Ultraman Legend of the Light Chaser

He said, "I was so angry that I hit it a few times, and it stopped moving." How could an ordinary person kill it? And was the real source of his infection the "observation patient" arranged by the church? Aiba Yu had never heard of anyone being infected just by looking at a monster. If it were that powerful, then monsters would be running rampant in another universe long ago. Moreover, Dr. Tsukishiro's research found that many people in the TPC have genes that naturally resist it.

Perhaps the real source is this "parrot".

As for the origin of the "parrot"... he turned his head to look at number twelve.

The clone, a girl who looked remarkably like Paradya but had a completely different personality, collapsed to the ground upon seeing the "parrot's" face. She let out a sharp, mournful howl, each breath seeming as if she were squeezing all the air out of her lungs and expelling her heart. She pressed her face tightly against the ground, the musty smell filling her nostrils, so her sobs were occasionally mixed with coughs.

"Where is the headquarters of the Kirieloids?" Aiba Yu looked down at her: "Things that are too easy usually have traps, but if you know where the headquarters is, I'm willing to go even if it's a trap."

Chapter 174 Blowing in the Wind (10,000 words)

Across the Pacific Ocean, at the southern tip.

The westerly winds and the Antarctic high pressure bring in cool, moist air and fierce winds, accompanied by...

The steamship whistles, and the rising sun shines over the glacier, illuminating Magellan's toes. Tourists rise early to board ships in Porto Natales, heading to Magdalena Island for a "tuxedo rendezvous"—this is the morning in the world's southernmost city.

“Magellan, Magellan, Magellan everywhere,” the man in the brown-brimmed hat sniffed the cold wind and sneezed several times. “Don’t they have any other way to commemorate a great man? Monuments, sculptures, even a replica of his exploration ship! He’s just a ‘discoverer,’ he didn’t even build this place!”

“Don’t use our language in public,” the man in the wool coat glared at him. “Also, be more tolerant of the habits of other civilizations.”

“If you can’t understand it, it’s a foreign language. There are over two hundred countries on this planet. Do you know if the person walking towards you is speaking Earth language or some remote alien language?” The man in the rolled-brimmed hat rubbed his chubby nose, his eyes darting left and right before finally settling on a mermaid sculpture: “Oh… we could have more of these kinds of ‘commemorative’ things.”

Before them stood the nautical sculptures along the Strait of Magellan. Besides the ubiquitous figures of Magellan and his sailors found in various commemorative sculptures throughout the city, two mermaids stood by the ship—fantasy creatures always attract attention, and aliens were no exception. The man in the rolled-up hat perked up: "Are there really such creatures on this planet?"

“There isn’t one right now, but if you really like it, we could consider making one,” the wool coat urged him. “Hurry up, our disloyal ‘maid’ has finally escaped. She’s determined to direct the tomb keeper here. You’d better catch this ship, or I can’t guarantee your safety.”

"Why don't we just stay in the base instead of braving the cold wind like clumsy Earthlings to catch the ship?" The sea breeze was particularly unpredictable today; even with his rolled-up hat pressed against his head, he still felt as if someone was vying for control of the hat. He bid a reluctant farewell to the mermaid, then turned back, annoyed, and said, "Let the tomb keepers come; we weren't planning on hiding anyway, were we?"

“Kiri Elord God never taught you to confront the enemy head-on when it’s not necessary. We have better weapons,” the wool coat said. “The last fool who did that is nowhere to be found now, along with the magical realm of Lion’s Nose Tree Sea, bombarded into mud at the bottom of a pit by TPC shells.”

He pointed to the ship that was sounding its horn to urge the tourists to quicken their sluggish pace. Through the glass on the third deck, they could see the captain, a man with a cigarette in his mouth, staring back at them.

“This ship will take a group of tourists to Magdalena Island for a two-day stay, and then take tourists who want to go on an Antarctic expedition to the southernmost continent of this planet,” the wool coat said. “Relax, you’re here for tourism. From now on, speak English, French, Spanish, or any Earth language you can speak.”

“Then I’ll speak Madagascar.” The rolled-brim hat is annoying, and when you’re annoyed, you tend to argue.

“Very well, then you’re of Madagascar descent. How did you become a white person with a German passport? You can make that up yourself,” the man in the wool coat said, too lazy to continue arguing with him. He simply instructed, “The angry tomb keeper will turn this city upside down. You’d better behave yourself. Do what the other tourists do.”

The man in the rolled-brimmed hat glanced at his child hanging on the railing and the crowd excitedly discussing penguins, and muttered, "Well, I should talk about penguins too? Are there penguins on Magdalena Island?"

"Yes, it's called the Magellanic Penguin," said the man in the wool coat.

The man in the rolled-brim hat spat and cursed, "...Magellan is everywhere!"

……

Shortly after the ship set sail, a few kilometers away, the deserted beach welcomed its first visitor of the morning.

Yu Aiba.

He tugged at the wrinkles in his clothes, leaving a trail of footprints on the damp sand that led into the city of Punta Arenas. Behind him, the sun-golden waves carried the long cries of waterbirds.

The trip to Punta Arenas was opposed by Number Twelve, but few could change Aiba Yu's mind once he decided to do something.

"The reason the base was chosen in Punta Arenas is because TPC's organization there has almost no power!" Number Twelve said. "If they can manage one Magic Realm, they can manage countless others. From what I know, the base was there more than a hundred years ago, when the world was still in chaos due to the World War! 'Father' even sat down and drank with Magellan, the Magellan who is written into your textbooks!"

“Then I have to go and check. I came back too late and didn’t know that guests had been staying for so long. It’s my fault.”

Aiba Yu reported on the Yoshikawa family's situation, and then dialed Sato's number again.

"Don't take advantage of being able to send me informants to keep making these harassing phone calls!" As soon as the call connected, Sato's voice squeezed out from the other end of the line: "What is it now?!"

“There’s also an informant,” Aiba Yu said. “Do you have enough isolation rooms?”

"You're sending me to the isolation room?" Number Twelve stared wide-eyed in disbelief. She had mentioned the Kirieloid base; even if she wasn't going to be released, surely she shouldn't be locked up again? Was this guy's friendly attitude earlier just a facade?

“Those of us in this line of work have to minimize risks,” Sato replied on the other end of the phone. “The isolation rooms are full, so we can only squeeze those crows’ heads in a little more.”

"It's not your interrogation isolation room, it's the research center's. They called you..."

"It's because Yuecheng definitely won't have time to answer."

"Research centers? There are quite a few."

After hanging up the phone, Aiba Yu said to Number Twelve, who was filled with horrific images of himself being dissected upon hearing the word "research," "If there's any place in the world that's the safest, it's definitely the isolation room at the Life Science Research Center—as long as no more 'Tango Yuji' or 'Sanada Ryosuke' emerge."

Number Twelve naturally didn't know who Dango and Sanada were. She only knew that she seemed to have nowhere else to go except that isolation room. Although the tomb keeper didn't shout for help, he stood firmly at the entrance, blocking the exit. He had no intention of letting her escape.

“But that’s a research center, and I don’t want to be a guinea pig,” said Number Twelve.

“Okay,” Aiba Yu nodded, then suddenly said, “as long as you can explain the source of this light on your body.”

"Light?"

“Tiga’s aura? I don’t remember his human form ever coming into contact with you.”

……

As Aiba Yu walked along the beach in Punta Arenas, searching for suspicious locations, another name kept swirling in his mind: Amui.

Who is he?

According to Number Twelve, he was also a clone bred by the Kirieloids, but he didn't remember such a person existing in the ancient times.

He walked with his head down, exhaling a long breath. Even obstacles could not block his view, and he could easily see the small animals and rock beds under the beach. This place was truly "paradise." If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, who would believe that so many creatures lived under such a flat and clean beach?

He realized that he had indeed been "away" for too long, long enough for more "animals" to hide below, long enough for the guests to take over.

From the beach to the edge of the city, he saw no aliens in his field of vision, which only made him more and more vigilant.

Because of the usual large number of tourists, the residents are not sensitive to unfamiliar faces, especially since Aiba Yu deliberately changed out of her TPC uniform. The residents' lives begin at sunrise, proceeding in an orderly fashion: vendors tidy up their carts, workers head to the pier, young housewives open their sea-facing windows, and tourists humming tunes stroll by in twos and threes.

"Where is it?" Everything was peaceful and serene, as if this really was just a tourist city by the sea.

“Even the tomb keepers would have to search for a while to find a base that has been operating for a century.” Wearing a woolen coat and a rolled-up hat, he stepped down the gangway. The ship had arrived at Magdalena Island, which was covered with Magellanic penguins.

The crowd rushed out like madmen, and the tour guide waved a small flag behind them, trying to stop the tide of enthusiasm so as not to frighten the penguins.

The wool coat and rolled-brim hat walked slowly through the crowd, looking out of place.

The man in the rolled-brimmed hat, his perpetually sour face, certainly stood out among the delighted tourists: "After a century of operation, why abandon it so easily? This isn't the magical Lion's Nose Tree Sea; it was built to the standards of a 'stable base,' barring any unforeseen circumstances..."

“If nothing unexpected happens, it will become the bridgehead for the gods to descend,” the woolen coat interrupted him. “But the biggest surprise is that the tomb keeper has awakened. He was just a stone, sleeping for 30 million years. Everyone was thinking about how to move this stone into their own spaceship without disturbing R'lyeh, but he has awakened and is even more powerful than before.”

“We are also more powerful, and I don’t believe a newly awakened fossil can defeat our gods,” said the man in the rolled-brim hat, “not even a finger of a god.”

“He’s not just a fossil, he’s also a ‘friendly Earth monster.’ God won’t lay a hand on someone the believers have a liking for, unless he’s tempted by Satan and commits a crime.” The man in the wool coat raised his arm and pointed forward.

The mountains across the sea are covered in a layer of snow. When winter comes, this white snow will grow into an ice sheet, burying the precious mosses and meadows of the polar region. At that time, these plump, black and white creatures will swim across the sea like fish to find untouched green meadows to build their nests and reproduce.

“Look at them,” the overcoat said. “Even lower intelligent beings know to seek advantage and avoid harm, let alone humans… Hundreds of years ago, Ferdinand Magellan’s fleet arrived here. At that time, not many people believed that this planet was round, but he did, and he was on a circumnavigation of the globe.” “He was a rare character,” the overcoat said. “I told him that there were fierce westerly winds blowing here all year round, and that giant waves could break his masts, capsize his ship, and throw him and his sailors into the sea to feed the sharks, the whales, and all the marine life that passed by. He said, ‘I came here riding on such storms. Since I haven’t died and have seen this campfire, it means I can go on and go further. When I achieve my dream, I will come back here, and then you can tell me—why are you here?’”

“But he died on the ‘eve’ of completing his voyage, and there were no ‘Spaniards’ on the Philippine islands who didn’t mind Catholicism to introduce him to a safe place to stay.” He lowered his hand, and the wind blew from Tierra del Fuego, cold and biting, far less human-like than the wind mixed with the blue smoke of daytime.

On the night he crossed the strait, Ferdinand Magellan saw the campfire of the natives on the shore and named the island Fireland. It was here that he met the mysterious "Spaniards," who pointed him to an island where they could rest. They replenished their food and water and set off again.

"Over five hundred years have passed, and I have seen many figures like him. Undeniably, there are many outstanding individuals among the people of Earth. People admire them, aspire to be like them, and name all sorts of things associated with them after them, just like this city. 'Magellan' is everywhere."

Even though he has been dead for five centuries.

"But I know that there are more mortals on this planet—so what if Magellan completed his circumnavigation? He forced the natives to believe in God, interfered in their struggles, burned their houses, and killed their fellow citizens. He deserved to die, so he was killed like a wild boar on an island in the Philippines."

Just as the man in the rolled-brim hat was about to reply, he realized something was amiss.

Forcing faith and killing fellow human beings—from an Earthling's perspective, isn't this what the Kirieloids are also doing? What does "deserve to die" mean? This is called saving a primitive civilization from fire and water, letting them board a better ship!

The man in the wool coat noticed his furrowed brows and guessed what was going on. He continued, “These outstanding people are not perfect. What I consider ‘outstanding’ is that they accomplished what ordinary people could not. I rarely see the word ‘seeking profit and avoiding harm’ in them. They like the storms, like mad swallows chasing rain clouds—such people are ultimately a minority. Most people are happy to hoard wealth and consolidate their position. If they can go further, they can sell anything they can.”

The attempt to patch up the wool coat clearly failed to convince the man in the rolled-brim hat, who stared back at him and said, word by word, "You are truly a qualified Kirieloid."

“Being qualified is enough. The fanatical Kirieloids have become one with our gods, but I haven’t lived enough yet,” the wool coat said. “I am now helping our gods clear away obstacles.”

"The way to clear obstacles is to abandon the base? Last time it was the Lion's Nose Forest, this time it's Punta Arenas, where will it be next? Are you going to hand over the keys to the Gates of Heaven?"

“It’s not impossible,” the man in the wool coat raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get angry right away. Sit down. We have plenty of time. I’ll explain it to you properly.”

……

As the sun set, Aiba Yu, who was almost dizzy from searching, finally discovered a clue.

Ship.

The ships that are everywhere in this city are like scattered, mobile outposts.

They roam the seas year-round, sailing north, west, or east along the South American coastline. Some remain on the high seas, their lights burning all night, men rolling cigarettes on women's laps, then drinking a glass of margarita, using the salt frost representing tears to symbolize their devotion; others head straight for the west coast of Europe, that bay symbolizing wealth and abundance—even now, with the establishment of the TPC and the unification of humanity, development in different places remains vastly different.

Where there is a gap, there will be aspirations, which will give rise to corresponding industries: working, studying abroad, and ubiquitous intermediary agencies.

The first thing he noticed was a "sardine can," a ship's hold piled high with fresh, frozen seafood, crammed with a group of people like sardines in a can.

"Undocumented immigrants," he sighed inwardly.

Where there is a business opportunity, there will be people to take it. If there is the possibility of making huge profits, even more people will flock to it, even if the "cost" is enough to make people go bankrupt or even lose everything.

"I have to go out and earn money." In the crowded basement, the boy spoke in a low voice to the person next to him. His shoulders and back were pressed tightly against the clothes of the other people. Even the slightest movement of his neck drew angry glares from the people around him.

“I only sell handmade souvenirs and I want to stay in my hometown for the rest of my life. I want to go to a farther place, to a place where there is gold everywhere, like the ‘gentlemen’ who come to my shop, wearing respectable suits, going wherever they want, with their suitcases full of other people’s souvenirs,” the boy said. “I want to buy authentic jerseys and shoes, preferably with the autograph of a big star, and I want to hang them in the most conspicuous place in the shop, but they are too expensive.”

"You got on this ship just to buy autographed jerseys and sneakers?" The middle-aged man next to the boy grinned, revealing a mouthful of smoked teeth. "If I were your parents, I'd break your legs."

“When I become a big boss, they won’t even have time to be close to me,” the boy said dreamily. “We’re going to Iberia. I can find a job on a farm or in a processing plant first. If I don’t need my skills, I can do manual labor. Once I’ve made some money, I can open my own shop and eventually bring my parents over… If I don’t get citizenship in the end, I’ll come back. That’s called returning home in glory. As long as you make money, it doesn’t matter where you are.”

The middle-aged man chuckled twice but didn't reply. There was nothing to refute; the boy's words reflected his own sentiments, and those of everyone in this warehouse—changing one's destiny is never easy, nor can it be achieved solely through perseverance and effort. It requires opportunity and luck; if there is no opportunity, then create one yourself.

As for luck... if the ship arrives safely and is not discovered by the coast guard, that would be the greatest luck.

The hold was stuffy, crowded, dark, and damp. They would have to stay in such a place for several days before being released into the port like frozen fish. The smuggler had taken care of everything, and then they would have to disperse and run away.