Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
Creed, 21, citizen of the Helgamoth Empire’s southern provinces had tidy features and appeared handsome. A former Mycroft Expeditionary and Silver-intermediate captain of Corvette Number Five of the Twenty Ninth Squadron, he was presently buck naked in an unknown alien world, and interacting with a mysterious alien lifeform called Elma.
“…I’m not saying anything.”
When Creed heard the words ‘Amos’ and ‘Amos Court’, he blinked with endless thoughts flashing past in his mind. His instinctive sentiments also turned at once from shock to fear, alertness and vigilance, his thoughts and helplessness now a present firmness. Then, having gathered his thoughts, he took a slight step back.
“Thanks for saving me, but I’m not saying a word about Mycroft’s civilization… eh?”
Creed quickly closed his mouth—Elma had raised a ‘hand’ to conjure a screen displaying a brief footage, showing scenes of the Mycroft civilization which, after ending their standoff with the Knowers across two different galaxies, kept expanding, subjugating other civilizations as vassals, and consolidating the base of their authority. They did not hold back from displaying their might, with the scenes were so clear, the angle so precise, and the details so sharp that it was obvious they had captured the footage themselves, and were delivering them to everyone.
“Do you think there is a need for you to talk about Mycroft civilization? The Imperator may be unaware of how famous your brethren are now, but information about them has already been sent across the Multiverse, and is probably the hottest topic everywhere.”
Sitting on a weirdly shaped chair, the translucent tentacled humanoid form of Elma continued lazily, “Stop making such a fuss. When you were in deep slumber, the information welling out of your soul has already revealed to me that you’re just the captain of a little ship from the Mycroft Expedition. The information you have is probably lacking as compared to the ones from the official channels.”
What on earth is going on back home?! I’m gone a few days, and it looks like they are about to conquer the Multiverse?!
Creed was dumbstruck, and though he was filled with pride for his civilization and a little angered that they had not brought him along, he did not remain excited for too long. Rubbing his head by reflex, the dense hair—though seeming a little too dense—settling him, the captain of the little ship asked carefully, “Then… why did you save me?”
***
As Elma had put it, Creed knew that he was merely the captain of a small ship, with a position that was neither insignificant nor considerable, and was not privy to any secret information. In other words, he was actually of little value.
Still, Elma had revealed itself as an Amos… the Amos Court, which had a champion who fought on equal terms with his commander-in-chief, and was alleged to be born callous and xenophobic having waged a bloody war with another powerful alien race over ten thousand years—a fearsome and violent species, no matter how one went about it. That being said, Creed had not been dissected and his soul not broken apart to have its information absorbed, not to mention that he had not been handed over to the authorities as well.
It was simply weird, no matter how he thought about it!
Perhaps having just awakened from a spiritual slumber, Creed felt dizzy just thinking for a moment. Whether it was the human creation skill of the Amos before him that was lacking or the body that did not conform to standards, his soul and mental circuits appeared incompatible and the synapses had trouble connecting.
Nonetheless, Elma raised its hand and gave a flick, and the white shell once again seeped with substantial translucent physical substance that formed a chair, settling Creed down steadily when he was about to fall.
“…Thanks,” he muttered.
“Unnecessary. Like lifting a finger.”
Elma’s tentacles convulsed, its radiant skin turning silver-white this time as the Amos of a curious form spoke nonchalantly in spirit. “It’s the same with my saving you. I’ve simply been salvaging war debris and hoping for something helpful out of it, but you are a welcomed surprise. Still, rescue teams of your brethren could have recovered you even if I had not helped you.”
“But you must be puzzled as to why would a cruel, xenophobic and violent Amos would be so friendly? It’s simple—I have something I need your help with later, and it’s the earnest kind which is with full body and soul, without hypnosis, mind games, or spirit deviation. Don’t look at me like that—I’ve studied you Mycroftians carefully, and while your kind are certainly an interesting species, I can understand the intent of your gaze whether through culture or skill, not to mention that we are still spiritually linked.”
Elma’s tone was calm. The message it conveyed was also clear and straightforward—it turned its ‘head’ to stare at Creed and added serenely, “That is why I won’t hurt you or break your soul, you can rest at ease on that respect. You are a lot more valuable than to think.”
What could Creed say? He could certainly only thank Elma, what with his own fate out of his hands and not having even known where he was, not to mention his inability to discern the level of ability of the Amos before him—it would definitely have been useless to resist. Moreover, Elma was showing no clear hostility, even informing him clearly of its intention to use him without any deception.
Although Elma was an individual of an enemy race, as it had put it itself, Creed believed he had no reason to refuse it following its kind actions, as long as it was not too important.
“Then forgive me for being frank… May I know what can I help you with?”
Gulping, Creed felt that he did not really have any space to refuse, and if that had been the case, why should he not have asked after its intentions directly? If it did intend harm on Mycroft, he could just kill himself—that being said, having gone missing for so long, had his parents received his compensation fund already?
Creed was not nervous when he thought about that, since there was no reason for him to be cagey, given that he was technically dead. Hence, after a brief hesitation, he asked, “To be specific, I want to know what your ultimate intentions are in saving me at such generous cost?”
It was a simple question in the first place, but when Creed asked it, he felt as if the entire radiant shell room had promptly dimmed. A cool wind gusted out of nowhere, carrying a surge of negative energy. Elma, who appeared lazy, mild, and nonchalant about everything emanated a spiritual presence several times sharper and colder than before, its silver-white radiance instantly turning dark blue—the cold presence of the deepest oceans.
“My intentions, huh…”
While Creed did his best to compose himelf from shuddering, Elma spoke with a self-deprecating tone in spirit, “What? What other intentions could I have?”
“Of course I am rebelling against our god, our ruler—the unrivalled king whose might stands above the stars, Imperator Amos.”
