Chapter 17: The Black-Mouthed Godsnake.

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-(A Smattering of Years Later)-

As a three-toed metallic foot crashed through my Shun Shun Rika, latching onto my face and hurling me through an iron-hard tree like a bullet, a stray thought crossed my mind: *For all the triumphs my Outsider abilities have brought me, they've given me just as much misery.*

Reflecting on that thought as I tumbled, I couldn't help but agree. Shun Shun Rika, supposedly one of my greatest strengths, had a nasty habit of failing at the worst moments. And I couldn't shake the feeling that Gamer's Mind, with its emotional dampening, was to blame. I could only imagine how useless a power like Spiral Energy would be under these conditions. Without Gamer's Mind keeping me calm, I might have ended up more like Shinji than Simon.

I caught hold of a nearby trunk, digging my fingers into the bark, and yanked myself off course just as a giant metallic wing sliced through the steel trees, cleaving through an eight-meter-thick trunk like it was paper. I seized a rigid branch, launching myself at the birdlike mech that had interrupted my inner monologue. I threw a Spin-infused punch, but a metallic wing blocked my path. Hundreds of iron feathers vibrated at subtly different frequencies, sending out waves that collided with my fist, creating an explosion that blasted us both backward.

Spin had fantastic power, but it took me years to use it effectively, and even now it demanded intense concentration. Without a horse or a Stand to channel it, Spin was still the least troublesome of my abilities. Landing on the side of a tree, I pulled two golf balls from my pocket and launched them at the robotic suit. The mech tried to dodge using its foot jets, but it was too slow. Forced to redirect its wings from mobility to defense, it clanged the appendages together, releasing a sonic wave that collided with the near-infinite energy of Spin. The clash lasted a mere two seconds before the melting remnants of the golf balls pierced the mech's chest.

I had no time to celebrate as my precognitive abilities kicked in, warning me of an imminent attack. I dodged, but not fast enough. A thin beam of pure white light grazed my forearm, blasting a chunk of flesh away. I watched dispassionately as red threads shot from the wound, grabbing the dislodged skin and muscle, and pulling them back into place, sealing the injury. Those so-called laser beams were one of the few weapons in my enemy's arsenal that could still harm me significantly. Though technically not lasers, they were superheated carbon particles accelerated to the speed of light.

Kamui, my second most troublesome power, had given me no end of grief. At first, the alien corpse-clothes proved unusable due to sheer embarrassment. When I finally relented and let them rest beneath my skin, they nearly killed my nervous system, draining me of life energy. After much pain and many battles, we reached an understanding. The thread-like lifeform, at least semi-sentient, was fiercely anti-social and had a bizarre code of honor. It drank my blood as payment, lending me strength in return. Though usually silent, in battle it became incredibly active, as if every breathing enemy was an affront to our contract.

I stretched out my arm, aiming at the nearest bird robot, and two dozen red threads shot from my fingertips, latching onto the mech and dragging it in front of me just in time to block another volley of those deadly beams.

Screams echoed from the cockpit as one of my opponents was torn apart by his allies' laser fire. Irritated, I used my psychic powers to dismantle the mech, hurling its components at the remaining enemies, while the Mysterious Being inside plummeted to the ground.

My opponents, a birdlike race called Stymphalians, were descended from dinosaurs and considered themselves the true inheritors of Earth. Even a newborn Stymphalian was as strong as an adult human, and the fully grown ones could easily be called demons. Their civilization was highly advanced, with mechanical exosuits that further amplified their already formidable strength, allowing them to dominate their entire continent.

Their xenophobia made them a nightmare to deal with, but unfortunately, I had no choice. Or rather, they gave me no choice. I was on the fringes of their territory, hunting a Mysterious Being I had been tracking for years: the Black-Mouthed Godsnake. This legendary creature had terrorized dragons in the area for as long as they could remember. After weeks of preparation, I finally managed to trap it, luring it away from its burrow—only for those feathered bastards to attack right at the crucial moment.

A hissing sound, omnipresent and mind-numbing, reverberated through the surroundings, seeping into my brain and freezing my thoughts. About a mile away, a massive gray pillar rose high above the skyline, blocking out the sun as it surveyed the scene below. It opened its mouth wide, revealing an abyssal blackness, and the air shattered as jets of venomous liquid shot from its luminescent fangs, targeting everything in sight.

I wasn't an exception. My precognitive abilities let me dodge the liquid, but even that perfect evasion wasn't enough. I watched as my skin bubbled and blackened where the venom had grazed me. Normally, venom needed to be injected, and even the spitting abilities of certain snakes only affected specific targets. But the Black-Mouthed Godsnake's venom was different—it was corrosive, eating through flesh and steel alike.

As my arm began to heal, blackened flesh flaking off to reveal fresh pink skin beneath, I surveyed the battlefield. Dozens of robotic suits lay in ruins, their pilots choking to death as the Godsnake's venom corroded their metal shells. Among all my Outsider abilities, my fourth one was the most troublesome. It had even broken Gamer's Body.

The skill was greyed out, unusable. It had taken me far too long to realize it. At first, I assumed the injuries I sustained were because the creatures from the Abandoned World were simply stronger than those on the Supercontinent. But eventually, I found the true culprit buried deep in my stats:

**Gourmet Cells (LV 216) – Active**

Strange cells, embodying life energy, savoriness, and a desire for sustenance, injected into the body. They increase the host's regeneration and physical strength but may cause mutation or death if the host's body fails to adapt. These particular Gourmet Cells were generated by a special ingredient.

As I reflected on my predicament, a missile from one of the mechs was launched at me. I reflexively tapped it, storing it in my inventory. A couple of those missiles could flatten a small city, and I had no desire to be hit by one. It would ruin my shirt, and I couldn't afford to keep losing shirts in this cursed land. I opened my inventory and returned the missile to my opponent, Gate of Babylon style, watching as the explosion tore his machine apart and sent him crashing unceremoniously to the deadly forest floor.

Though the Stymphalians were superior to humans in almost every way, they lacked one crucial advantage: numbers. Despite their strength, the ground was littered with their bodies as the Black-Mouthed Godsnake continued its massacre. I had traveled to each of the major continents outside the Supercontinent and found few places where humans could survive. Dragons weren't uncommon; demons roamed freely, preying on the weak and fleeing from the strong; tigers were at the bottom of the food chain; and wolves were little more than grazing animals.

A Stymphalian, unarmored and stealthy, approached from my blind side. I pulled a knife from my inventory, turning just in time to fillet him, separating flesh from bone, feather from skin, and gut from frame, before decapitating him in a matter of seconds. Despite my skill, I had no intention of eating him—I wasn't Pig God, and the thought of consuming a sentient being made me feel the familiar blankness that indicated Gamer's Mind was still working.

With the bird lying in pieces at my feet, I leaped onto one of the tallest trees, which seemed insignificant compared to the towering Godsnake.

Yet, size mattered little now. Rivers of blood flowed from the canyon-like wound in the Godsnake's side, a reminder of our earlier clash. Now, the battlefield was clear—the interrupters lay dead or dying, leaving only the two strongest standing.

A perfect summary of life in the Abandoned World.