Fated to Die to the Player, I'll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship!-Chapter 100: Something’s Wrong With Me

After that, we did one final set of 50 laps to acclimate.

Eva—in my body—had finally gotten used to the intense sensations caused by high-G maneuvers. I assumed the main reason she felt unwell before was due to the drastic contrast between her and my perspectives—my body, being a male, was noticeably larger and taller than hers.

With that, all of our preparations were complete.

The cleanup following the Astoria-Meyers war had been wrapped up long ago. The citizens of the star system, along with traders, mercenaries, and transporters, had all gone back to their everyday lives, as though the conflict never even occurred.

That also meant the Warp Portal was operational once more.

It was currently five hours before the Aegis Grand Prix Finals began, and two hours before the mandatory final check-in of the racers and their machines—when suddenly, an issue arose.

[Error. Cassandra Meyers isn't registered as the Range Falcon's pilot.]

"..."

Just as the three of us returned to the Range Falcon, intending to ride a free warp route to the Aegis Star System's racing venue—we were met with a sudden obstacle.

I couldn't pilot the Range Falcon.

Well, it should've been obvious with a bit of forethought. After all, I wasn't in my own body right now, and I hadn't granted Cassandra permission to act as the ship's pilot either.

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"Eva, please..."

Left with no alternative, I turned to Eva and asked her to take the controls.

She was occupying my body, the one Percy officially recognized as the designated pilot. Although Cassandra—currently in Eva's body—technically had enough command clearance, piloting a battleship like the Falcon was far beyond her abilities.

"Don't worry," Eva said with a confident grin upon noticing my concern. "I figured something like this might happen, so I practiced a bunch."

Previously, she struggled to even make the Falcon budge. It wasn't nearly as straightforward as controlling a smaller ship.

But apparently, during my rest, she had spent the hours wrestling with the controls and getting the hang of them. Now, she could maneuver the Falcon as smoothly as she did her Frigate.

And just like she claimed, Eva's handling of the massive Range Falcon was impressively stable. While it wasn't polished enough to qualify as battle-ready, her navigation was precise—so much so that I had no real criticisms to offer.

Once she had full control, Eva piloted the Falcon toward the Warp Gate, joining the ranks of thousands of ships queued up in front of the massive portal.

Soon enough, the moment arrived.

The Warp Portal activated, and as though some switch had flipped, all the docked ships began to move in unison. They entered the shimmering gate one after another, traveling through it seamlessly and emerging in the Aegis Star System without delay.

As usual, the instant the ships exited the gate, they began jumping across space, completely ignoring the proximity of other vessels.

Eva panicked for a second when the Falcon was rocked by space quakes caused by the overlapping, synchronized jumps of the surrounding ships—but she quickly regained control.

Honestly, someone really needs to teach those guys some space-lane etiquette!

"Percy, set a series of warps to the 15th Planet, Fraxin."

[Command confirmed. Setting warp points... Calculating distances... Complete.]

Once we cleared the traffic zone, Eva issued a command.

Thanks to the newly installed Short-Distance Warp Module, our travel time had been drastically reduced compared to standard hyperspace jumps—at least twice as fast, if not more. We sliced through space, covering several AUs in mere moments, and reached our target planet within minutes.

We had to exploit this module while we still could, since we'd be losing access to it for good after winning the GP—but we'll be getting something more convenient in exchange.

Upon arriving in orbit around Fraxin, we made our way to the usual location—the Orbital Observatory hovering at 100,000 kilometers above the planet's surface.

Unlike the preliminaries, however, the docks were nearly overflowing. The demand was so high that some ships had to dock at different planets and were being shuttled to the venue in waves.

"As expected, the Finals drew in a far bigger crowd." I sighed in amazement at the sight of hundreds of thousands of ships occupying space like a sea of metal.

Of course, we didn't have to worry about being rerouted to some distant dock—we were official participants, after all.

{Mr. Arthur Grail and his company, confirmed. Please follow the arrows to your designated docking area.}

As soon as Eva hailed the orbital station, they instantly identified the Falcon and even provided us with a clear navigational path. Following the blue arrows that appeared on the main visor, we headed toward our assigned dock.

Except... calling it a "dock" felt like a massive understatement.

Compared to the space we were allotted during the preliminaries—just enough to fit a single Frigate—this dock was enormous. It could easily accommodate a Leviathan-Class warship without breaking a sweat. It was absurdly oversized for our needs!

At first, I couldn't wrap my head around why we were given such a colossal docking space. After all, the race ships were all Frigate-sized... Then, it hit me.

For most participants, it was expected that their ships would crash or sustain damage during the race. That's why they didn't just bring spare parts—wings, thrusters, stabilizers—they brought entire duplicate models of their race ships!

They came fully prepared.

Unlike us... who didn't even have a single replacement part to swap in.

"We're sticking out like a sore thumb right now, probably."

Since our dock was literally on the furthest corner, we had to pass by several other groups on our way in. They must've seen us—only bringing a single "mothership" of battleship class—and thought we were either overly confident or just downright broke.

"Well, can't do anything about that now."

With just a few hours remaining before the main Race began, our top priority was to finish the final checks on our ship and get it over with.

As the officially designated race pilot, I had to guide the Hunter Frigate through a simple passage built into one wall, leading directly to the race's staging and waiting area.

Once we arrived, I was instructed to disembark and lock the controls. The ship's inspection team immediately began a detailed scan of all its systems and components—a far more thorough process than what we experienced during the preliminaries.

"Hmm?"

That's when I noticed something off.

The booth right beside us had just received a ship, and the station's inspectors had already started scanning. Then—barely a minute passed—and they were done. Yes, it took longer than during the preliminaries, but still... Why is our inspection taking so long?

It had already been ten minutes, and they were still running scans—raising a serious red flag in my mind.

I grew curious, and slightly concerned, so I walked forward and spoke to the officials. "Pardon me, sirs and madams, but is something wrong? May I ask what's taking so long with our inspection?"

"Stop."

Before I could even get close, two towering figures stepped out and blocked my path.

Judging by their bulky, stone-like appearances—like they were carved from slabs of jagged rock—they were definitely Gulaks. A race known across the systems for their immense durability... and infamously short tempers.

Even if I were in my own body, I wouldn't risk messing with them. The Gulaks had a very unique way of interpreting things, often misunderstanding even polite questions as direct provocations—like hypersensitive boomers, really.

Except instead of yelling, they expressed their rage with literal one-ton slaps to your face.

"...!"

As soon as they ordered me to stop, one of them already launched a palm strike at my face. Thankfully, Cassandra's body had amazing reflexes. I ducked down just in time as the giant hand whooshed over my head, displacing the air with a loud whomp.

Had I been even a second slower, my skull would've exploded like an overripe melon.

"Bastards!!!" I growled, yanking the blaster hanging from my belt. "You threw the first hit—don't blame me for what happens next!"

I leveled the blaster at the weak point on their body—the glowing crystal nestled in the center of their chests. It was hidden beneath layers of thick armor, sure, but I hadn't forgotten how to take them down.

Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger. A white-hot laser beam burst out, striking the Gulak square in the crystal.

*CRACK!*

A sharp, clean sound echoed as the one who had attacked me dropped to the floor, his crimson eyes dimming to black. He was... dead.

"..."

And that's when the weight of what I'd just done hit me.

"This is Officer T-Gray at Hangar 5056! Hostile confirmed! Officer Crangle is down—presumed KIA! Requesting immediate backup!"

"Don't move! Drop your weapon and raise your arms above your head!"

"Put your hands behind your head, NOW!"

As if on cue, several more officers—also Gulaks—emerged from the shadows, weapons drawn and pointed directly at me. My eyes quickly scanned their uniforms, noting the badges on their chests. Without a doubt... they were legit.

"Fuck..." I muttered under my breath, reluctantly preparing to raise my hands—

*ZIIIIN!*

A sudden shot rang out, blasting the blaster clean from my hand. It clattered to the floor behind me, spinning wildly as I clutched my hurt hand.

"STOP! I SAID, DON'T MOVE!"

"HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD! DON'T MOVE!"

"THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!"

Their shouting filled the hangar, their blasters unwavering as they trained them all on me. This situation was spiraling fast into something deadly—and completely out of control. But strangely, despite the pain, I felt my lips curl into a smile.

"Then what do you want me to do?" I said, voice low and sharp. "I can't exactly put my hands behind my head without moving, can I, geniuses?"

"Stop talking back!"

"Bitch, you really shouldn't have provoked us!"

Two of the five snapped, their eyes blazing with rage... but they wouldn't stay angry for long.

"Idiots..."

I muttered, letting out a sigh before I fixed my glare on the two loudest ones.

"Both of you—kill every single officer who's pointing a weapon at me. Then eliminate anyone on that fake inspection committee who might pose even the slightest threat."

My voice was calm, razor-sharp, and utterly cold. There was no hesitation in my tone—only rising fury... and some other emotion. I couldn't see myself, but I was sure my expression had twisted into a cruel grin.

The enemies looked confused at first, but—

*ZIIIIN!*

Without pause, the two Gulak officers I'd commanded suddenly turned on their comrades—slaughtering everyone else in sight without mercy.

I stood in place, unmoving, watching the massacre unfold before me without a single flinch. The corners of my lips rising further...

Wait...

What the hell am I doing?