Ultraman Legend of the Light Chaser

Run out, and you'll find a whole new world.

For these people, monsters, giants, and aliens are all too far away; even TPC is just a symbol on the horizon. Living in the present is always their top priority. If you talk to them about the fate of humanity, they'll laugh and say you only have eyes for the stars, oblivious to the cost of firewood, rice, oil, and salt, and whether prices have gone up.

But in the face of such a great tide, no one can remain unaffected.

The gray market for "human resources" is favored by shady intermediaries, illegal factories, and even some "new industries" that need human resources. These people, who are not on the customs register, can only be recorded as missing even if something happens to them, and since they are impossible to verify, they become the most suitable prey.

The ship is anchored along the coast of Tierra del Fuego.

This southernmost island is connected to the South American continent.

Across the Strait of Magellan, glaciers, bays, and forests form its soul and spirit. The Ona tribe of Native Americans once lived here, and Magellan regarded their bonfires as a symbol of "welcome to visitors."

This boatload of sardines was also seen by some as a symbol of "the arrival of wealth".

"The tomb keeper will need some time to find the real base, because there are only two Kyrierods there—you and me. Now that we're out here, watching penguins with tourists from all over the world, and finally heading to Antarctica, he'll be confused for a while, because everyone in Punta Arenas seems perfectly normal."

Yu Aiba "visited" the captain's cabin of the sardine can ship, startling the guy who was listening to an old record with his legs up, causing him to lose a shoe. He glanced at the endlessly spinning vinyl record, "blowin' in the wind" abruptly stopped, the unfinished answer drifting in the wind.

“Repeat what you just said,” Aiba Yu said.

The old captain's mind went blank for a moment, then he opened his mouth as instructed and repeated the lyrics he had just hummed: "How many seas must a white dove sail, before she sleeps in the sand."

“You don’t plan to take this ship of people across the sea,” Aiba Yu frowned. “I’m referring to your conversation just now.”

"But he can't reach the real headquarters. The Kirieloids' headquarters will always be the same, and that's behind the Heaven's Gate. The little handmaid is someone I personally trained; she's also an Earthling, a cloned Earthling."

Upon hearing this, the old captain immediately stood up. He grabbed the chair and tried to escape with his foot, which had lost a shoe, but where could he escape? He had just stood up and hadn't even taken his first step when a hand pressed down on his shoulder and forcefully pushed him back down.

He reacted quickly, reaching out to grab the phone, but the receiver flew off into the air in the next second, the phone line snapped with a "snap," and the keypad, along with its plastic casing, flew out, crashing against the wall and scattering across the floor.

"Where are you from? The police station? A special agent?" He stroked his beard, trying to remain calm, but his trembling voice betrayed his true state: "I'm just a boatman, ah... an alien! You're an alien! You're on Earth intending to harm Earthlings, I'm warning you, warning you..."

He suddenly remembered that Punta Arenas, a southern city extremely far from the TPC headquarters, was more like a "lawless land" to the aliens than anywhere else.

"Your call just now!" The hand that was pressing on his shoulder moved to his neck. The old captain could feel his carotid artery being pressed, and his face swelled slightly. The "alien" said sternly, "Who did you call? And repeat what you said about 'handing it over to international waters'!"

"I have deduced and reflected upon countless ancient wars, and whether it be giants or tomb keepers, they all have a special fondness for Earthlings... It's truly astonishing. So, over the past five hundred years, I have observed countless Earthlings and finally presented the god Kirielod with a plan to accept them as believers."

"I'll talk, I'll talk... I'll tell them to hand over these stowaways to international waters, and that will complete the mission. Tell them to give me the coordinates quickly." The old captain tried to pry open the hand that was stuck around his neck, but even though he strained with all his might, and the veins on his forehead bulged, the other person didn't budge.

"You even asked, 'Should I fall down or wait for a boat to pick me up?'"

The old captain added a qualifier before the word "ship," making it "the ship of the kingdom of God."

Noticing the stowaways huddled together like sardines, Aiba Yu naturally focused his attention on the boat operator, and happened to overhear his conversation with his downstream contact.

No human trafficker would be so bold as to dump their "customers" at sea. As long as they want to continue operating and maintain their local influence to attract customers, they must have enough "successful clients" who occasionally communicate with their relatives at home, unless they only intend to make a quick buck and leave.

The profit from this bet must be large enough to at least cover the extravagance and retirement savings of this guy who's been around for years.

"Because everyone's goal can actually be summarized in one sentence: 'to go further.' This could be improving one's life, or realizing one's self-worth—businessmen crave more wealth, and once that wealth becomes a number, they crave social status; once they reach a higher position, they crave a 'dynasty' that lasts for thousands of generations. Politicians are like this, waiters are like this, and even cutting-edge scientists... Few can resist the temptation of 'blazing new trails' and 'making a name for themselves in history,' but do you know what the even greater temptation is?"

As Aiba Yu approached, the cabin lights suddenly went out. The sailor assumed the old captain had finally put him to sleep and didn't react. The old captain, however, thought he was probably at his wit's end. The "alien's" eyes shone unusually brightly in the darkness. He seemed to see a mass of molten lava, and wherever the lava flowed, it would burst into flames.

He felt as if he had been seen through, as if magma had traveled down his eye sockets, into his brain, into his lungs, and burned through his heart. Everything he thought was laid bare before the other man. If there was even half a lie, real flames would pour down on him, like the natives burning a criminal at the stake.

"When they smell the scent of death, you tell them, 'You don't have to die.' At that moment, the instinct for survival can overcome everything. You'll find that humanity has reverted to its animalistic nature, and their dreams and..."

Love is nothing in the face of death.

"You're from outer space, you need these people on this ship, right?" the old captain asked. "I'll tell you the coordinates and the code. This is the fourth time they've asked for people this year. They must have many more over there!"

"Tell me the coordinates this time, the coordinates last time, and all the places where you docked and met with them!"

“The first three times it wasn’t me! We all took the money and ran away after just one trip! I only found out last time that it was my own brother who took the boat. He went off to make his fortune elsewhere under an assumed name. Before he left, he told me that he had enough money to last two lifetimes.”

“He even told you about this road…” Aiba Yu’s tone suddenly softened: “Then he must have also told you where to go and hide your identity.”

"The god Kirieloid can keep them away from the threat of death, extending their lives by hundreds or thousands of years, which is equivalent to immortality in their eyes. Time is wealth, and even the most foolish person can accumulate enough over many years to become the person they aspire to be. Therefore, we will inevitably have countless believers. Even if humanity unites to form the TPC, as long as the TPC cannot achieve this, our god will be worshipped forever."

“He didn’t say exactly, but he mentioned it a few times. He said if he had the money, he’d go to Norway in the summer and Hawaii in the winter. He also loves deep-sea fishing! He might be chasing tuna all over the world right now!” The old captain hurriedly replied, struggling to get his barely breathing out: “'God’s Kingdom' isn’t just something I’m saying. He said the people who were taken away were going to the real God’s Kingdom!”

The "alien" sneered, his voice growing even softer: "Why doesn't he go himself?"

The old captain didn't continue speaking. He paused for a moment, as if he had made up his mind: "Release me, and I don't want the people and cargo on this ship. I'll give you the coordinates when I get to a safe place."

"You have no right to bargain."

“But you definitely need the coordinates.” People who have made a deal with the devil once often do it a second and a third time. The sense of accomplishment and gain from snatching chestnuts from the fire can overwhelm all fear and worry. The old captain said, “I’ll accept it if you kill me. I’ve already prepared myself since I took the job… but don’t even think about getting the coordinates again.”

"...Then you can go to the interrogation room and think about whether you want to talk or not."

"Where is the interrogation room?"

"You'll know when we get there."

"Know? I know nothing! I'm just a boatman!"

"This is my answer. Thirty million years ago, humanity chose Gijera. What I want to tell them is that even without Gijera, humanity would choose something else that satisfies them—something that is neither giants nor tomb keepers. Today it's the god Kirierod, tomorrow it will be other gods. Yes, our gods will also be substitutes. Even if the tomb keepers can wipe out our power on Earth, it won't change this reality. This is determined by humanity itself."

"You can gradually change one person's opinion through influence, but you can't change the diverse thoughts of billions of individuals. This planet, with over two hundred countries and countless ethnic groups, is simply too complex to unify. Even the relatively 'pure' ancient world experienced inevitable fragmentation."

Bottom warehouse.

The can had been opened.

The boy thought it was the food and water delivery people. He wondered why they were here again after they had just delivered dinner. Could it be that the snakehead had a change of heart and had prepared a midnight snack for them?

The dull warehouse began to clamor. Some people were unhappy with the damp environment and hoped that at least some cardboard could be laid down. Others complained that they didn't get enough to eat for dinner and couldn't see a single drop of oil.

The noise continued for a while, then gradually subsided.

Because there was no response from the outside world—the hot-tempered sailor was not one to let insults go unpunished; in the past, if someone shouted at him like that, he would definitely yell back and take the opportunity to kick someone who was feeling down a couple of times to vent his anger.

But even as everyone realized something was wrong and gradually fell silent, only one hatch remained open. No menacing sailors' heads poked their heads in, and they couldn't even hear the low rumble of metal pressing against the ship as it moved.

The outside world was as quiet as a silent play, with only the faint buzzing of voices coming from afar, as if the curtain had fallen halfway through the performance and the audience in the theater were whispering to each other.

"So when the giants returned to their homeland, where do you think the tomb keeper went?"

"I don't care where he went, all I know is that we've lost a base, and we've lost a major source of experimental subjects!"

"There will always be plenty of channels. Leaving aside the fact that those responsible for escorting them are always just low-level thugs, how much they can actually reveal is one thing, and how much the local authorities dare to investigate is another. As far as I know, TPC headquarters doesn't even have the capacity to investigate independently here; they have to rely on local resources. And even if this channel is completely eradicated, as long as the demand remains, countless 'sharks' will swarm in, drawn by the smell of blood—you consider them all Earthlings, but you don't realize that in the eyes of some Earthlings, their fellow human beings aren't even human. This has been, is, and will continue to be true… Sometimes I really pity them."

"My God, we've only just arrived in Tierra del Fuego, we haven't even left South America yet!" The boy followed the crowd out, and the group stared blankly at the empty deck and the familiar mountains and sea in the distance.

Anyone who has paid a large sum of money, measured in annual salary, only to have the person responsible for fulfilling their duties suddenly disappear before even leaving home, would be left completely bewildered.

The boy shouted, "What happened? They just dropped us off in the fire and that was it? He brazenly guaranteed we could cross the Atlantic!"

"So it's over after just crossing the Strait of Magellan? Damn it, give me my money back! I'm going to find them and break their legs!"

"You should worry about getting your legs broken by your family when you get back," the uncle said, pulling him back. "We're unlucky, we might get caught by the police. Don't go down, if the police come, they'll definitely arrest the person who went down first for questioning... We... we'll go behind. Can you dive?"

"I got my finger pinched when I went into the water to catch crabs," the boy answered honestly.

“This time you won’t have to catch crabs,” the uncle said, bending down and shoving him to quietly move from behind the crowd to the other side of the deck facing the sea. He pointed out, “When you jump down later, dive far. If you lose your money, you can say you were robbed. If you get caught, you’ll be the thief.”

The boy thought it made sense, so he obediently moved to the other side, leaned on the railing, and looked down, searching for a safe and inconspicuous entry point into the water. Once he found a spot, he said to the man, "We didn't make it. We're going home with our tails between our legs. Is this what you meant by 'greatest luck' that's gone?"

“Maybe,” the man replied. “My shop is reopening. If you’re tired of making handmade souvenirs, you can come and do odd jobs with me.”

The boy nodded, poised to jump, when suddenly he heard two thuds of footsteps, followed by someone grabbing him. Startled that his escape had been discovered, he panicked for a moment, but when he realized the hand that had grabbed him belonged to the older man, he breathed a sigh of relief and complained, "You scared me to death! What are you doing?"

The man didn't answer; his eyes were fixed on the front, like a seasoned sailor anticipating a storm.

"Of course, there's also the possibility that my plans might fall through."

"After all you've said, I thought you had everything planned out."

"I told you to learn more about this planet's civilization, but you wouldn't. If you did, you'd realize that perfect planning only works on normal people. If the tomb keeper is a fanatic who, regardless of humanity's choices, insists on wiping out everything he dislikes, then I really have no choice but to ask the gates of Heaven to open once."

"According to intelligence... his performance at TPC was normal."

Why are you using your own standards to judge whether an old fossil is normal or not?

The boy strained to lift his head and saw a strange figure standing not far away. He clearly hadn't just arrived; the boy hadn't heard any footsteps. So, he'd been here all along?! The boy didn't remember seeing this person when he looked around earlier!

The man glanced at the two of them, but showed no intention of speaking. He then rummaged in his pocket and pulled out something that looked like a cell phone, but was clearly not quite the same.

Behind him, the half-open door provided the answer.

That was the captain's cabin. The boy didn't know, but the uncle did—he saw a foot behind the door, the foot slumped on the floor, wearing the rubber-soled shoes favored by the ship's sailors.

"What did you do to the people on the ship? Police? No, there aren't any Asian faces among the police in this city!"

The boy's eyes widened in surprise, because the man's attention had been drawn to the uncle's question, and his gaze returned. The boy seemed to have caught a fleeting glimpse of gold.

“It’s good that they’re not aliens,” the man finally said. “You can leave now. I won’t tell anyone.”

Aliens? The boy's heart pounded. Had they encountered something like an alien hijacking their ship, something that seemed so far away before? Was he here to find aliens? He'd heard that aliens could fly and scale walls, so he must be incredibly powerful, right? A storm raged in the boy's mind; he couldn't seem to forget the colors he'd just seen.

The deck creaked and groaned. The boy saw the man turn to leave. As he turned to the side, several beams of light that had been obscured shone through, casting a dark shadow on the man, which made him squint.

"You're here to see the aliens?" He was really leaving when the boy mustered his courage and shouted, "Don't go!"

The man stopped as he had hoped and turned around: "You've seen them?"

The boy had never seen an alien before. He only felt that once this person left, he would never see him again—like an inland lake meeting the free rain. He wanted to ask what the ocean looked like, how far away it was, and how to get there… He hoped to take him with him.

"Take me away!" he shouted. "I...I can work, I'm very good at it, I can do carpentry...I'm hardworking!" The boy was incoherent, and finally only three words remained: "Take me away!"

"Why are you leaving?" Aiba Yu asked.

"I want to make something of myself!" the boy blurted out. "To make something of myself... I have to get out! Get out of here!"

As Aiba Yu approached, the boy could see his face clearly in the dim light—the boy flinched for a moment, then couldn't help but grab the man's arm tightly.