Chapter 5: Kindred Spirits?

Ye Mi's fur stood on end in an instant—the Rust Tides were even more sensitive than she had imagined!

She had already kept her distance on purpose, almost at the very edge where she could still observe them. After confirming the Rust Tides’ tracks, she decided to retreat, but even though she’d been that cautious, she was still discovered!

Almost as soon as she realized what was happening, the largest Rust Tide suddenly accelerated, emitting a heavy, droning hum as it charged straight at her.

Ye Mi bolted, feeling the earth quake behind her. Only then did she understand—not all Rust Tides attacked in the same way. This hulking one was nothing like Number 011. It was purely a beast, a rampaging force of destruction, like a runaway truck with no regard for anything in its path.

Fortunately, Ye Mi was small, and in the labyrinthine ruins of the old factory, this gave her a certain edge, buying her precious seconds.

But everywhere the hulking Rust Tide passed was reduced to rubble. Meanwhile, another Rust Tide, bristling with spikes, attacked from the side. In the rain-soaked night, its eyes gleamed red, and its razor-sharp metallic arm slashed through the downpour, thrusting straight at Ye Mi.

“Miaow!”

Ye Mi tumbled clumsily out of the way, the blade grazing her tail and slicing off a tuft of white fur.

Under the crane, the smallest mist-form Rust Tide rushed over as well, though compared to its “parents,” its speed was sorely lacking.

Ye Mi’s heart pounded like a drum as she darted about with bristling fur, the three Rust Tides closing in, their encirclement tightening with every second.

At this rate, she wouldn’t last three minutes!

She had to think of something.

A dozen desperate schemes flashed through Ye Mi’s mind. In the distance, the hulking Rust Tide slowly raised its right arm. The metal of its body reshaped itself into a hammer fully one meter wide.

“If that thing comes down, this kitty will be nothing but a pancake!”

Ye Mi’s pupils contracted sharply.

The Rust Tides’ ring shrank ever smaller, ready to close in on her completely.

Backed into a corner, with only a stack of shipping containers behind her, Ye Mi had nowhere left to run.

The behemoth raised the arm that had become a giant hammer, and as Ye Mi leapt desperately, it smashed down with brutal force—

Bang!

The container caved in like scrap metal. The shockwave alone sent Ye Mi flying, slamming her hard onto another container. Her right forepaw hit first, sending a searing pain through her—likely a fracture.

She couldn’t move.

No, it was worse than that.

Ye Mi tasted warm blood flooding her mouth; the concussive blast had left her with severe internal injuries, every organ screaming in agony as if displaced.

The Rust Tides closed in at a measured pace, three pairs of electronic eyes flickering with icy red light.

The little cat lay limply on the ground, head lolling to the side, as if dead.

But deep in her pupils, an eerie silver light flickered as the writhing symbiote, silent as a slender snake, seeped into the earth.

Abruptly, all three Rust Tides froze, as if their systems had crashed. They did not approach or attack, but only cocked their heads, electronic eyes glowing uncertainly.

Having slipped her cat body, Ye Mi was stunned.

Their forms partially dissolved into a cyclone, merging together. Their three hearts beat in unison, their rhythms syncing, forming some strange resonance.

“So... this is how they communicate?”

The three Rust Tides gathered closer.

Ye Mi readied herself to lunge at the smallest of them, planning to separate her silver body from its host. Even if most of her silver was devoured by the Rust Tide, as long as a trace contaminated it—

It would inevitably be parasitized in time.

But that was the last resort, sacrificing the pawn to save the king.

The silver body could be regenerated indefinitely using Light Wasteland energy, though it took time. In her original plan, Ye Mi had hoped to infiltrate the heart of a Rust Tide with all of her silver at once.

Time was of the essence.

But she hadn’t expected the Rust Tides’ senses to be so keen, able to detect her from such a distance.

Her silver body slowly spread out, part sinking into the ground, part seeping from the cat’s fur, focused intently on the smallest Rust Tide. Its form remained highly unstable, now fog, now humanoid, flickering like black static.

Whatever these three were communicating, the hulking one showed no further aggression toward Ye Mi. Instead... it reached out, as if to pick her up?

The sudden shift left Ye Mi’s nerves snapped, her mind blanking for a second.

The cool metal touched her body, making her shiver and pulling her thoughts sharply back. Its movements were gentle, nothing like the earlier violence.

But that was not all—she saw something even more astonishing.

Inside the Rust Tide’s metallic shell was a mesh of countless tiny, densely packed black filaments!

They were alive—constantly merging and reshaping into any form.

They bore a striking resemblance to her own silver body.

“They have something similar to silver inside them?”

The thought flashed by, and in that instant, Ye Mi understood why the three Rust Tides had suddenly ceased their attack.

Flesh hearts, metal shells—they saw her as one of their own.

The smallest Rust Tide crept close, its glowing red eyes less than a meter from Ye Mi, and, oddly, she sensed a kind of curiosity from it.

The filaments that formed the whirlwind of communication rose again before her eyes, but Ye Mi remained silent.

For a simple reason: she had no intention of merging her silver with theirs.

Who knew if she’d be devoured instead?

Luckily, the Rust Tides didn’t insist. Instead, they brought Ye Mi beneath the crane, giving her the chance to finally see the whole structure.

Twisted, vine-like rusted black metal wove together to form a kind of outer garment, with sheets of iron and mechanical debris piled around the wheels below. The operator’s cabin had become a nest, its walls studded with shards of metal.

...To be honest, Ye Mi suspected that the original hosts of these corroded hearts had once been construction androids.

The hulking one carefully handed Ye Mi to the little Rust Tide, who, upon cradling the cat, managed to hold a humanoid form for the longest time yet.

“No way...” Ye Mi complained inwardly. “Even cold, metal monsters can’t resist the law of cuteness?”

The behemoth’s hammer-arm reformed into a hand, which it used to pick up a scrap of iron near the wheels, then offered it to Ye Mi.

...?

A strange silence fell again.

What was this? Were they offering her their food as an apology?

Ye Mi squirmed free of the Rust Tide’s grip, scampered two or three meters away, and sat quietly, watching them.

The little Rust Tide snatched up the piece of iron, then, like a human child teasing a cat with a treat, crawled to Ye Mi and held it out, the gesture seeming to say: “Kitty, eat this.”

“Miaow,” Ye Mi mewed, unmoved.

She had no intention of eating iron—nor could her silver body.

She pretended to be merely uninterested, perhaps a little annoyed, and stayed motionless.

All the while, she remained wary, ready to have her silver body pounce on the little one. Because, judging by the Rust Tides’ logic so far, if she refused to devour metal, they might realize she was not their kin after all.