Chapter 124

A figure walked deep into the uninhabited Frost Plains, his footsteps slowly crunching on the ice and snow, one step after another. His body held no warmth, yet it was entirely unaffected. The corpse on his back rotted slowly in the plains’ freezing cold, and with the covering of xenomorph particles, the damage was not severe.

Loch City was already far out of sight, distant as if it had never existed. No one cared about the final outcome of that world.

Hels did not know where he was going. He simply carried Horne across the vast, snowy white continent. When tired, he stopped to rest; when ready, he walked a bit farther. When he spotted Aliens, he dissociated into his Alien form—killing one if there was one, a group if there was a group. As for humans, there were none left here long ago.

What if there was still someone on Earth whom Horne wanted to see from his past?

Hels was no longer Hels. He could not say who he was. The mask on his face was something he had grabbed on his way out of the house, now edged with particles and fused seamlessly to his skin.

He just felt that without Horne, there was no Hels.

Snow coldly covered half of Horne’s face, tiny crystalline flecks dotting his eyebrows and eyelashes. Hels leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then lay beside him and closed his eyes.

Whenever he fell into a deep sleep, the dead Horne awoke in his dreams. That winter in the Frost Plains had been warmer than usual. Snowflakes drifted down lightly, melting into water the moment they touched Horne’s withered skin, gathering on his eyelashes like tears.

Hels tirelessly wiped away his tears, only for another to appear soon after.

Horne was always crying, so sad and reluctant, especially when Hels buried his face close and gazed at him. Tears would well up from the corners of his eyes, sometimes sliding down his cheeks, sometimes from the corners of his mouth.

Plop.

Hels wiped away Horne’s tears again—those memories of pain—and in that instant, he suddenly realized: how could a dead person cry?

In the end, time itself became wreckage.

–

That day, wind whipped behind him, carrying the whistling beat of wings.

More suicidal fools. Hels sighed and scooped up a handful of snow to cover Horne’s eyes.

“Dealing with some trash. Be good, don’t open your eyes. I’ll be right back.”

From a complete human form, he dissociated into countless particles, then reformed into a massive, eerie Alien—all in the blink of an eye.

Air ripped with speed; no Alien could escape Hels’s savage attacks.

But this time, just as Hels charged out, his movements froze in place. He hovered in the air while the other beat its wings and circled midair before landing on the ground.

[Moroz.]

Hels dropped back to the snow, positioning himself between the Alien and Horne, shielding him with his body.

[How do you know who I am?]

The Alien showed no intent to attack, and Hels dropped his guard—he recognized this Alien. He just didn’t understand how it could identify him even after he could transform into an Alien.

[I identify people not by appearance, but by frequency. Besides, I’ve seen your human form. Your mask is in Mikaila’s style.]

[Oh? What is it?]

The two Aliens stood silently on the plains, their heavy chest vibrations forming their exchange.

[You’ve been carrying him for a long time.]

Hels had no interest in extra talk and repeated: [What is it?]

[Is he that important to you?]

The other’s skeletal frame briefly flared open for a moment before slowly contracting. It glanced at the figure behind Hels and continued its low-frequency vibration: [Black Cat is issuing a Kill Order on you. Do you want to kill all the Aliens and humans because of him?]

[None of your business.]

[I have a possible solution. It might save him.]

Save him? Hels froze for a moment, then fell silent, locking eyes with this Alien he called “uncle.”

After a long while, he retracted his aggression. His body dissipated, and when he reappeared, he was back in human form. He walked a few steps to kneel half beside Horne, brushing away the heavy pure white snow and quietly gazing at his pale, rigid face.

Horne’s eyes were already closed—Hels couldn’t bear having those eyes stare at him without a word.

Was it still possible to save him?

“What method?” Hels’s voice was cold and indifferent, hoarse from tearing at his throat after so long without speaking.

[A few years ago, part of the Tau Ceti Star System’s Energy Field was projected onto Earth, finally taking control of the Aliens’ fate.]

“Energy Field?” Hels knew nothing of current Alien affairs. Since Mikaila’s death, he hadn’t cared, just as he didn’t care now about humanity’s survival.

[Yes. It’s a mass of higher-dimensional matter with all the properties of xenomorph particles, yet transcending the particle level. It became the core linking the fate of all Aliens in Earth’s orbit.]

Hels recalled eight years ago, shortly after Horne had taken him in. A white beam had exploded from the distant north that night. He had hallucinated, collapsed, been connected, tried to harm Horne—and ultimately submitted to Horne’s gentleness.

“So?”

[We can use the core’s particles to infiltrate and activate the dead cells in his body.]

Hels frowned, his hand ceaselessly stroking Horne’s icy face. He turned around, his movements slight but defensively staring at the Alien for a long time. What ignited in his eyes was not hope, but anger.

He growled, suppressing his voice: “You mean inject his body full of xenomorph particles?”

Regrow them one by one, using the infinite regeneration of xenomorph particles to revive every dead cell.

[Yes.]

Hels barely contained his rage: “You want to infiltrate his body with your particles? Use me? Have me bring him to your nest, or just watch a human turned into a monster by you?”

His thoughts grew chaotic; his light stroking of Horne’s face quickened. The corpse’s chill slowly cooled Hels’s hand too, the temperature transferring until Horne’s face warmed slightly—then it faded.

The other didn’t answer immediately, just stood silently, waiting for Hels to vent.

Only after a long time did it speak: [Moroz, you are Mikaila’s only lingering thought left on Earth.]

Hels’s breathing quickened, then he suppressed it.

He knew this Alien wouldn’t lie to him. He just didn’t dare bet on the sliver of hope he’d kindled.

It had been over a month. Losing Horne, he had collapsed briefly for a few hours, followed by prolonged silence and suppression.

He seemed overwhelmed by grief, yet more rational and clear-headed than ever.

The Alien’s vibrations continued through the air: [Do you think you’re a monster?]

Fusing xenomorph particles into a human body—did that make a monster? If not, what were Horne’s years of fighting the Ganal government? Would he personally deny Horne’s convictions?

Did such a hybrid count as a monster? If so, did he himself?

But Hels felt more human than humans.

[You can only choose one.]

Uphold the purity of bloodlines, the truths they once believed—or just let Horne live.

Hels’s gaze fell on the rigid face. Ice-cracked skin froze in uneven shades of blue, white, and gray, cracks spiderwebbing across it. Touching it felt like stroking a block of ice.

He calmed down and stayed silent for a long time. The Alien waited nearby, unhurried for an answer.

Finally, Hels asked: “Why help me?”

[I already answered that.]

Hels brushed snow from Horne’s lips, stood, faced the Alien, and asked coldly: “Success rate?”

[It won’t fail.]

“Will he remember who he is after reviving? Remember his past?”

[Yes. Xenomorph particles only activate, they don’t replace. Only basic bodily elements will change partially.]

“Will he still be him?”

[That depends on whether you value his body or his heart more.]

Hels’s lips parted, then closed. Horne hated Aliens so much—he wouldn’t want this. Even if revived, how would he face having xenomorph particles in his body?

Unless… conceal it, deceive, never mention, pretend ignorance.

Just like every day and night these past eight years.

The Snowfield wind was bitterly cold. For the first time in so long, Hels felt temperature again.

“Really possible to save him?” His voice was like self-muttered words.

The Alien said: [When we collaborated, I heard the human government mention this colonel. I’ve seen you protect him even with a gun to my head. That’s Mikaila’s will inherited in you. Moroz, this isn’t coercion—it’s a choice.]

A choice. But the essence of choice was…

“Will he hate me?”

Hels gathered Horne onto his massive black skeleton frame. Wind howled, scattering white snow into the high sky.

They soared over the Frost Plains, heading to the distant Scandinavian Snowforest, to the valley with that beam of light, to an unimaginable future. They crossed hills and craters, traversed the endless pure white continent, and glimpsed a black speck.

That was a new human base perilously close to the Alien nest. From afar, it looked ruined and lifeless, with no familiar figures.

Hels glanced once and didn’t look back.

The rift housing the Alien nest sank into night, only faint gray outlines exposed like subtle wrinkles from continental collision.

He had always heard reports from the new base—this was Hels’s first time seeing the nest’s location. It erased traces of the Snowfield, exposing the land beneath to form a natural snowforest, like the birthplace of a nascent civilization.

They passed through the towering entrance framed by giant trees, straight into the “city” center. At its heart stood the Obelisk reaching for the sky.

The Aliens in the snowforest sensed its arrival. As it landed, they all cleared space.

[They’re afraid of you?] Hels asked.

[They respect me.]

[Why?]

[Frequency.]

The Obelisk responded to its frequency. As they approached, it emitted an eerie green cold light, enveloping them.

That mass of black matter lurked deep underground beneath the Obelisk, layered deep, permeating layer by layer, nearly to the planet’s core.

A cavity both natural and unnatural, a passageway stretching seemingly endlessly, built of stone. The deeper they went, the more everything around twisted—light warped, objects doubled.

Hels carried Horne, his steps growing laborious.

“What is this place?” Hels’s voice echoed in the endless space, stretched into afterimages.

[The entrance. This area doesn’t open to those whose frequencies don’t match. Follow me, and the interference will be minimal.]

The moment they entered the vast space, the black particles inside trembled like an eternally beating heart, contracting and expanding, bursting into looping beams. Low frequencies eroded the ground from below, making the whole space pulse with some rhythm.

Was this the source of that beam that struck the north years ago?

“How do we do it?” Hels held Horne before the encircling particle energy. He stared intently at the particles; even his own body reacted as if summoned to dissociate, but he held back.

[You’re very strong.]

Hels frowned: “What do you mean?”

[Almost no Alien can face it directly and stay calm.]

Strong? If he were strong, things wouldn’t have ended like this. Hels laughed shortly, then went cold: “Don’t waste time.”

[Approach it.]

Hels followed the Alien’s instructions, stepping closer to the energy mass. Sensing the lifeform, it surged toward him.

“How long?”

[Maybe decades. Maybe centuries.]

So long? Too long…