The Foreigner on the Periphery

‘He’ was suffering indescribable pain.

It had been a long time since he lost his most important memories. Having forgotten his own identity, he had simply been repeating a single task up until recently.

That task was absorbing the intense flashes of light overflowing around him into his soul.

This work had continued for some time.

‘It hurts... It hurts so much.’

He remembered only that he had no limits. As if he could break through any wall, he felt he could embrace any amount of Talents.

Nevertheless, at some point, he had stopped absorbing them.

‘No more. If I assimilate any more than this... I won't be myself anymore.’

It was an instinctive realization, an intuitive judgment.

The agony only deepened when he stopped resonating with the waves of Talents.

He couldn't have happy dreams like the others sleeping in Elahu-Praga, nor was he anchored to the inner walls of the heart as they were.

Ultimately, he was pushed away by the pulse, drifting through the blood vessels until he became something akin to a blood clot blocking a midpoint. His original form was nowhere to be found; he had morphed into a massive lump.

He continued to think in that horrifying state.

A meditation in agony, where the beginning and end could no longer be grasped.

‘I want to escape.’

The urge to give up on everything.

He felt desperate. He wanted to quit.

Had it been foolish to hold on in the first place?

Perhaps it would have been easier to entrust his soul to the tsunami of light from the beginning, letting himself crumble away like grains of sand.

Or maybe, even now, it wouldn't be so bad to absorb more Talents and turn into something else entirely.

‘It hurts. It hurts so much.’

The price of holding onto his sense of self was this terrible pain.

Then was there any need to cling to it? If this consciousness was maintained only by agony.

‘...’

But, sadly.

Whenever he tried to give up, a surge of emotion burst forth, welling up inside him.

‘Is this truly my end?’

Just thinking about it was painful. He felt anxious about what would happen if he disappeared. Merely imagining it left him desperate and angry.

‘I don't want this!’

Beyond his hazy memories, he was on the verge of remembering someone. The reason he had endured all this time. It seemed he had a place to return to, and people waiting for him.

But now, even that was faint. Instead of longing, a flood of pain, anxiety, and anger overflowed within him.

Even so, he refused to let go of his consciousness. He had to remember.

The moment he tried to focus on those hazy memories—

— ...So.

An unexpected voice reached his ears.

It, too, was one of the memory fragments embedded deep within his soul. But it wasn't what he had been trying so hard to recall; it was something else entirely.

It felt like a memory much older than the one he had intended to dredge up.

— ...Do you understand? Pain, anxiety, anger. These emotions are advantageous for survival. The more acutely a gene feels them, the higher the chance it will be passed down. You have to be sensitive to pain so you don't touch fire barehanded. You have to be quick to feel anxiety so you can run away the moment you see a beast's tracks. And the stronger you feel anger, the higher your chances of winning the competition for food.

‘Wait, what did that mean?’

Paradoxically, he failed to grasp the meaning while simultaneously understanding it perfectly.

— Therefore, it's only natural that most people evolved to be unable to free themselves from such emotions.

— Of course, there are downsides. Pain, anxiety, and anger make it hard for a person to feel happy. But your genes don't care about your happiness.

The memory churned as the voice spread. He felt a heavy authority in that unfamiliar yet intimately familiar resonance.

But he couldn't remember the speaker's identity. He was confused. Who had said this?

— However, unlike our primitive ancestors, we can discern danger through knowledge. We don't need to hide in trees to avoid beasts, nor do we need to test how hard each other's skulls are with stone axes. People don't have to feel negative emotions more than necessary because of some old, obsolete defense mechanism. Helping them with that is our job.

‘Our job?’

— It's not about completely stripping them of negative emotions. Those feelings are also what make a human human. Instead, we want to create a sense of happiness strong enough for them to handle it.

He felt a sense of unfairness. He wanted to talk back to her.

‘Then why do only we have to feel pain unfiltered?’

— Yes. It isn't permitted for people like us. We must accept vivid pain, anxiety, and anger... we have to take in 100% of that agony just as it is. Because those emotions sometimes stimulate our potential beyond its limits.

— Do you understand now why we can't plant that in your head? The noble ones must not do so.

The noble ones.

He felt he understood more than just the dictionary definition of those words.

And the weight they carried, too.

The mentor in his memory spoke.

— ...The reason you get a ‘feeling of having lost something’ as soon as you wake up in the morning is also because you don't have that in your head. It's a natural anxiety a person feels. Such emotions sometimes come without any reason.

— So rest easy. You haven't lost anything. You are perfect. You aren't lacking in the slightest.

— Now, go eat your breakfast. And let's start today's lesson a little late. I'll visit the barn by myself.

— Yes, you haven't lost a single thing.

— Not a single thing...

Thump! Thump! Thump!

He shifted his consciousness, which had briefly drifted toward the old memory, back outward.

With the point blocking the blood vessel as a boundary, the pulse above was growing stronger and stronger. Every time the heart beat, the bloodstream of Talents mercilessly battered him. It was an unbearable agony.

On the other hand, the lower half was completely dry, without a single sliver of light. And the reason he had turned his consciousness back was because of that side.

‘...Who is it?’

From down below, someone was calling him.

   *

The star system of Dimension #00-001. A point in space closer to the outskirts than the core where the Ancient Race resided.

A pursuit between fleets of hundreds of ships was underway.

The radar officer on the Committee's command ship reported.

"The enemy fleet appears to be running their Recoilless Propulsion Engines at maximum output."

"How long will it take them to reach the speed limit?"

"It's expected to take at least ten minutes."

Ten minutes was more than enough time to catch up.

The commander smiled as he received the report. At the same time, he muttered to himself.

‘Idiots.’

Both sides' battleships were the exact same model with the exact same performance.

However, the Committee's fleet had departed from the center of the star system and gained enough acceleration on their way here, reaching the speed limit long ago.

When battleships of this size sailed through the normal material world outside of Hyperspace, their speed limit was set to around 55% of the speed of light. Accelerating beyond that would cause interstellar matter and radiation to damage the shields.

Meanwhile, the order's battleships were dropping their speed—which had barely neared the limit—before raising it again. They had experienced deceleration while curving their trajectory to escape.

Even though Asiph-1 must have read the captive's memories, its trajectory wasn't efficient enough.

‘There is bound to be a gap between knowing something and actually recreating it.’

To Commander Todd, it was only natural.

Thanks to this, the enemy was already within missile range, but the commander decided to wait a little longer.

Until they were within the range where the Photon Cannons could deal maximum damage.

"We will enter the maximum output range of the Photon Cannons within five minutes."

"Good."

The commander, who had been nodding, suddenly fixed his gaze on a single spot.

"Those bastards...?"

He had spotted something detaching simultaneously from the hulls of the fleeing order's ships.

‘Missiles?’

But their trajectories were far too erratic to be missiles.

The officer checking the radar spoke up.

"The enemy is simultaneously detaching their cargo bays and abandoning them in outer space."

Todd clicked his tongue.

"A desperate struggle to reduce their mass, even a little."

Rather than finding it funny, he felt angry.

Those battleships originally belonged to the Ancient Race.

To dismantle someone else's precious assets in outer space just to run away faster...

Regardless, thanks to the reduction in weight and size, the order's battleships sped up. But in the end, they would be caught.

And that prediction became a reality.

A moment later, the rear of the enemy fleet displayed on the Committee's screens grew noticeably larger. They had struggled to escape through the abyss of space, but this was as far as they would go.

"The distance between our vanguard and the enemy fleet's rear is closing within 30 light-seconds! We can strike with maximum Photon Cannon output!"

The time had come.

Commander Todd shouted in a resolute tone.

"Entire fleet, open fire!"

Thick beams of light poured out simultaneously from the Committee's funnel-shaped fleet formation.

Some bounced off the order's shields, but there were also arrows of light steadily puncturing holes through them.

Just then.

"...What?"

The bows of the enemy fleet turned, their trajectories curving once again.

It was an incomprehensible display of fleet maneuvering.

"What a total mess!"

The fleeing order changed direction by 180 degrees yet again. Then, they began to approach, completely reversing their course thus far.

The order's fleet, tightly clustered into the shape of a rugby ball, approached the Committee's formation, which looked like a funnel lying on its side, narrowing toward the rear.

It looked as if they were throwing themselves straight into the maw created by the Committee.

The commander's mind spun rapidly.

"They must have realized escape is impossible, so they're going for a frontal breakthrough."

Were they intending to use the advantage of a tight formation to concentrate their firepower on a single point and punch a hole through the encirclement?

But it was far, far too late.

Todd issued orders with a booming voice.

"Great, we welcome it. Let those bastards do as they please! Wait until they get deep inside our formation!"

The Committee, maintaining their hollow cylindrical formation, accepted them without interference.

It was a plan to perfectly encircle them and wipe them out in one fell swoop.

The command ship's AI calculated the enemy's speed. Hearing the results, the commander gave his orders.

"In 1 minute and 25 seconds, the entire fleet will resume firing!"

The two hundred scattered Committee battleships began to narrow the width of their cylindrical formation. The rear end, in particular, clumped together as if forming a wall. They were completely blocking off the order's retreat.

Once the time elapsed.

The commander ordered.

"Entire fleet, fire!"

Once again, a blinding shower of light erupted in the black space.

Photon Cannons, calibrated far more precisely than in the previous exchange, rained down into the interior of the funnel they had created.

By their estimates, the enemy's shields should have already been significantly depleted.

Therefore, they absolutely wouldn't be able to withstand this concentrated barrage...

"...What?!"

That was when it happened.

Todd's eyes widened. The radar officer and the gunnery officer also froze, as if they couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

"What's going on?!"

The gunnery officer hurriedly began verifying the data with the AI.

The enemy definitely hadn't even neared the battleships' speed limit until a moment ago. They had been moving at merely 35% of the speed of light.

Even though they had precisely calculated the speed and trajectory of their targets before firing...

"I said, what is going on?!"

The commander's voice cracked.

The exhilarating scene they had anticipated didn't become reality. There was no sight of the order's fleet shattering into pieces and spewing flames.

The Photon Cannons scattered vainly, colliding with one another in the black void. Because they had adjusted the range, they at least avoided having the beams shoot straight through and hit their own formation.

However, the order's fleet, which should have been shot down on the spot, was already gone.

"Is it an error?!"

The radar officer repeatedly checked with the AI, panic plastered across his face.

But the result was clear.

"N-no error, sir. There's no problem with the sensors. The AI's calculations were also accu—"

"Damn it, then recalculate and fire! Shoot those damn things down!"

Once again, burning heat rays carved through the black space.

But it was the same this time. The order's fleet moved ahead of the coordinates and trajectories predicted by the AI. That was why the Photon Cannons kept missing.

An officer spoke while staring at his display.

"The enemy fleet is... accelerating at an inexplicable speed. Current speed is 55% of the speed of light! They've already hit the speed limit!"

"What?!"

It was impossible.

A fleet that had just been cruising at 0.35 times the speed of light accelerated to nearly double that in a matter of seconds?

If they did that, the battleships wouldn't be able to hold together.

Even as they panicked, the firing continued. But the enemy fleet kept accelerating at a rate that transcended the computer's calculations.

A few of the Photon Cannons fired by the Committee managed to get close to their targets by sheer dumb luck. However, every time they did, the enemy fleet displayed the fluid movements of a living organism. They slightly twisted their formation or subtly adjusted the distance between ships, letting the Photon Cannons slip right through the gaps.

It was a reaction time akin to the speed of neurotransmitters, something that could never be replicated by even the most brilliant commander or AI calculations.

In the meantime, the order's fleet, clustered like a massive grain of rice, was already advancing toward the rear of the encirclement formation.

It was then that the commander heard an even more unbelievable report.

"Enemy fleet... hitting 75% of the speed of light!"

The commander's jaw dropped.

"Overdrive?!"

It wasn't entirely impossible if they pushed the Recoilless Propulsion Engines to their absolute limits.

"But if they did that, their shields would be ripped apart!"

No such disaster occurred.

With their shields fully engaged, the order's fleet charged forward, trailing waves of energy behind them like comets.

It was an impossible occurrence.

Those battleships clearly had the exact same performance specs as the Committee's...

‘Wait!’

The commander's train of thought stopped right there.

The acceleration the enemy ships had just displayed was a performance impossible for sixth-generation Recoilless Propulsion Engines.

Shields capable of withstanding a cruising speed pushed to 75% of the speed of light did not exist within the Committee, either.

In that case.

"Was it not simply Overdrive... but Over Technology?!"

According to Endelion's observations so far, the battleships stolen by the order had never exhibited anything beyond their original performance limits, even as they crossed through countless dimensions.

Since it was only natural, they had never once doubted it. Even after falling into the order's hands, the battleships had only ever displayed cruising speeds and firepower within the parameters assumed during their initial design.

But what if that had been a thoroughly calculated act?

What if they had actually been modified by Asif-666 to unleash performance far beyond their limits, yet they had intentionally hidden that fact?

The commander realized he had taken the bait.

"Oh my god!"

While they stood frozen, the order's fleet, enveloped in the radiance of their shields, charged ahead in a flash. They closed the distance all the way to the tail of the encirclement the Committee had built.

And the wall of battleships waiting for them there...

—!

They pierced right through and bypassed it with far too much ease.

The commander watched as allied battleships were cleaved in half, sent tumbling away with their flanks destroyed.

The order's fleet casually shook off their obstructors and grew distant, heading toward the Committee Headquarters.

In that split second, the AI calculated their speed.

"Enemy fleet... has hit 95% of the speed of light!"

It was an overwhelming technological gap that allowed them to use the cylindrical formation meant to encircle them as a mere ‘tunnel.’

‘Wait, if it comes to this.’

The commander shouted, overcome by a horrifying sensation that froze his very soul.

"What is the distance from our current location to the Committee Headquarters?!"

Because of the pursuit, the battlefield had already shifted quite far from the center of the star system.

The operator replied.

"It's 1.07 light-hours!"

A distance that would take roughly one hour even at the speed of light.

The commander wore a look of despair.

Asiph-1 showing sloppy fleet maneuvering and moving sluggishly until they were caught had been an intentional act. It was a ploy to lure the Committee's battleships all the way out here!

Having achieved that goal, the order shook off their opponents and began sprinting at an astonishing speed. If they maintained their cruising speed, they would reach the headquarters just slightly slower than light itself.

On the other hand, it would take the Ancient Race's battleships almost twice as much time to cover the same distance.

A gap of roughly one hour.

"My god, right now at headquarters...!"

The only battleships remaining there were the few dozen prepped to counter a solo diversionary tactic by a superhuman.

Their main base would be completely defenseless for a whole hour.

‘What could around 150 enemy ships do there in that timeframe?’

No, it would be faster to think of what they couldn't do.

The commander screamed, verging on a frenzied fit.

"Connect me to headquarters via Spirit Realm Communication right now! Tell them to lift the Distortion Field!"

Now that it had come to this, they had to return via ultra-long-distance Teleport. They could never catch up by crossing space using the battleships' innate performance.

Therefore, they had no choice but to temporarily disable the field interfering with space folding. Of course, that would mean the enemy fleet could Teleport as well, but it was still better than this. It would be preferable for the two fleets to clash in the center of the star system, even if they had to endure a certain degree of civilian casualties.

Just then, the communications officer cried out in a dazed voice.

"There's no response from headquarters!"

The commander barely managed to keep his knees from buckling.

Why had the perfectly functioning communication suddenly been cut off?

"What in the world is happening over there now?"

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