< 169. Hate to Hate (7) >
"What kind of creatures are those? Show me."
As obvious as it is, the material realm—this universe—is unimaginably vast. In fact, it's constantly expanding even at this very moment.
If only one intelligent species existed in such an expansive world, it would be an excessive waste of space. However, since all alien civilizations discovered by their kind so far have been at a very immature level, they had decided not to reveal their existence. They had agreed that reaching out indiscriminately could be considered an act of violence. One must not deprive others of their chance.
They were worthy of walking this far on their own strength.
Moreover, excessive disparity could lead to exploitation instead of coexistence. Even if there were no such intention now, it's hard to predict what might happen later. Overwhelming superiority can evoke pity for the inferior, but sometimes it can dull that very pity.
And as time in insensitivity lengthens, instead of achieving harmony, it may lead to ruthless dominance. Like oil that doesn't mix with water but spreads beneath it.
After repeated similar discoveries, they had concluded that there were no species similar to themselves. If there had been, they would have started exploring from their side and met halfway. Instead of barbaric invasion wars, they would have hoped for peaceful cultural exchanges. Discovering more similarly primitive intelligences was a waste of time, so exploration of the cosmic frontier was halted.
But even now, new species are sometimes encountered in unexpected ways. Those who had never drawn attention before.
"Hm, that's..."
He frowned.
"They're definitely intelligent beings, no matter how you look at it."
The creatures invading the planet of the experiment subjects were, as reported, enormous.
Though only three entities had swum through space, their presence was overwhelming. They moved separately rather than staying together, patrolling different parts of the planet as if observing it. Their shadows stretched all the way to the horizon, covering everything.
And wherever they went...
---!
Primitive mammals gathered and cried out in a frenzied manner.
These were the descendants of the experiment subjects released on the planet.
There were quite a few of them. They had somehow increased in number without becoming extinct. Their terrified eyes reflected the unreal flying objects.
The entities descending from the sky looked like floating islands. Instead of oceans, the coastlines met the void, filled with sharp and densely packed fjords. Their outlines extended in all directions and then sharply tapered off repeatedly. The bodies, resembling simple abstractions of scattered luminescent objects, constantly wriggled and swayed.
Tentacles comparable to mountain ranges.
In the center of them was a colossal body, watching over the land with jet-black eyes.
The experiment subjects who met the giant monsters trembled. Eventually, they knelt and lay down. The intent was clear: when faced with incomprehensible fear, rather than trying to understand it, they chose to worship it.
"Uuu! Uuu!"
They sang praises to the divine beings descending from the stars. Similar events occurred on each land reached by the three tentacled monsters.
The reaction of the invading species was...
"Look there. Doesn't that look like writing?"
The tentacled creatures were so far apart that they couldn't see each other visually. It seemed they had a communication method for such occasions. Complex signals crossed the planet. These signals carried clear meanings and exchanged information between the monsters.
A form of remote discussion.
"Uuu! Uuu!"
Meanwhile, the experiment subjects on the ground had already started making fires, performing rituals, and even constructing makeshift temples. Each in their own way tried their best to show their respect. To the great beings descended from the stars.
The giant creatures, breaking through the clouds, silently looked down on the commotion.
Whoosh!
"Ah, those bastards?!"
It seemed they had reached a conclusion.
The attack began with a tentacle that had stayed in the northern continent. It lifted one of its twenty or so soft tissues. The movement was like a mountain range stretching and yawning. With its body part raised, the monster decisively struck it down again.
The ground was torn apart.
The movement ignored the laws of physics. It was astonishing that such a massive body could maintain its form, let alone wield it? There must be tremendous resistance. Yet, instead of bursting into the air, the tentacle scraped sharply across the land.
The cradle of primitive civilization shook. The experiment subjects' residences were swept away by waves of debris. The ground, split open and spewing blood, vomited out sediment layers accumulated over centuries. The experiment subjects were swept away like dust and died helplessly. The deaths of those small creatures appeared as mere trivial byproducts of a natural disaster.
Watching the recorded video, the woman explained.
"The size difference is so great that their speed is relatively slow."
With a 6,000-fold difference, it's like a mammal facing a water flea.
While a horrific slaughter unfolded across the planet, the experiment subjects had not yet become extinct. Although somewhat slow, from the perspective of the victims, it was still a threatening speed. Given the size difference, ordinary animals would be hard to see, but the tentacled monsters seemed to see them very well.
"What's their purpose? It doesn't seem like they're trying to eat them."
"We interpreted the signals they exchanged... although the time was short, it seems to be some form of hostility rather than anything else."
He felt a headache.
Roughly interpreting the messages exchanged by the monsters, it seemed to convey this nuance.
Is it there too? It's swarming here. Too many.
Seeing it makes me sick. I feel nauseous. Should we just kill whatever we see?
Ugh, disgusting. How many are there on this planet?
A species doesn't necessarily need grand narratives or logical judgments to despise another.
Sometimes, it's simply because they find it repulsive.
Instinctive rejection of the unfamiliar.
"Have they never seen mammals before?"
"Yes. Perhaps due to their surrounding environment, they seem to have an extreme aversion just based on appearance."
"So what's the current situation?"
The woman on the screen quickly replayed the video.
"Since so many of the experiment subjects have already died, they realized that these tentacles were not transcendent beings representing the mysteries of the universe but rather terrible disasters. Therefore, they have begun their counterattacks."
Can water fleas counterattack a bear?
At first glance, it sounds absurd. But the woman spoke seriously, and he didn't question her.
The following footage revealed the reason.
"Uuu! Uuu!"
Instead of submitting to the disaster-like death that had come before them, the experiment subjects attacked by climbing over the corpses of their kin.
The method was simple. As soon as the bronze-colored meat chunks touched the ground, they crawled up it. Remarkably quickly. The tentacle strands twisted together, sweeping away the skin, and each time, the experiment subjects burst and were crushed, turning into red stains on a blue canvas.
Yet those that survived continued to advance, eventually biting into the corneas. Then a strange thing happened. Each time they tore, they inflicted wounds several times, even tens of times larger than their own size. At this rate, even the monster might feel a sting.
For a creature the size of a water flea, it displayed an ant-level of offensive power.
But he didn't marvel. Instead, he clicked his tongue and muttered. How much it has degenerated. Is it natural for a defective product designed long ago to be left to deteriorate without maintenance?
By the way.
'What to do?'
He pondered.
The ancestors of those experiment subjects had been deemed unusable as soon as they were created from the culture medium. The fate was decided by the embedded souls. Naturally, there was substance. Even the durability of the shell was a mess.
Ironically, this was why they were not discarded. "How do you kill a being close to an intelligent entity biologically, especially when it has an embedded soul?! We'll refer this to the ethics committee!" The owner of that cultivation farm, which was operating at the time, eventually had no choice but to release the experiment subjects on a remote planet.
It was no surprise that the owner of the farm, who had produced such defective goods, was demoted. After the farm failed and was dismantled, the remaining assets went through several stages before finally being inherited by him.
An inheritance he had almost forgotten. Since it had not undergone an intelligence evaluation, it was still legally his.
It was easy to forget. It's impossible to remember each grain of sand on the beach.
Moreover, the objective value was nonexistent.
'If left as is, they'll become extinct?'
Both the attackers and the attacked were still primitive civilizations. The tentacled monsters seemed a bit better, but from their perspective, they were just as average. Therefore, it would be best not to interfere with such problems.
...But.
"Damn it, why did they have to create such defective products?"
The civilization of the tentacled monsters that were violating the test subjects seemed focused on physical enhancement rather than tool development. Given that their bodies were capable of swimming through space, this made sense. As a result, their work, which was more akin to hunting, slaughtering, or exterminating—words difficult to choose from—depended solely on their tentacles. This made their actions appear even more brutal.
The sound of screams. Desperate, agonized screams.
He watched the test subjects on the screen who were burning with the will to survive, refusing to give up.
Those who were engrossed in futile resistance.
"······."
As expected, it was all too familiar.
Ignoring the shoddy durability and abilities typical of defective products, the appearance was strikingly similar.
They looked like people.
'If only they were properly dressed, they would be indistinguishable.'
Indeed, the appearance of those test subjects was much like that of humans. Creatures that looked just like their own kind were being torn apart, shredded, and blown to bits.
The origin of souls had not yet been determined, and the identity of the souls that flowed into those test subjects remained a mystery.
But one thing was clear: while they were sentient beings, they were not human. There is only one species of human in the universe. Thus, there was no need to come up with another term; they were simply called people.
'Damn.'
He naturally recalled her face.
'What would Adkiel do in this situation?'
The answer seemed clear.
His gaze hardened.
"I will intervene."
Though it was against the rules, who would dare defy his decision?
The woman looked surprised.
"Pardon? Then... I'll prepare the spaceship right away!"
Her surprise quickly turned to joy. Her intentions were clear. Transcending countless ages, she was filled with anticipation that he would finally venture beyond this planet.
Perhaps she thought he might even visit their home planet if things went well.
Wake up.
"No, I'll stay here."
"······?!"
It didn't seem necessary to move.
It would be enough if it appeared that way.
He recalled the scene from earlier. The test subjects kneeling and worshipping before the tentacles. The phenomenon of worshipping an entity beyond their cognitive range.
A good idea came to mind.
I came to you in this form because I love you.
"...Agent?"
At the sound of his name, the criminal opened his eyes.
Every time he moved his eyelids, faint vision and darkness alternated. He waited for the drowsiness to completely dissipate. A moment would suffice.
In the swirling darkness, he saw a dragon watching him. It was a dragon of 4 meters in height, in a room with high ceilings that allowed it to lay comfortably. The ghost-possessed dragon looked at him with a complex expression—fear, concern, anxiety, tension...
Min-jun quickly remembered where and when he was.
"Are you awake?"
He had only briefly dozed off.
He had been looking at Ha-eun's star from Kyoto, and the thought of Adkiel continued, eventually leading to a dream involving the guiding dragon.
At least, that was the beginning of the dream. The golden dragon lying at his feet. It was vivid.
"...Yes. I'm awake."
He had returned here just before dawn. To Raymond Wong's house, which he was using as a hideout. When this luxurious mansion was once partially destroyed, Min-jun had helped repair it, designing it uniquely for its current use. No one in the house, except for the great dragon, knew they were hiding here.
Returning home, he had briefly sat on the sofa and then closed his eyes without resisting the drowsiness. Sleep and dreams were very important to him at the moment. Even without the sleep induction from Yumtus, fragments of memories naturally visited him, starting from the very distant, old memories... in chronological order.
The sensations he felt in the dream ebbed away like the retreating tide. They were much freer and more capable than his current body could perceive. Although he felt regret over the loss, he was satisfied that the reclaimed memories did not disappear again.
"Grrr…"
The smell of blood. Moans.
Turning his gaze, he saw Yumtus lying on the floor. The carpet was soaked in blood, possibly gushing from the third eye on his forehead. He snapped his fingers, and the bloodstains disappeared as if they were lies.
"Over here... Agent?"
The dragon hesitated beyond the still-present darkness and spoke.
"If you're awake, could you please…"
Wait a moment, darkness?
Even after his vision returned, the black energy remained like stains all around.
Min-jun then realized the problem.
"Stop. Come back."
It was not a message for Ha-eun.
Sssss!
He commanded the shadows that had subtly emerged from his body and were encroaching around the sofa to return.
Come back.
------!
While he was unconscious, the radius of movement was barely about a meter. Even what was manifested in the material world was half-hearted and had no influence on the surroundings.
It was merely visible.
This was why the dragon, curled up in the corner and trembling, had dared not approach.
"Quickly."
He spoke with emphasis. The shadow that had been writhing like dark clouds swirled strangely. It seemed to say:
You have committed an irredeemable sin.
Instead of making excuses or protesting, he forced the seeping shadow back into his body. Only then did the dragon sigh in relief.
At that moment.
Knock, knock.
The sound of knocking. Min-jun, who had already known of the approach, said:
"Come in."
A dragon polymorphed into a middle-aged Oriental man entered and saluted. Although he appeared to be in good condition, Min-jun saw that his life force was dangerously low.
The great dragon, Raymond Wong, reported to Min-jun.
"I just received a call from Jenkins. Although I had already delegated my voting rights a long time ago, it seems some of the dragons who had been voting against him have been swayed by his 'earnest persuasion.'"
"So?"
"An emergency dragon council meeting is scheduled for today. Here, in Hong Kong."
The time has come.
< 169. Hate to Hate (7) > End