a second.
Data resolved.
-
<[ GOLDEN EYE: ENTITY IDENTIFIED ]>
> Designation: Scuba-Scum
> RANK: E
> FACTION: Black Tide (Hostile Oceanic Entities)
> CLASSIFICATION: Expandable Unit
> OVERVIEW: Black Tide's expandable soldiers, designed to opperate both land and water to uphold the Black Tide's command. Appears to be a humanoid entity that looks like a deep-sea diver with its equipments fused to its rotting bodies, reinforced by the viscious oil-like black liquid flow around its veins and bodies. Due to its high pain threshold, it can take on heavy punishment until it can't move anymore if strike at its vital points.
> Main Equipments: Harpoon-Crossbow, Aqua Bombs
-
A faint schematic appeared over the creature's form.
Low-grade biomechanical construct.
Minimal intelligence.
High pain tolerance.
Swarm-tier soldier.
Meant to die in large numbers.
Niero's eyes narrowed slightly behind cover.
"Rank E…? That thing killed her in one shot."
Vuldyr responded immediately.
> ["It is still classified as human-equivalent combat strength."]
That didn't help.
The creature jabbed the corpse again, more lazily now, like it was confirming something.
Then it began dragging the body away across the blood-slick floor, leaving a wet trail behind it.
Niero's mind flickered back to what his mother had once said.
Black Tide.
A deep-sea hostile faction.
Biological-mechanical hybrids.
Shipwreck matter fused with living organisms.
Things that didn't belong in normal ocean ecosystems.
Things that shouldn't be able to reach a convoy like this.
His jaw tightened.
So this is Black Tide…
But then Vuldyr spoke again.
And her tone changed.
Subtle.
But wrong in a different way.
> ["There is a discrepancy."]
Niero didn't move.
> "What kind of discrepancy?"
A brief pause as more scanning data streamed through.
Then:
> ["ArkNet classification data for Black Tide exists. Astra Codex entries exist. Historical engagement records exist."]
Another pause.
The creature dragged the corpse further away, disappearing partially behind broken corridor plating.
> ["They should not be capable of suppressing Golden Eye detection, let alone at Rank E."]
That made Niero's stomach tighten.
> "So what are you saying?"
Vuldyr's voice lowered.
> ["Someone else entirely is interfering."]
Silence hit harder than the alarms.
Even the ship's distant gunfire seemed momentarily farther away.
Niero's eyes slowly shifted to the damaged corridor beyond the creature's path.
Something about the air felt… wrong.
Not just danger.
Cover-up danger.
Deliberate.
Engineered.
Vuldyr continued, more precise now:
> ["Either the Black Tide has evolved beyond recorded parameters…"]
A pause.
> ["Or something else entirely is actively masking them."]
The implication settled like ice.
Niero exhaled slowly through his nose, keeping his body still behind cover.
Outside, the Scuba-Scum continued dragging the body away, unconcerned, as if the hallway belonged to it.
Vuldyr added quietly:
> ["If the latter is true…"]
She stopped.
Then finished:
> ["Then this boarding incident was not an unlucky ambush."]
A distant explosion rocked the ship again.
Lights flickered red.
And somewhere deeper in the vessel—
another wet, distorted call echoed through the hull.
Closer than before.
Vuldyr's voice remained controlled despite the chaos around them.
> ["Yet. You are capable of killing them."]
Niero stayed low behind the damaged doorway while the Scuba-Scum continued dragging the corpse through the corridor.
> ["But combat is not the optimal decision,"] Vuldyr continued. ["Your current priority should be regrouping with survivors and locating secure personnel."]
Niero slowly backed away on instinct, keeping low to the ground.
Every movement is careful.
Every breath measured.
The emergency alarms screamed overhead while distant cannon fire rattled through the hull.
The ship shook again.
He shifted his foot—
CRUNCH.
The aluminum soda can beneath his shoe collapsed loudly.
The sound echoed far too clearly in the corridor.
Niero froze instantly.
The Scuba-Scum stopped moving.
Slowly—
its scuba-mask head rotated toward him.
A low, bubbling growl escaped from the breathing apparatus.
Black oily fluid dripped from the coral-covered armor along its shoulders.
Niero's pulse spiked.
…Great.
The creature released the corpse immediately.
Then it began walking toward his hiding spot.
Wet footsteps.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Its harpoon-crossbow raised slightly.
Vuldyr reacted quickly.
> ["Do not panic."]
> "Easy for you to say."
> ["Its combat capability remains within manageable parameters."]
Niero's eyes sharpened.
> "Compared to the Orkoid Goblins?"
> ["Physically stronger overall than average goblin variants,"] Vuldyr answered immediately. ["However, goblins possess greater speed and erratic movement patterns."]
The Scuba-Scum drew closer.
Closer.
> ["You possess overwhelming physical superiority against this target."]
Niero slowly reached behind his waist.
Fingers wrapped around the grip of the karambit.
[Purple Fang].
His mother's blade.
The creature rounded the corner.
The distorted scuba mask is facing directly toward him now.
Its weapon lifted.
Vuldyr spoke one final time.
> ["Attack vital points. Go for it's neck"]
The moment the Scuba-Scum stepped into range—
Niero exploded forward.
BOOM.
The steel floor dented slightly beneath the force of his acceleration.
The Scuba-Scum barely reacted before Niero vanished from its direct line of sight.
He dashed diagonally upward along the hallway corner with superhuman burst speed—
then launched himself forward.
The karambit flashed once.
A clean purple arc.
SHHK.
Niero landed in a crouched skid several meters behind the creature.
Silence.
For one second—
nothing happened.
Then the Scuba-Scum's head slid cleanly from its shoulders.
The severed scuba mask hit the floor and rolled to a stop directly in front of Niero.
Its body remained standing briefly—
before collapsing heavily onto the metal floor.
Black blood sprayed violently across the corridor walls.
The harpoon-crossbow clattered away.
Niero's breathing remained steady.
Controlled.
The strike had been swift.
Effortless.
The result of nearly a year of brutal conditioning, combat drills, Ego-Space training, and surviving against creatures far deadlier than this.
Even he felt it.
The terrifying smoothness of the kill.
Vuldyr observed quietly:
> ["Target eliminated. A swift kill."]
The karambit spun once in Niero's hand before he tightened his grip.
Black blood dripped from the hooked blade.
Niero stared silently at the corpse.
Then finally muttered:
"…Okay."
A beat.
"That was kinda insane."
Vuldyr sounded faintly amused again despite the situation.
> ["Your confidence levels have increased by approximately thirty percent."]
> "I literally decapitated a sea zombie."
> ["True."]
Another distant explosion rocked the ship.
The lights flickered again.
Then—
Vuldyr's tone sharpened instantly.
> ["Head's up. Additional movement detected."]
The Golden Eye map pulsed.
Multiple signatures.
Closing in.
Fast.
From deeper within the ship corridors.
Black blood slowly dripped from the curved edge of [Purple Fang].
The severed Scuba-Scum head rested upside down on the metal floor, its fused scuba-mask still making faint bubbling noises as residual nerves twitched.
Niero's chest rose steadily.
No panic.
Just adrenaline.
And focus.
Golden overlays flickered across his vision again as he mentally commanded:
> "Vuldyr, keep scanning. Update everything."
> ["Already processing."]
The holographic ship map rapidly expanded in his vision.
Now that the interference around the nearby Scuba-Scum had partially collapsed after the kill, the [Golden Eye] appraisal system began adapting.
New red markers appeared across multiple decks.
Moving signatures.
Humanoid.
Wet.
Hostile.
Vuldyr's voice sharpened with efficiency.
> ["Mapping synchronization improving."]
Another pulse.
More entities appeared.
> ["Rank-E Scuba-Scum signatures detected throughout the vessel."]
The ship blueprint zoomed slightly.
Multiple clusters.
Some near-breached hull sections.
Others are deeper inside maintenance corridors.
A few dangerously close to civilian candidate zones.
Then—
five red markers suddenly accelerated toward his position.
Fast.
Through the adjacent hallway.
> ["Five hostiles approaching your location."]
Niero tightened his grip on the karambit.
The distant sound of distorted gurgling echoed closer now.
But before moving—
he looked back.
The female soldier still hung pinned against the wall by the harpoon.
Blood stained the corridor beneath her boots.
Her rifle remained where it had fallen.
Niero's expression darkened slightly.
…I could've saved her.
For a brief moment, despite everything—
despite the chaos—
he genuinely believed it.
If he reacted faster.
If he knew sooner.
If he had stronger detection.
Maybe—
Vuldyr interrupted gently.
Not cold.
Not mechanical.
Calm.
Human.
> ["No."]
Niero remained silent.
Vuldyr continued:
> ["This boarding assault was concealed through anomalous interference."]
The Golden Eye overlays flickered with static distortion again as if proving her point.
> ["Something aboard this vessel suppressed not only the ship's sensors and ArkNet systems…"]
Another static pulse crossed his vision.
> ["…but also interfered with your appraisal abilities."]
The implication settled heavily.
Vuldyr's tone softened slightly.
> ["You entered a battlefield with incomplete information."]
The distant sounds of wet footsteps grew louder.
Closer.
> ["Her death is not on your hands."]
Niero clenched his jaw quietly.
The words helped.
A little.
But not enough to erase the image of the soldier getting pinned to the wall in front of him.
The first real death he had witnessed this close.
Not training.
Not simulations.
Not Ego-Space monsters.
A person.
Someone trying to protect him.
Another explosion rocked the ship violently.
The hallway lights flickered again.
Then the first of the incoming Scuba-Scum rounded the far corner.
Distorted scuba-mask.
Coral-covered body.
Harpoon weapon raised.
Behind it—
more shapes emerged from the crimson-lit corridor.
Five in total.
Moving like hunting predators.
Vuldyr's voice became razor-focused.
> ["Combat recommendation?"]
Niero slowly rolled his shoulder once.
Then spun the bloodied karambit in his grip.
His eyes sharpened.
"Let's see if all that training was worth the pain."
The five Scuba-Scum rushed into view almost simultaneously.
Their distorted scuba-mask faces locked onto Niero instantly.
Then—
THUNK.
THUNK.
THUNK-THUNK-THUNK.
Five harpoon bolts launched down the corridor at lethal speed.
But to Niero—
they looked slow.
Painfully slow.
His body moved on pure instinct sharpened by months of brutal training.
He twisted sideways.
One harpoon slammed into the wall behind him.
Another narrowly passed his shoulder.
The third he ducked beneath entirely.
Then he exploded forward.
BOOM.
The steel flooring dented beneath the force of his dash.
The first Scuba-Scum barely raised its weapon before Niero flashed past it.
SHHK.
Its head separated cleanly.
Black oil-like blood sprayed across the ceiling.
The second creature lunged—
too late.
Niero pivoted low and carved upward diagonally.
SHRKK.
Head gone.
The third attempted to backpedal while raising its harpoon rifle again.
Niero grabbed its arm mid-motion and used its own momentum against it before slicing through its neck.
The fourth and fifth creatures finally reacted together—
but Niero was already inside their firing range.
A blur.
A violent purple arc from [Purple Fang].
Two heads dropped almost simultaneously.
THUD.
THUD.
Five bodies collapsed across the corridor.
Black blood sprayed everywhere—
walls.
Floor.
Emergency lights.
Even across Niero's clothes and face.
The oily substance steamed faintly against the metallic flooring.
Silence followed for half a second.
Then the distant ship alarms returned to awareness again.
Niero exhaled sharply.
His heartbeat thundered with adrenaline now.
Not fear anymore.
Combat rhythm.
Even he realized how horrifyingly efficient he had become.
Vuldyr immediately resumed tactical analysis.
> ["Combat performance exceeded the projected baseline."]
Niero ignored the compliment while wiping black blood from his cheek.
His eyes narrowed.
> "…This attack wasn't random."
The ship shook violently again.
Somewhere outside, another missile launcher fired.
Vuldyr processed rapidly.
> ["Agreed."]
A holographic tactical overlay appeared again over the ship map.
Enemy clusters.
Breached sectors.
Blocked routes.
Civilian concentration zones.
Then several pathways were highlighted in red.
Niero immediately recognized the pattern.
His mother had drilled these concepts into him countless times during training.
Old military doctrine.
Control movement.
Separate survivors.
Break communications.
Prevent regrouping.
Kill in isolated pockets.
His eyes sharpened.
> "Choke-point ambush."
> ["Correct."]
Vuldyr zoomed the map outward further.
More static distortion pulsed through certain sections of the vessel.
Areas where the Golden Eye became unstable.
Areas where ship systems were partially blind.
Niero's stomach tightened.
> "Something is coordinating this. Something else in power."
> ["Highly probable."]
The realization hit hard.
These things were not merely mindless sea mutants attacking randomly.
Someone—or something—had deliberately isolated the convoy.
Sensor suppression.
ArkNet disruption.
Targeted boarding points.
Communication collapse.
The Black Tide was herding the ships like prey.
Niero immediately spoke:
> "Vuldyr. Find the source."
> ["Clarify."]
> "Whatever's isolating us. Whatever's blocking detection. I want everything you can get."
Golden overlays intensified again around his vision.
> "Trace signal distortions. Mana anomalies. Psionic interference. Anything abnormal."
Vuldyr immediately accelerated processing.
> ["Understood."]
More scan pulses spread through the ship schematics.
But the interference pushed back strangely—
like static resisting observation itself.
Niero tightened his grip on [Purple Fang].
> "Because if this keeps going…"
A distant scream echoed somewhere deeper in the ship.
Then sudden gunfire.
Then silence.
His expression hardened completely.
> "…people are going to die...including...US."
The corridor stayed quiet for only a few seconds.
Then the ship's alarms surged again—like the vessel itself was refusing to let silence exist.
Niero exhaled slowly, shoulders still tense from combat.
Black oil-blood dripped from his clothes onto the metal floor, mixing with seawater that seeped in through distant hull breaches.
Vuldyr's voice came in calmly, already shifting from combat to optimization.
> ["Recommendation: utilize Boon [Beastmaster: Hungry Maw] to process remains."]
Niero frowned slightly.
> "On the bodies?"
> ["Correct. Potential salvage includes Omnia Matter, weaponry, and biological residue that may assist analysis."]
A pause.
Then, more practically:
> ["Leaving them intact risks reuse by Black Tide recovery units or environmental regeneration processes."]
Niero clicked his tongue softly.
> "…Fine. Let's do it."
He then mentally commanded the Stargod System's ability roster, specifically [Hungry Maw].
Not hesitation.
Just discomfort.
The floor beneath the Scuba-Scum corpses suddenly reacted.
As if reality itself didn't want to cooperate.
Then—
it split.
Six enormous disembodied mouths erupted from the steel surface beneath each corpse.
They were not normal constructs.
Each one looked disturbingly human-like in shape at first glance—
until the details registered.
Too many teeth layers.
Too deep a throat cavity.
Hands—multiple sets, both human-like and inhuman—pushing outward from within the fleshy darkness, grasping, pulling.
The ship's metal floor seemed to melt into lips, forming a grotesque ring of living geometry.
The mouths opened wider.
And swallowed.
One by one, the Scuba-Scum bodies were dragged down.
The harpoon weapons scraped briefly against the teeth—
then vanished entirely as the mouths closed.
A wet, grinding gulp echoed through the corridor.
Then—
silence.
Niero stood still for a moment.
Even after all the combat, even after decapitations and blood spray—
this felt different.
Less like fighting.
More like the world briefly turning into something else entirely.
He exhaled through his nose.
> "…yeaaahh. That's going to take getting used to."
Vuldyr, unusually gentle:
> ["Psychological discomfort is expected during initial Boon integration. Especially new and uniquely powerful boons."]
The mouths receded back into the floor like nothing had ever happened.
Only black residue and faint Omnia shimmer particles remained.
A small cluster of loot icons appeared in Niero's Golden Eye overlay:
> + Omnia Matter x27
> + Unknown Black Blood Vials ×5 (anomalous biological sample)
> + Black Tide's Harpoon-Crossbow Rifles ×5
> + Harpoon Ammunition, x23
Niero crouched and inspected one of the rifles briefly, keeping alert for movement down the corridor.
Then his expression shifted slightly.
> "No EXP?"
Vuldyr answered immediately.
> ["Correct. You have reached the cap threshold for Level 30."]
A brief pause.
> ["Further progression requires a breakthrough event."]
Niero clicked his tongue.
> "Right. That thing."
The wall of stagnation he had already hit in training.
The rebound.
The near blood-cough incident.
No clean path upward anymore—just pressure buildup until something forced evolution.
Vuldyr added:
> ["EXP accumulation is not stored beyond threshold. System does not permit overflow storage."]
Niero straightened up slowly, rolling his shoulders once.
The corridor ahead was still unstable—alarms, distant gunfire, shifting ship structure.
Somewhere deeper inside the vessel, the source of the interference was still active.
Still hiding.
Still coordinating.
He tightened his grip on [Purple Fang].
> "So leveling up isn't going to save me right now."
> ["Unfortunately, yes."]
A beat.
Then Vuldyr:
> ["Survival will depend on identifying the interference source and restoring system visibility."]
Niero exhaled once, steady.
His gaze lifted toward the dark, shaking corridor ahead.
> "Then we move."
The Golden Eye map flickered.
Static still crawled across certain zones like something alive.
But now—
he had weapons.
He had data.
And more importantly—
he had confirmed something was controlling the battlefield itself.
Niero stepped forward into the corridor.
Carefully.
Listening.
Ready for the next contact.
=
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=
<<<[ < QUEST > STARGOD SYSTEM: EMPYREAN RELIQUARY]>>>
> [ Quest: Beastmaster - Devour Your First 100 ]
> Task:Rend. Slaughter. Devour. Use [Hungry Maw] x100 to consume and breakdown objects and/or enemies
> Tracking:005/100 (+5)
-
<<<[ LOOT COLLECTED ]>>>
> + Omnia Matter x27
> + Unknown Black Blood Vials ×5 (anomalous biological sample)
> + Black Tide's Harpoon-Crossbow Rifles ×5
> + Harpoon Ammunition, x23
=
=====
=
<<<[ Ch 29, Part 02 - END ]>>>