Became an Evolving Space Monster

The day after hunting the Giganterium, I left the nest on my own.

Ham Ort mentioned that I wasn't particularly needed for the next hunt. With Adhai's skill, the group would likely return safely.

Adhai had taken the lead for the hunt, and 26 was preoccupied playing with the younglings.

Though the game didn’t delve into much detail, I now realized that the Blue Gallagons were incredibly curious creatures. When not feeding or resting, they constantly explored, seeking new things to pique their interest. While it was fine if they roamed only within the canyon's caves, some attempted to venture outside, which caused problems.

Between the canyon walls ran a boiling acidic river, a result of geothermal activity. Unlike White or Green Gallagons, the Blue ones had softer scales that would suffer severe damage if exposed to the river.

Thanks to this, the Gallagons tasked with caretaking had a hard time managing the mischievous younglings—until 26 arrived to assist.

Using its newly acquired mutated tentacles, 26 engaged the young Gallagons’ curiosity. The tentacles constantly transformed into new shapes, acting as toys for the little ones. They were mesmerized.

“And as a bonus, it’s providing them with psychic power.”

With both Adhai and 26 occupied, I decided to visit PS-111 on my own.

After leaving the canyon, I flew in the opposite direction of where I’d been yesterday. Below, I noticed plants resembling giant oyster mushrooms, their caps reaching tens of meters in height.

Adjusting the position of my wing-arms, I descended and used my combat limbs to tear a piece from one of the peculiar plants’ tops. Crushing it into a pulp, I tossed it into the central mouth.

“Hmm.”

Although it looked like a mushroom, its taste was entirely different.

The flavor was reminiscent of almond milk mixed with soy milk, with hints of fruit. While the taste itself wasn’t unpleasant, the excessive moisture made for an unsatisfying texture.

“At least it’s nutritious.”

I’d seen the Gallagons feeding this to their young alongside psychic power, and now I understood why.

Given how different this environment was from their previous habitat, raising the young must have been challenging. Fortunately, the abundance of nutritious food ensured that none of the younglings seemed malnourished.

“I hope they like the taste.”

Satisfied, I continued sampling various nearby plants, using my combat limbs and legs to gather chunks. I fed some to the two heads on either side of me as I leisurely moved forward.

---

Eventually, frost began to accumulate on my wing membranes and carapace. Looking below, I noticed fewer living plants. The icy ceiling above was now adorned with massive stalactites, some even larger than myself.

This region differed from others due to its thinner ice layers. The reason for this lay ahead: an artificial structure rising from the frozen wasteland.

A toppled tower, leaning like the Tower of Pisa, stood alone on the lifeless, frozen ground.

This structure was the wrecked Screamer support ship that we recovered after defeating Pyra Eleven. It had crash-landed on this planet following the battle with the Gorgon Swarm. The rear section was completely destroyed, and the outer walls were riddled with irreparable holes.

Despite its ruined state, the support ship emitted a faint light, welcoming the return of its long-absent owner.

---

I entered through the gaping hole in the rear section. Inside, the partially functioning lights flickered, as if greeting me.

“PS-111 must already know I’m here.”

After the battle with the Gorgon Swarm, PS-111 had repurposed this damaged ship into a makeshift communications relay, ensuring it could effectively manage any future vessels or machinery we might acquire.

The decision proved wise. The Gigacracker, unable to land on this planet, now orbited under remote control. Without the relay, PS-111 would have had to remain in space to oversee it.

I folded my wing-arms, lowered my body, and crawled through the tilted structure. Assuming PS-111 would be in the control room, I headed downwards. However, the lights cut off midway.

“Not in the control room?”

The passage ahead was pitch black. Before the lights went out completely, I had glimpsed a sign indicating the area’s purpose.

“Production Bay.”

Now that I thought about it, this area was near the storage facilities for genetic samples and cryogenic containers. Likely, the production bay was where materials from the storage were used to create Screamers.

“Is it planning another self-modification?”

The ship no longer had any genetic samples remaining.

“Might as well go take a look.”

I crawled a little further down and used my wing-arms to push open a half-ajar steel door. Ice shards fell in a cascade as I entered, greeted by the dim, flickering lights of the interior.

The production bay had an eerie, desolate atmosphere.

The ceiling and walls had been stripped of their paneling, leaving the steel framework and pipes exposed. Frozen cables sprawled chaotically across the floor, forming a tangled mess.

Amidst this unsettling setting, makeshift production equipment operated in a crude, almost desperate manner. The clanking of steel, occasional sparks flying from pipe connections, and the overall cacophony added to the laboratory-from-a-nightmare vibe.

At the center of this unsettling scene stood it.

Its form resembled a cross between a spider and a scorpion, with a seven-meter-long body covered in hardened metallic carapace. Eight legs extended from its core, each tipped with a unique weapon.

One limb ended in something resembling a human hand, with fingers replaced by hooked claws. Another bore a blade resembling a machete. Each limb was adorned with jagged spikes, seemingly designed to slice, tear, and crush.

Though its body was monstrous, its face was oddly beautiful.

Perched atop its massive frame was a chrome-colored, pale, humanoid female face. Cables hung like hair, swaying slightly, and its glowing red eyes and the four cables protruding below its chin gave it an unsettling yet captivating appearance.

The striking face turned 180 degrees to face me.

“You have arrived,” it said.

PS-111, its neck and back bristling with cables, greeted me with a subtle nod.

[ZZ ZZZ ZZZZ (I thought you were modifying yourself?)]

“No, I came here for an experiment.”

[ZZ (Experiment?)]

Stepping carefully to avoid the cables and frozen wires beneath my feet, I approached. Before it lay something I found vaguely familiar.

“Wait, this is...?”

“A remote-controlled model,”** PS-111 explained, reading my unspoken question. “I used materials salvaged from the Gigacracker and combined them with local organisms.”

I had assumed it was here to further modify itself, but I was wrong. PS-111 was constructing a Screamer body based on blueprints from the onboard computer.

And not just any Screamer...

This one looked vastly different from the ones I had fought before. In fact, it resembled an earlier version of PS-111 itself. Though incomplete, with only a face and partial body constructed, it was clear the final design would closely mirror PS-111’s own form.

[ZZZZZZZ (A remote-controlled model?)]

“Yes. With a body I can control remotely, I will be able to accomplish far more.”

Finishing its explanation, PS-111 leaned toward the Screamer body.

It moved close enough to kiss the unfinished face that resembled its own, the cables beneath its chin extending autonomously toward the new body’s connectors.

The cables linked with a small burst of sparks, and the Screamer body shuddered as if struck by an electric jolt.

PS-111 tapped the body’s head lightly, and its eyes—glowing red camera lenses—opened, blinking a few times before locking onto me.

“Cal, calibr, ation, compl, ete. How, does, it, look?”

The voice sputtered, distorted at first, but quickly stabilized.

“Calibration complete. How does it look?”

[ZZ ZZZ ZZ ZZZZZ (You built this so quickly?)]

“I reverse-engineered my own body structure and replicated my cellular tissue. With suitable facilities and more time, I believe I can enhance its overall functionality further.”

It was both fascinating and unsettling to watch the Screamer prototype, so closely resembling PS-111, twitch slightly as it began to adjust to its new systems. A mirror of its creator, ready to extend PS-111's reach beyond its current constraints.

The creature spoke humbly, yet from my perspective, it was impossible not to be amazed.

Developing a Screamer is a long-term project—one that takes weeks even in games. Here, in reality, it would likely take months, if not years.

Yet, this creature had managed to produce even an incomplete replica under less-than-ideal conditions. That alone was remarkable.

[ZZZ ZZ Z ZZZ ZZ (It doesn’t seem to have self-awareness.)]

“Yes. Autonomous operational capabilities were deemed unnecessary, so it was not granted independent thought. It operates solely based on the electrical signals I send.”

“Au, auto, no, my, op, op, op, operation, nec, neces, unnecessary.”

[ZZ ZZZ ZZ ZZZZ (So it’s a remote-controlled model.)]

From what I could see, this Screamer was essentially a terminal device that moved only under the creature’s control. Judging by its speech mirroring the creator’s thoughts, it seemed to function only when synchronized with its mind.

Of course, it was still too incomplete to truly be called a Screamer, but this was merely a prototype. Over time, Screamers with performance on par with PS-111 might become widespread.

[ZZZZ ZZ ZZZ ZZZZ (Impressive. So, is it finished?)]

“It will take more time to complete.”

“Fi, fin, fin, finish, needs, more, time, time, time.”

[ZZ ZZZ (Truly amazing.)]

“No, not at all.”

“N, no, no, cor, cor, correct! Th, thank, you! T, this is too go….”

“Error detected in the voice synchronization module. Further adjustments are needed.”

The creature abruptly turned back to the malfunctioning replica and began recalibrating it. Mechanical arms scattered throughout the production chamber moved at its command, modifying the body of the "remote-control model."

Watching this process, a thought crossed my mind.

The Monolith of the Double Helix, a reward from Type 2 Cosmic Monster classification.

It allows the transplantation of up to two general traits, excluding unique traits, to a friendly organism.

Since receiving this ability, I hadn’t tested how it worked. The uncertainty about potential side effects had held me back.

But this Screamer…

Could it serve as a suitable test subject?

Not a bad idea.

Since the Screamer was designed and managed by PS-111, it would be easy to monitor how the traits I transferred functioned. Even if side effects arose, I could simply discard it, minimizing the risk.

Sacrificing one trait is unfortunate…

But it was better than risking harm to any of the others.

Having settled my thoughts, I addressed PS-111.

I told it that I wanted to conduct an experiment.