Fated to Die to the Player, I'll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship!-Chapter 146: Titanium Gambit

With how vast and boundless the universe is, coming across one or two mysterious alien lifeforms that are immune to conventional weaponry isn't all that surprising... But finding one that can reflect our attacks with pinpoint precision? That's a first for me.

Moreover, judging by how the laser came flying exactly back to the turret that fired it, this wasn't just a matter of simple reflection, like light bouncing off a polished surface.

No—this was something else entirely.

The trajectory of the original laser should have caused the rebound to veer off to the side at an angle, but instead, it reversed direction and returned to us—straight, sharp, and deadly accurate.

And if that wasn't bad enough—

"That thing just looked at us..." I whispered, a chill running down my spine.

It wasn't obvious at a glance, but I could feel it. Somehow, I just knew. Its pair of piercing red eyes were locked onto our ship—the one that dared to attack it first.

In that moment, my instincts screamed louder than reason. We weren't getting out of this without a fight.

Thankfully, due to our proximity to the Juvenile Void Dragon, the other aliens were still keeping their distance. It would take them a few more minutes to reach our location. We had, by some grace, bought ourselves a brief window to assess the situation.

Well... we should have had more time.

"...!"

The next second, the massive, urchin-like creature stirred. And as I had feared, it began to spin rapidly on its axis before lunging in our direction—moving fast.

I couldn't see any thrusters or appendages to propel it, but that didn't matter now. We've long stopped questioning how aliens "fly" through the vacuum of space. It was just happening.

Its speed? Estimated at nearly 10% the speed of light, according to the computer's real-time calculations. That meant we had barely 70 seconds before it caught up.

"Spread out!" I shouted without hesitation.

The fleet didn't waste a moment—every captain must've seen the same thing I did.

All ships fired their thrusters at full capacity, engaging emergency overdrive at 1,000% output as they tried to scramble and flee from imminent doom.

Like a hive of disturbed hornets, the ships scattered in every direction, desperately trying to put as much space between each other as possible. Naturally, I did the same, pulling the ship "up" and away in an attempt to break away.

"Shit!"

But all I could do was curse under my breath as I saw the creature's path shift—adjusting mid-flight.

Its trajectory was now clearly tracking us. It was following us with terrifying precision. We were the target. We were the prey!

The other ships seemed to notice this as well, and immediately altered their own paths—away from us.

Cowards. Heartless bastards, every last one of them. But... I couldn't blame them. In fact, them sticking close wouldn't have helped either way.

No matter.

I abandoned the thought of relying on them and doubled down.

I pushed the ship's systems beyond safe thresholds, boosting our speed with everything we had. I even broke the jump drives to assist the thrusters, tearing through space faster than before. Within a minute, we'd reached a speed to match the monster—10% of light speed.

With this, I hoped we'd gain some breathing room...

"Arthur!" Eva's voice rang out suddenly, cutting through the tense silence. "I just got reports from the other ships. They said the axis of the urchin's rotation is glowing a bright red, seemingly unstable!" ƒreewebɳovel.com

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" I snapped, still glued to the floor pedals, forcing every ounce of acceleration we could muster. "We need solutions, not bizarre light shows!"

Eva didn't hold back either, yelling right back at me. "Idiot! I'm telling you—it might be its weak point!"

"..."

In countless games, invincible boss monsters often became vulnerable during specific attack animations or after triggering particular events. Maybe this was similar. Some needed flags to be hit before damage could land, others simply needed the right timing.

It was a gamble—but worth the shot.

"Alright then! Tell them to aim directly for the center! Focus fire on that glowing axis!" I ordered quickly. "Make sure they use different types of weapons—lasers, railguns, missiles! Keep the number of attackers limited at first, in case it pulls another trick!"

Naturally, weapons like radiation beams and lasers, which move at the speed of light, would strike first. But railguns and missile salvos would take longer and had limited range. Those ships would need to speed up and close in before firing.

Regardless, as the urchin creature chased us relentlessly, I circled around, trying to steer toward the rift once again.

However, as if predicting our intention, the urchin maneuvered to intercept, positioning itself directly along our projected path—blocking access to the only known exit.

With no other option, I had to continue circling, establishing what resembled a stable orbit, all while looking for any vulnerability—any opening to exploit.

After a few intense minutes of this cat-and-mouse flight, I spotted several allied ships drawing close. They were flying in tight parallel with the massive entity, keeping a calculated distance.

And only now—seeing them right next to the creature—did the terrifying scale of it truly hit me. The ships, which were formidable in their own right, now looked no larger than specks of dust—tiny flies buzzing beside a titanic, otherworldly behemoth.

Then, in the next moment, the bombardment began.

Missiles, lasers, ion cannons, gamma rays, and even mass accelerators—railguns—firing dense metal slugs toward the target. All attacks were conservative, aimed precisely at the "hub" of the urchin, where its rotational axis—like a spinning wheel—was located.

Moments later, an explosion erupted—and no, it wasn't the alien that got blasted apart.

It was the ships that had initiated the attacks.

The level of damage varied, but those that used energy-based weapons suffered the most. Their shield systems overloaded catastrophically. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say they were effectively out of commission just from that single exchange.

The next to be reflected were the missiles, or rather, the explosions they caused. Since the warheads themselves weren't sent flying back, the impact was minimal—just a slight decrease in shield saturation, barely noticeable.

"An attack managed to land!"

Finally, some good news amidst the chaos.

"The railgun hit! A 500-kilogram titanium alloy slug scored a direct hit on the creature!"

"That's progress, at least!" I exclaimed with a grin, adrenaline surging.

Still, we couldn't jump to conclusions. Maybe it wasn't just physical attacks that worked, since the missile impacts had also been reflected—though partially. Warheads are physical too, aren't they?

And then, just as that thought crossed my mind, something clicked.

A spark of realization.

"Eva! I need a full list of warhead compositions used earlier—specifically, their material makeup!"

"Got it!" she responded instantly, not wasting a second asking questions.

Within moments, a holographic interface flared up in the corner of my HUD, scrolling through the technical specs and component lists of the deployed ordinance.

"Most were made with composite materials—lightweight alloys with anti-radiation shielding," Eva explained as she skimmed.

"Some used cryo-glass tips, while others were encased in specialized plastic polymers." She paused briefly. "But one ship reported that its missile wasn't reflected, and its warhead was capped with a titanium cone!"

"Knew it...!"

That was it. The alien's weakness wasn't just about physical damage—it was titanium! The element itself disrupted the creature's strange abilities.

"Have more ships fire using titanium-based projectiles!" I ordered immediately. "Preferably railguns—get more data and see if the effect is consistent!"

"I thought you'd never ask!" Eva shot back, already relaying the orders with rapid precision.

She didn't just repeat my command. She expanded it—detailing timing, angles, positioning, types of weapons, and specific impact points for maximum effectiveness.

Out of more than 180 ships, only 20 had access to titanium-based armaments—either as railgun ammunition or specialized warheads. The rest of the fleet pivoted to deal with the swarm of smaller aliens that had just caught up to our location.

The minute that followed was nothing short of intense.

The urchin was bombarded repeatedly, struck from multiple angles. Each impact was carefully monitored. Eva was watching like a hawk, analyzing the creature's reactions and measuring the varying effectiveness of each type of titanium-based assault.

But despite the barrage, the results were disappointing.

None of the attacks seemed to penetrate or even faze the monster. It didn't flinch, didn't slow down—it just kept charging, fixated on our ship, the Black Halberd, with relentless aggression.

Then Eva finished her analysis.

"The creature is generating a powerful, dynamic magnetic field using three of its spines—each one a different color!" she began to explain, eyes locked on her monitors.

"This field is so intense, it warps space and bends light itself, reflecting it back at the source. Same applies to anything with mass or energy!"

"...And the titanium?" I prompted urgently.

"Yes, that's the anomaly," Eva continued with a nod. "This magnetic field appears to destabilize—almost melt down—when it comes into contact with pure titanium. The interaction with its outer electron shell produces chaotic interference patterns, breaking the field's harmony."

"That's it!" I gasped. "That's the key! That's our ticket out of this mess!"

"I agree," Eva said, voice tight with focus. "But the issue is—we don't have any weapons strong enough to deliver a fatal hit, even if they're made of titanium."

"Yeah... we don't have one," I agreed, before a grin spread across my face. "But we can build one!"

I quickly brought up the console and began assembling a set of override instructions. The idea was simple in theory—combine available parts from different systems to create a makeshift superweapon. Mix and match. Improvise.

Eva glanced at the screen and blinked. For a moment, she seemed stunned into silence.

"...This better work," she muttered, half under her breath.

"If the data you gave me is accurate, then it will work. Trust me!" I said confidently.

The twenty ships with titanium supplies went dark, disappearing from the comms as they began reconfiguring their payloads.

Minutes dragged on.

During that time, the urchin started showing signs of rage—its movements became more erratic, its rotation faster.

Worst of all, its speed increased. It was closing in fast, and we were still the target.

I did everything I could to accelerate, to widen the gap—but the ship's engines were already burning at full capacity. In fact, it was starting to overheat.

We couldn't push it any further without tearing ourselves apart.

The distance between us was shrinking, slow but inevitable. It wasn't a matter of maneuvering anymore—the creature was gaining on us.

Now it was dangerously close—less than a hundred meters away.

I could almost see the sharp, rotating spines cutting through space, deadly and silent.

Then—finally—

"The new-type warheads are complete!"

The long-awaited good news reached my ears at last.