Chapter 276:

Chapter 276:

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Where did it all go wrong?

It wasn’t that Montana neglected security before his big operation, nor that he was on bad terms with other cartels.

Montana, with one foot in legality and the other in the shadows, tirelessly worked to avoid creating unnecessary enemies. He ran his cartel like a businessman, not a pirate.

As a result, he built a cartel so massive it ranked among the top three at Space Dock. His approach had proven successful—at least until today.

Just moments ago, Montana stepped into the private elevator for Second Command, struggling to keep himself from screaming in frustration. The beautiful music flowing from the elevator’s speakers was doing little to calm him, especially as the sound of gunfire mixed into the smooth piano melody forced reality upon him.

His fortress was falling.

"...Damn it."

It was impossible to hold back his curses in this situation. As he muttered slowly, the guards standing behind him flinched.

It wasn’t only Second Command under attack. Communications with Third Command were completely cut off, and reinforcements from First Command were isolated by monstrous creatures scattered everywhere.

“All that’s left is...”

Escaping the fortress.

On the 110th floor of each command post, there’s a means of escape from the fortress. When the Empire managed the fortress, they installed private transports for their officials to survey the planet.

These small rockets could eject directly to specific points on the planet, reaching them at high speed. The transports were also protected by reinforced shields normally used on warships, making them quite safe.

However, they couldn’t be piloted and could only land at pre-designated points. Once there, all he could do was wait for a rescue team.

"Asking for help from other cartels is out of the question."

The reason he left Central Control was because he’d heard that the enemy had breached the underground bunker. Those merciless monsters wouldn’t have spared the VIPs hiding there.

The fortress was crumbling, and his powerful VIP allies were gone. No other cartel would lend him a hand.

"...Wait a second."

The ones in the banquet hall were all finished, but those staying on the upper floors hadn’t been touched.

Especially the woman he held in the highest regard—a member of the cult.

She had chosen not to attend the banquet, citing personal reasons. Although she was mysterious and avoided contact with others, if she was still upstairs, he had hope.

The woman was someone the head of Gar Melda’s family had instructed him to treat with utmost respect. If he stayed hidden on the planet with her, Gar Melda would surely send help.

When the display numbers hit the 90s, he pressed for floor 100. That was where his last insurance policy remained.

—

"Dieeeeee!"

"Fall back! Fall—aaaah!"

Gunfire roared, interspersed with curses and screams.

The Auxiliary Organ under its chin detected the vibrations of these familiar sounds, tinged with a sweet scent.

Number 26’s invasive tendrils dragged pirates out from their hiding spots at the hall’s crossroads. Before they could resist, the six appendages at the tips of the tendrils shredded the captured flesh.

Warm blood, organs, and flesh fragments that should never have seen the light of day spilled out. If compared to music, their fragrance was like an elegant symphony woven by distinct strings.

「If it were human, I suppose it would have shuddered.」

Indeed, the pirates, drenched in the blood of their companions, looked like they could barely keep their sanity. Staring vacantly at their comrades torn to pieces, they soon met a similar fate at the hands of the mutated creatures extending from between Number 26’s legs.

The mutated creatures roared, waving tendrils crowned with trophies of decapitated heads. Others charged at the remaining pirates, eager to claim trophies of their own.

「I wonder how that one is doing.」

It had been some time since PS-111 began its hack against Third Command. The machine had undergone several upgrades before reaching the fortress. By now, it was likely breaching Third Command’s firewalls.

「If it’s on schedule, it’ll take another ten minutes...」

Ascending through the fortress, leaving devastation in my wake, I soon found myself nearing the top.

“Almost there.”

After the opulent 100th floor, there were no more signs of human presence. Instead, the walls separating the floors were more than twice as thick as before. This must be because I’m approaching the floor with the transport ships.

“No wall can withstand acidic breath, though.”

Thick as they may be, they’re nowhere near as tough as the shielded walls. I opened my mouth and unleashed a highly acidic fungal breath.

Just like creatures melting through laboratory walls with acid blood in classic sci-fi horror movies, the ceiling was carved out by the acidic breath. The damage wasn’t limited to just one floor—above, I could see melted remains on the next.

I broke through the liquefied walls and continued upwards until I finally reached the top.

Here, a long silo stretched upward, exceeding the height of Command itself. Though I couldn’t see it past the shield walls, from here one could normally view the entirety of the fortress and the planet beyond through reinforced glass.

At the bottom of the metal-lined silo was a small transport ship. A handful of people who were about to board it looked at me, startled.

There was a rather rotund pirate, three bodyguards, and a woman cultist with antlers on her head.

“Antlers?”

I’ve fought with antlered cultists before, though they’re anything but common. Cultists with antlers are among the most powerful psychic users and the highest nobility within cult society. Their numbers are few, and they rarely engage in external activities.

Among those I’ve faced, only Muriel and Jason had antlers, and they were both players, not your usual cultists.

“Could they be a player?”

I remembered Kadun’s words: there was a powerful figure among the Marcio Cartel’s clients.

“First, let’s deal with the transport ship.”

Whether that cultist is a player or not, cutting off their escape route takes priority. I prepared my psychic breath without delay.

My mutated tendrils glowed purple, emitting intense energy. The violet beam, a facsimile of the immense powers bestowed only upon dragons, shot toward the transport ship.

Though the ship possessed an impressive shield, it was currently inactive. There was no way it could block my attack.

But what happened next was beyond my expectations.

When the antlered cultist raised her right arm, a circular mandala formed of purple threads appeared, nullifying the psychic breath. No, “nullified” wasn’t the right word.

The fiery psychic power met the mandala and vanished as if it had never existed in the first place.

The mandala curved into a dome, shielding the transport and those around her.

“What kind of technique is that?”

There are few defensive techniques capable of neutralizing an attack so effortlessly.

If it were something like the Red Armor of the Red Gallagons or Vortex One’s defensive ability, that might suffice, but this is a cultist. While there are psychic power techniques capable of blocking a psychic breath, none should be able to do so this easily.

“And there was no recoil.”

With Adhai, using Red Armor to block attacks still means her body absorbs the shock, so she gets pushed back.

Yet this cultist seemed to manipulate and neutralize the very nature of my breath, as if they used the “Complex Spectrum” skill.

“Could it be...?”

An unknown technique, an antlered cultist roaming around a pirate fortress.

Taking these two factors into account, there could be only one answer.

“A cultist ranker.”

“...Rank 5.”

The cultist, exuding a chilling aura, looked at me and murmured in an icy tone.

An unexpected opponent in an unexpected place—a ranker, just like me.

From her outstretched left hand surged an overwhelming psychic power, hurtling directly toward me.