Ultraman Legend of the Light Chaser

The boy thought of his father, who would come home every day after a hard day's work at the docks with a similar expressionless face. Although he was so tired that he could barely move, the slightest spark could set him off. The boy had learned his lesson for this.

Sure enough, the stranger started by lecturing: "TPC's South American branch isn't fully established yet. If you want to get ahead... then study hard, pass TPC's exams, and you can fly safely to all parts of the world. Stop looking for smuggling boats."

"Who wants to study and take exams?" the boy muttered to himself. He didn't dare look the other person in the eye anymore, and instead looked down at his toes, muttering, "I want to play soccer, but the coach said I'm not cut out for it, so I can only work as a carpenter with my dad—what a joke!"

"Stop nagging," the uncle patted him on the shoulder, "He's gone."

"Huh?!" The boy looked up abruptly, but the deck was empty, and there was no one in front of him.

The rain eventually stopped after a while.

Like an inland lake, it is ultimately difficult to reach the sea.

How many years must some people live before they gain true freedom? How many times must some people look up before they can see the real sky?

"Go home honestly, you little thief," the uncle climbed over the railing, grabbed the horizontal bar with his back, and was also planning to make a run for it: "I'll wish you don't get your legs broken by your dad. If you do get your legs broken, you can come work for me. I take in disabled people."

"Broken leg my foot! I'd rather die than go to your place!" the boy cursed, but the uncle had already leaped out like a dolphin and swam away into the water with a "whoosh." The boy chased after him, only to see a splash of white waves.

"I'd rather die than go!" the boy spat heavily, moved to another spot, and leaped into the sea.

Chapter 175 Iceberg Graveyard (4k)

"If you can figure out the temperament of the ocean, she will show you her tolerance and gentleness, that's what the guys from the Coast Guard say."

“I think they’re lying through their teeth. Flying is much more efficient and simpler,” Sato said through the phone line, yawning. “You’ve really brought back some big news.”

Aiba Yu stayed in Punta Arenas for a few days, waiting for TPC headquarters to send a plane to pick up the old captain, and then Sato would pry some information out of him.

The guy knew that if he spoke, he would be sentenced to death, and if he didn't, he could live a few more days. Maybe the "buyers" of those illegal immigrants would come in and change the world. So he kept quiet at first and became a tough guy.

This reveals the tone that TPC set at its inception—as a peace organization that has disarmed itself and used the world’s most advanced technology to cripple itself, how could it resort to torture to extract confessions?

Sato was secretly seething with hatred, but he had to order people to feed and drink him well, and provide him with three meals a day according to normal standards. The trial was a matter for the court, and before that, at least they themselves could not resort to vigilante justice.

"We cooked hot pot, barbecue, and seafood feasts on the other side of the screen for four days," Sato hummed, "There's always a way. The old man was unmoved. Guess what pried his mouth open?"

"Speak quickly." Aiba Yu had been standing like a statue on the deserted beach for several days, hoping to find something in the vast ocean. He didn't want to know how many barbecue hot pots and seafood feasts Sato and his team had eaten.

“He has no sense of humor,” Sato said. “It’s ‘cigarettes.’ Long voyages always require something to keep you alert, and they think a certain kind of ‘tobacco’ is the best way to stay alert—we only managed to get a small packet of less than 10 grams under surveillance, and he couldn’t resist. It was the first time I’d ever seen him so enthusiastic.”

"He actually lied to you. Even though he was being choked, he insisted that the handover took place somewhere at sea, but that's not the case... The ship's real destination was South Georgia Island, 1400 kilometers away, an island known for its iceberg graveyard, whaling, and sovereignty disputes."

South Georgia Island, a desolate and bleak place.

It stands alone in the South Atlantic, alongside the equally desolate South Sandwich Islands.

Aiba Yu first learned about it from the controversy among climatologists—glacier researchers who were closely monitoring the icebergs discovered that A68a, the "star" iceberg that broke away from Antarctica in 2017 and became the world's largest iceberg, was drifting towards South Georgia Island. Its size is comparable to that of South Georgia Island, and it is conceivable that it would be a huge disaster for the island's wildlife.

For a period of time, TPC meetings would always bring up the issues of "climate warming" and "carbon emission control," and people were tired of hearing about South Georgia Island.

Therefore, upon arriving at South Georgia Island, Aiba Yuu immediately observed his surroundings and easily identified the massive object stretching across the distant sea – A68a. Behind it were two smaller icebergs, A68b and A68c, which had broken off from the continental shelf of South Georgia Island.

At this time, it is early spring in the Northern Hemisphere, and winter snow has already fallen on South Georgia Island. The Antarctic Circulation not only brings icebergs, but also abundant and cold water vapor.

Snowflakes swirled across the landscape, and Aiba Yu gazed at the iceberg across the vast expanse of white sand and the deep blue waves. It had drifted here after breaking off from the Larsen C Ice Shelf, its base gradually eroded, leaving bridge-like arches along its edges. Yet it remained austere and imposing. The blizzard had piled it higher and higher, breaking through the ice floes with unstoppable force, like a true rocky mountain. Even the continental shelf couldn't halt its journey. Given more time, it would surely find its resting place here, even if it were to crash and shatter into pieces.

But the island did not welcome it.

Penguins, seals, and even struggling lichens and mosses will not welcome it.

Aiba Yu turned his head and looked at the snow-capped peaks—they wouldn't welcome this iceberg either; in fact, they abhor any sea conditions that might hinder safe navigation. South Georgia Island is an active volcanic island, and although it presents itself as a world of ice and snow year-round, beneath the layers of ice and snow lies magma that never cools.

Magma can provide incredible heat, and if utilized, it could easily support daily life and even industry.

Therefore, there are many people inside the mountain.

Aside from those in the know, who would imagine that this deserted island, which only welcomes tourists in January each year, is actually home to tens of thousands of people?

“There’s a prison on the island,” Sato said. “It’s a place where ‘missing persons’ from all over the world gather. Some people have identified weak points in TPC’s control and have built outposts and bases there. I’m worried… come back once you’ve located them.”

Aiba Yu readily agreed, then strode towards the "prison".

"To stir up trouble and alert the enemy," he thought. "Even if we rescue them now, many will freeze to death in the freezing cold." He had many reasons to leave immediately, but if he wanted to continue, one reason was enough—since the enemy had let Paradia the twelfth escape, they must have known he would come here.

What do they want to do? Aiba Yu wondered, should he take these "missing persons" hostage, or should he do something while he was preoccupied?

He has located the spot where the alien spaceships often land. It is a platform on the mountainside with unusually thin snow and concave rocks, indicating that it has been used for a long time.

Behind the platform was the entrance to the "prison," but Aiba Yu didn't plan to rush in right now. He decided to observe from the outside for a while first, to determine the structure of the prison, and to see if there were any firing positions or aliens inside.

Though not clearly visible from a distance, Aiba Yu waded through waist-deep snow, leaving a snow trench behind him—a trench that would soon disappear. The polar regions in winter never hesitate to display their frigidity. The westerly winds, whipping up waves at sea, howl across glaciers and snowfields. If an explorer were to fall and die along the way, he would be frozen solid within three minutes, quickly buried by the snow until, from a distance, he resembled a not-so-sharp rock.

Yu Aiba saw some of these "stones" on the mountain. They were stuck in rock crevices carved out by glaciers, or swept into icy lakes by summer water currents. Severe frostbite had left their faces and limbs necrotic black; clearly, they were still alive when they were thrown out.

Since the aliens need test subjects and have built prisons specifically to house them, following the practices in the magical realm of Lion's Nose Tree Sea, they would even recycle corpses and perform several modifications. So why are these people, whom they painstakingly recruited by bypassing regulations, being randomly dumped in the wilderness on South Georgia Island?

He continued walking forward, getting closer and closer, and more of the mountain's internal structure came into view—his eyes widened in disbelief.

Logically speaking, the prison's administrators are most likely aliens. Only in this way can they provide the strongest deterrent and supervision to the detainees and ensure that the prison serves them. Therefore, Aiba Yu observed the patrolling guards, the people resting in their designated rooms, and those loitering near the boiler or other important equipment.

There are no aliens.

These individuals under close surveillance were all armed; they were heavily armed and occasionally shouted at others. The special rooms were enormous, some even containing musical instruments in addition to necessities—they could easily be called luxurious accommodations. Most rooms, however, were too small, crammed full of people, some standing and some sitting. If the previous smuggling ship was a "sardine can," then these small rooms were like a bunch of sardine cans pressed together, forming an even larger can.

How can anyone live in a food can?

Clearly, those crammed inside thought the same thing. The dark, crowded, and harsh environment made it difficult for people to control themselves; even the most mild-mannered person would become hysterical upon entering, so conflicts were constantly unfolding.

The regulators seem indifferent to the conflict, even if people are fighting right under their noses and their flesh is torn to pieces.

Yes, blood and flesh flew everywhere. Their physical strength far exceeded that of ordinary people. When they fought, they could shatter an opponent's nose with just one punch, and incidentally, they would suffer a concussion that lasted for several hours or even continued to affect them while they were being thrown out.

They seem to have been infected by the alien beast factor, but not completely. Perhaps the alien beast factor was so diluted that it was not enough to overcome their own genes, and only caused some changes in the parts of their bodies that metabolize the fastest and are most likely to show dominant traits.

Honestly, this level of infection might not be something that aliens did intentionally; it could have been brought in by some infected person.

In short, its role is limited; what truly makes this island have such an ecosystem is the people living on it.

Unless you see it with your own eyes, you wouldn't believe that a prison could have luxury suites, recording studios, sports arenas, and hot springs.

The imagined scenario of pitiful people being oppressed and harshly guarded by aliens does not exist.

These people from all over the country spontaneously formed groups of all sizes based on their skin color, language, and lifestyle. These groups competed with each other for living resources and space. The "江湖气" (jianghu qi, a kind of chivalrous spirit) was promoted and amplified here, and it was not uncommon for people to go to great lengths for their leader or betray their leader.

Has anyone ever organized an escape for detainees?

Aiba Yu raised his head. The mountain ridge stood in the gale, and it and the people frozen on it were as sharp as swords that could pierce the sky. Snowflakes rode the wind like white ribbons, and beneath the white ribbons slept countless "stones".

This is South Georgia Island, isolated overseas. Only during the summer months, when passenger ships or expeditions arrive, do escapees have a chance to be rescued. Inside the prison, no one knows when the time will pass.

The days of lost time seemed too long, so whenever there was a glimmer of opportunity, someone would try to rush out. It was often snowing heavily outside. There were few gentle, sunny days with sunshine here all year round. People who escaped wearing only a thin layer of clothing would soon freeze to death and become one of the countless "stones" on the outside of the mountain.

Anyone who manages to escape to the ridge must be a remarkable individual, because beyond the ridge lies Whaling Bay. There are people there, including the grave of explorer Ernest Shackleton, making it a must-see for tourists visiting South Georgia Island.

It's entirely conceivable that it was

What a thrilling day! The leader had confirmed the escape and rescue route. He and his followers defeated the guards and climbed from the platform to near the ridge. It was another cold day. Perhaps they had miscalculated the date, or perhaps it was simply bad luck. They had to trek through a blizzard, hand in hand, relying on each other. The leader had found the right route, and the group hadn't lost their way. They escaped the prison but couldn't escape the bitter cold, and thus they lay there forever asleep.

The smiling corpse was chilling. Aiba Yu said "Goodnight" to himself before turning his attention back to the prison interior.

……

“I’ve said it before, some places are in complete chaos! We need to set up TPC branches there quickly. They’re always saying ‘no money, no money,’ but they always have money for the development center people to squander!”

After ending his communication with Aiba Yu, Sato returned to the interrogation room to listen to the old captain spouting misleading "information," and he was seething with anger. He wasn't the type to keep his anger to himself; when he was unhappy, he made sure everyone else was unhappy too.

But a qualified captain wouldn't curse the God of Wealth, so he took a detour on his way to the Finance Bureau and ended up going to Chief Yoshioka's office instead.

Few dared to glare at Commander Yoshioka, flip the table, and let their voices penetrate the door, causing those on duty outside to show any surprise. Sato was one of those "few".

At worst, I can become the head of the interrogation room again; at the very least, I can sweep the floor in the interrogation room.

Sato was very straightforward. He reported Aiba Yu's discovery in Chief Yoshioka's office, listed the "misdeeds" of the Finance Bureau, and finally put forward the hope of accelerating the construction of the South American and African branches.

“This is not something you need to worry about. And if you’ve been following the director’s schedule, you should know that he’s spent most of the last two years traveling to the ‘weak’ areas you mentioned,” Yoshioka said. “But it’s not like headquarters. Many people there don’t even know how to read or write, and they can’t understand blueprints. Compared to things like ‘alien invasion,’ they’re more concerned about whether TPC can bring more money.”

At this point, Yoshioka scoffed: "When we didn't know, he just wanted to make enough money to run away... The poor just want to live, the rich just want to escape. We all understand the importance of restoring order, but there's too little time. We need time."

Time—when Yoshioka mentioned the word, his sneer turned into a sigh. Sato's anger had long since subsided; he composed himself and said, "Based on the interrogation results and the intelligence sent by Captain Aiba, sir, we need to organize a large-scale rescue operation."

“South Georgia Island, only a madman would go to the Antarctic Circle in the dead of winter; even icebreakers would get frozen by the rapidly rising sea ice,” Yoshioka said. “I’ve seen your briefing, the evacuation of tens of thousands of people, and those locked up inside…”

Even normal people would become abnormal if they stayed in there for too long, let alone those "missing persons" who are mostly impoverished illegal immigrants or people living in the gray area.

“We have no reason to abandon them,” Sato said solemnly. “We are TPC, the United Organization of All Humanity. Even if a criminal scum is taken away by aliens, we will bring him back and put him on trial in our court.”

Chapter 176 Screening Factory (6K)

The South Atlantic in winter is like a stock market hit by a financial tsunami; strong winds sweep through, leaving behind a gloomy and desolate scene.

The Coast Guard hadn't seen the sun for days. Storms and rain mixed with ice shards rolled and roared across the sea. Occasionally, the sun would pierce through the clouds, but only for a fleeting moment. Dampness and shadows were everywhere, and the air, instead of being washed clean by the rain, became murky due to the excessive moisture.

"I must have been completely drunk to agree to skip the cherry blossoms at Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, and then happily board a plane to fly from Tokyo Bay to Mexico and then to Buenos Aires. I'll be sailing on the sea for three days and three nights with my tin can in my arms, and then I'll stuff myself into the tin can—to go to a pitch-black place with icebergs floating overhead and UFOs, monsters, and mutants popping out of nowhere!"

“We have travel allowances,” the person on the other end of the phone replied. “Commander Yoshioka is considerate of his subordinates and has provided us with ample accident and work injury insurance.”

"What do you mean by putting accident insurance first? Do you expect me to have an accident?" The sound of a cup clattering against a hard object came from the other end of the phone. Knowing the other person as he did, he knew they would definitely be sitting there with their feet up on the table, leisurely watching him struggle to keep up. He cursed, "Just you wait. I hope you only get work injuries and never accidents in your life. When you're paralyzed and living a life worse than death, I'll regularly send you fruit baskets."

“If you’re going to be a good Samaritan, you can transfer the money for the fruit basket to me first. Our ground guard is so poor. Every time we change equipment, Aiba gets a new plane, you get a new big ship, and we only have new firewood sticks. We’re about to starve.” Sato said, shaking his leg. In front of him was a surveillance screen that stretched from the table to the ceiling.

Each screen displays a different location: a main road jammed with traffic, a pedestrian street teeming with people, and a leisurely riverside path... They all have one thing in common: people are walking on every screen, and there is no static scenery anywhere.

Clearly, while the Coast Guard was deploying for rescue operations, the ground guard was also busy. Members of the information department walked back and forth behind him; someone glanced at his feet propped up on his desk, seemingly wanting to say something but holding back.

While Sato was talking to the ship, Dolphin 202 had already left the transport vessel and plunged into the vast icy sea. This is what the Coast Guard calls the "Iron Can".

"The leader" is tasked with scouting a safe route before the main rescue ships arrive, and scattering beacons along the way in case the fleet is attacked by aliens who have built a prison on South George Island.