The dead young man had turned into a five-meter-long bluefish. It looked plump and well-fed. Because its body was so large, the bone spike that had pierced his chest in human form was now embedded inside it, leaving only a bloody hole at a vital spot, where blood streamed out.
A skeletal figure came to the bluefish and slowly crouched beside it. Eyes closed, he drew a deep breath. Even the fishy smell was fragrant to him.
He cautiously brought his mouth close to the bloody hole in the bluefish. Warm blood flowed into his mouth, and his expression turned blissful, as though he were drinking nectar from heaven.
Unless you had spent a certain amount of time aboard this ship, you could never understand how precious food was.
The skeletal figure drank the bluefish's blood greedily until his belly bulged. But the fish was too large, and blood continued to flow.
A deep sorrow flickered in his eyes. He murmured, "Such a waste. This blood is the kind of delicacy I wouldn't even dare dream of in ordinary times, and now it's all going to waste. My heart aches. Damn it, why didn't I bring a container? Then none of it would have gone to waste..."
Just then, footsteps sounded from a corridor entrance not far away, and three more people who looked much like him appeared.
The person crouched beside the bluefish looked up. His gaze turned cold, and three sharp bone spikes slid from his sleeve into his hand.
The four of them faced each other across the bluefish, locked in a standoff. No one spoke. The air was tense and oppressive, and every pair of eyes was as cold as the edge of a blade.
For food, no one aboard this ship would hesitate to kill