I Became a Shooter: The Final Respawn

We stood before the massive blast doors, the grainy image from Veda's camera burned into our vision. The pulsating cocoon, the source of the huge red blip on my minimap, was a sight of pure, organic horror. It did not belong in the cold, metal world of a starship. It was an alien presence, a nest for some unknown nightmare.

"What in the hell is that thing?" Jax muttered, his deep voice a low rumble. He hefted his plasma repeater, his knuckles white. His instinct, like a true heavy weapons expert, was to solve the problem with overwhelming firepower. "I say we go in loud. We blast that thing back to whatever void it crawled out of."

"No," I said immediately, my voice a hushed whisper. "Look at it. It's dormant. It's sleeping. The crew's logs... they said it was silent. It hunted them in the dark. If we wake it up without knowing what it can do, we're all dead."

Anya nodded in agreement, her own face pale. "Leo's right. The last entry said it had a 'soundless scream.' I think it hunts by sound. It's blind."

The theory settled over us, a cold, heavy blanket of dread. We were about to enter a monster's lair. A monster that could hear every breath we took, every step we made. Our new mission objective was clear, and it was terrifying: get to the container, extract the Quantum Crystal Lens, and get out. Without making a sound.

This was no longer a combat mission. This was a stealth mission.

Jax grumbled but lowered his weapon. He understood the logic. Veda gave me a sharp, determined nod. She was a scout; silence was her specialty.

"I'll cut the door," Jax whispered. "I can set the plasma cutter to a low, quiet frequency. It'll be slow, but it won't make much noise."

He set to work. The process was agonizingly slow. The plasma cutter hissed quietly, a barely audible sound, as it slowly carved a doorway out of the massive blast door. Every small spark, every faint sizzle, made my muscles tense. I kept my eyes glued to the camera feed on my HUD. The cocoon remained still. Its slow, rhythmic pulse was undisturbed.

Finally, a section of the door was cut free. Jax and I carefully, slowly, pushed it inwards, setting it down on the floor with painstaking gentleness. The way was open.

We slipped into the main cargo bay one by one. The air inside was thick and heavy, carrying a strange, musty, organic smell. The web-like structures that covered every surface were bizarre to the touch, soft and slightly damp, like thick cobwebs. The only light came from our shoulder-mounted flashlights, their narrow beams cutting through the oppressive darkness.

We communicated with simple, practiced hand signals. Veda took point, her movements utterly silent. My own Ghost skill was a godsend, muffling the sound of my footsteps on the metal grating. Jax, for all his bulk and heavy armor, moved with a surprising grace, placing each heavy step with immense care. Anya, with her cybernetic leg, was a whisper, her movements precise and silent. We were a team of ghosts, moving through a monster's tomb.

The path to the central container was not a straight line. The cargo bay was a maze of towering stacks of containers, creating a network of narrow, shadowed canyons. Our objective was on a raised platform in the very center of the bay, directly under the sleeping cocoon.

We encountered our first obstacle. A wide chasm, about ten meters across, separated our section of the bay from the central platform. A heavy metal bridge spanned the gap, but it was raised, its controls on the far side.

We all looked at Veda. She gave a curt nod. She was a climber. She unspooled a thin, high-tension wire from her gauntlet, its end a powerful magnetic clamp. With a soft thwip, she fired it across the chasm. It connected to a metal beam with a barely audible click. She began to traverse the wire, hand over hand, her body a dark shape against the void below. She made it to the other side, her boots touching down without a sound. She found the manual release for the bridge. We watched, holding our breath, as she slowly, carefully, turned the crank. The bridge lowered with a series of soft, groaning creaks. Each sound made my heart leap into my throat. I kept my eyes on the cocoon. It remained still.

We crossed the bridge, one by one. The next section was blocked by a heavy piece of fallen machinery, a massive engine block that had crushed a section of the catwalk. It was too heavy to move around. We had to go under it. But it was not stable. The slightest vibration could send it crashing down.

This time, we looked to Jax. He nodded, understanding his role. He got under the massive engine block, his muscles straining. With a low grunt, he began to lift. He did not just shove it. He took the weight of it on his massive armored shoulders, lifting it just enough for us to crawl under, his movements incredibly slow and controlled to avoid the sound of grinding metal. We crawled under, one by one. I was the last. As I cleared it, Jax gently, slowly, lowered the massive weight back into place. Not a single loud noise was made.

We were almost there. The central platform was just ahead. We were halfway across the final catwalk when my System Anathema chose the worst possible moment to manifest.

A rusted water pipe on the ceiling directly above us, a pipe that had been silent for years, suddenly burst.

HSSSSSSSSSSSS.

The sound was not loud, but in the dead silence of the cargo bay, it was like a gunshot. A sudden, sharp hiss of escaping steam filled the air.

We all froze. Every muscle in my body went rigid. My eyes snapped to the cocoon.

It twitched.

It was a violent, convulsive shudder that shook the entire platform it was resting on. The red blip on my minimap flickered erratically. The creature was stirring. It had heard us.

The hissing from the pipe died down as the last of the pressure was released. Silence returned. An absolute, terrifying silence.

We did not move. We did not breathe. We stood like statues, our hearts pounding a frantic, silent rhythm in our chests. Every second felt like an hour. We were waiting for the cocoon to tear open. We were waiting for the monster to emerge.

After a long, agonizing moment that stretched into an eternity, the cocoon settled. The pulsing slowed. The red blip on my minimap steadied. It was still dormant.

We had been lucky. Incredibly, impossibly lucky. We let out a slow, collective, silent breath of relief.

We finally reached the central platform. The container was right in front of us. It was a high-security lockbox, its surface smooth and featureless except for a small electronic keypad.

I knelt down and pulled out my diagnostic tool. This was my job. I interfaced it with the lock. The hacking minigame appeared on my HUD. My task was to bypass the lock without triggering any of the silent, electronic alarms. My fingers danced across the screen, my movements precise and careful.

I solved the puzzle. The screen flashed a silent, green [LOCK DISENGAGED].

With a soft, almost inaudible snick, the lock on the container released.

I reached out, my hands trembling slightly, and opened the heavy lid of the container. Inside, resting on a bed of pristine, black foam, was the [Quantum Crystal Lens].

It was beautiful. A flawless, multi-faceted crystal that seemed to drink the light from our flashlights, leaving nothing but a soft, internal glow. This was it. The final piece of the puzzle. The key to the Exile's Path.

I reached in to take it.

The moment my fingers touched the cold, smooth surface of the crystal, it happened. It was not a loud noise. It was a sound that was worse than any explosion.

A high-pitched, resonant chime.

A single, pure, musical note that seemed to hang in the air, echoing through the vast, silent cargo bay. It was an unforeseen security feature. A final, hidden alarm.

In the center of the platform, the massive, pulsating cocoon began to shake violently. A deep, guttural shriek, a sound that was both a physical noise and a psychic scream, tore through the silence.

The cocoon was tearing open.

The creature was awake.