适者生存 Adaptation

作者：Ian St. Martin

放逐，就意味着彻底的抹除。

To be exiled is to be erased.

你并没有被人忘记。因为你根本就从未存在过。你的每一下心跳都不值得计数。即便是镣铐加身的奴隶也有价值。即便是死人也会有人默哀。

You are not forgotten. You never existed at all. Each beat of your heart is judged unworthy of counting. Even a slave wears chains, proving their value. Even the dead are mourned.

生下我的肉齿兽认为我毫无价值。雷恩加尔这个名字不再被他们认作同族，更不是酋长庞加夫的儿子。我既入不了他们的眼，也近不了他们的身。

I am nothing to the Kiilash who birthed me. The name Rengar no longer recalls the face of their kin, son of Chieftain Ponjaf. I am outcast from their hearts as much as their hearths.

这是有去无回的命运。

There is no return from such a fate.

至少他们是这么告诉我的。但岁月和鲜血能改变这种命运。

Or so I was told. Years and blood can change such things.

我的心依然在跳动，于是我带着猎人之路上收集来的战利品去找他们。他们一言不发地把我带到父亲眼前。他允许我回到部落，让我的名字和容貌被铭记，让我的心跳再次被计数。

My heart still beats, and so I went to them with trophies gathered on the hunter’s path. Wordlessly I was brought before my father’s gaze. He offered me a return to the tribe, where my name would be spoken and face remembered, where my heart’s beating would be counted again.

然后他开出了条件。

And he named the cost for such a thing.

我必须追踪一个黑影。月黑之夜的锋刃零屑。可憎之物。

I must track a shadow. Bladed shard of moonless night. Abomination.

只要带着它的头回到丛林，我就不再是放逐之身。

Return from the jungle with its head, and I shall be exiled no more.

我与树林融为一体。我去听、去嗅、去体会。我品味着千百只动物留下的痕迹，形形色色。这是我的直觉，在一名人类的冷酷教导下磨砺成锋，他发现了一个弃儿，并将其带上猎人之路。时至今日，马尔孔给我的匕首依然在我身边。

I melt between the trees. I hear, smell, feel. I parse the spoor of a thousand creatures, big and small. This comes from instinct, sharpened by the cold teachings of the human who found an outcast, and set him down the path of the hunt. I still bear the knife Markon gave me.

我搜寻着那个邪物。它栖息于此，却又格格不入。

I search for the wrong-thing that dwells here, unable to belong.

琳琅的战利品被我留在了营地，没有披挂在身上。我身上只有追猎的刃、润毛的油和一颗不疾不徐的猎人之心。

The trophies that hang and rattle from my coat are gone, left behind at my camp. There is only the blade, a layer of grease to slicken my fur, and the slow, measured beat of a hunter’s heart in my chest.

在淅沥繁闹的雨林中无迹可寻……随后出现了。很微弱，但历历分明，在我的感官中飘忽游移。残存的陌生感既恶浊又甜腻，令我停下来仔细品味。彻头彻尾的邪秽。恶心。它对一切生命的敌意令我无法描述。暴殄世间万物。

There is nothing, amid the teeming life of the rainforest… until there is something. It is faint, but stark, slithering over my senses. The sickly sweet unfamiliarity of it halts me for a moment as I take it in. It is wrong in every way. Repulsive. An enemy to life in ways I cannot describe. It defies everything around it.

真正的狩猎开始了。我追踪着痕迹。

The true hunt begins. I follow the trail.

我在踪迹旁边迂回，从不直接触碰。我忍受着那个邪物的气味，直到收获滴血的声音。

I snake around it, never touching. I endure the wrong-thing’s scent, until the sounds of bloodletting reward me.

有什么东西正在死去。就在前方几棵树后面。它死得并不痛快。

Something is dying. Through the trees ahead. It is not dying well.

一群锋喙鸟。虽然不在链条的顶端，但它们仍旧是掠食者，很少成为猎物。袭击它们的东西既没有被饥饿逼得走投无路，也不在乎它们的危险。

A pack of jungle raptors. Far from the apex, raptors are still capable predators, and rarely ever prey. Their attacker is either desperate with hunger, or unconcerned by their lethality.

我露出牙齿，笑容浮现。看来挑战还是有的。

I bare my teeth in a grin. It may be a challenge after all.

邪物的恶臭已经满溢，缠裹着落叶中带着血迹的明艳羽毛。我蹿上一棵粗壮扭曲的树，我的利爪拖着我无声地钻进树冠。我在树影中蹲伏，品尝着空气的湿度，凝聚目光，寻找我的猎物。

The reek of the wrong-thing is overpowering. It clings to the clumps of bright, bloody plumage strewn about the forest floor. I surge up a thick, rugged tree trunk, my claws carrying me silently into the canopy. I crouch there in the leafy shadows, tasting the humidity of the air, narrowing my eyes, seeking my quarry.

它速度很快，那正是它经过长久磨砺的武器。我只能瞥见他来回穿梭的短暂身影，结束猎杀，准备朵颐。

It has speed. That is a weapon it has honed to a fine edge. I catch only glimpses as it darts back and forth, finishing its kills and preparing to feast.

战利品并不是它狩猎的目标。我在它的动作中感受到一种更强烈的饥饿感，某种超越了原始的求生欲的东西。

The promise of trophies does not spur it to hunt. I sense a greater hunger in its movements, something beyond the primal urge to survive.

最后一只锋喙鸟死亡，那个邪物慢了下来。但即便如此，它也从未静止过。它像烟雾一样在地上时隐时现。我现在已经可以更清楚地看到它。我感到脑子发痒。

When the last raptor dies, the wrong-thing slows. Even so, it is never still. It leaps and slides across the ground like smoke. I can see it more clearly now. It makes my brain itch.

它像是一只昆虫，但又不尽然。它的身体不合情理。四肢、血肉、甲壳、手爪，都不像是一只生物身上能长出来的，而且包裹在一层油亮的外骨骼中，黑紫的色泽就像腐坏的水果。空气和阳光在贴近它身体的地方扭曲，不想碰它。

It is like an insect, but not completely. Its parts do not make sense. Limbs and flesh and shell and claws that cannot belong to the same single creature—all inside a glistening outer skeleton, blackish-purple like rotten fruit. The air and light writhe around it. They do not want to touch it either.

知道这个就够了。这邪物身上也带着放逐者的印记。我要把它送回那污秽的诞生之处。

That gives me the understanding I seek. The wrong-thing bears the mark of an exile, too. I am ready to send it back to whatever foulness spawned it.

紧握着马尔孔的匕首，我从树干上落下。

With Markon’s knife light in my grip, I drop from the branches.

我无声地落在它身后。它没有注意到我。我知道如何无声无迹地移动，直到充满成就和刺激的时刻随着致命一击到来。我已成为顶端的掠食者，靠的是适应，是本能……而这一刻，我的本能在尖叫——有什么地方不对劲。

There is no sound when I land behind the creature. It pays my approach no heed. I know how to move unseen, unheard, until those sweet, adrenaline-filled moments after a killing blow is struck. I have risen to become an apex predator by adaptation, by instinct… and in this moment my instinct screams that something is not right.

犹豫救了我的命，否则我就会和那些锋喙鸟一样。我几乎看不清那只撕裂空气的爪子，我差点就站在了那个位置。它早就知道我的到来。如果不是我突然停下，它刚才就已经杀死我了。

Hesitation saves my lifeblood from joining that of the raptors. I barely see the claw as it slices the air I would have occupied. It knew I was coming. Had I not stopped short, it would have ended me then.

一切都太顺利了。太简单了。我应该更早就意识到。庞加夫的承诺让我盲目，自信发酵成自大，让我暴露无遗。

Everything has been too clean. Too easy. I should have recognized this sooner. Ponjaf’s promise has blinded me, confidence soured to hubris, leaving me exposed.

那个怪物的喉咙里发出一串吱嘎声。腐液从他的齿缝间流出。它的背后有动静，甲壳正在用力。它发出嘶嘶声，不知是痛苦还是愉悦。一对新生的肢体破壳而出，延展成为丑陋的、湿漉漉的翅膀。它已看见我构成的威胁，于是它蜕变了。它不愿被当做猎物。

A slick chittering comes from the monster’s throat. Ichor flecks its jaws. There is movement on its back, straining against the carapace. It hisses, a noise I cannot tell is of pain or pleasure, as a pair of new limbs erupt and unfurl into hideous, dripping wings. It has seen the threat I pose, and so it changes. It is unwilling to submit as prey.

我冲上去。

I lunge.

太慢了。那个生物将马尔孔的匕首从我手中打飞。愚蠢、优柔寡断，我的双眼随着匕首看了过去。这一错让我门户大开，任由那邪物袭来。

Too slow. The creature’s riposte sends Markon’s knife spinning from my grip. Foolishly, sentimentally, my eyes follow it for an instant. The error opens the way for the wrong-thing to strike.

又一只带刃的爪子扑来。炽热的刺痛。我双耳之间充斥着咆哮声。

Another bladed claw flicks out. Hot, stinging pain. A roaring between my ears.

我退后。满脸是血。

I fall back. Blood slicks my face.

我忙乱地拉开距离，努力挤出视野中的红色。右眼模糊。左边一片黑。咆哮声不绝于耳。

I scramble to gain distance, trying to blink the red from my vision. The right eye is a blur. The left remains dark. The roaring will not fade.

我伸手摸向自己的脸。这才意识到这怪物夺走了什么。

I reach for my cheek. I realize what the beast has taken.

它用力拍打翅膀，甩掉残存的黏液。它飞到了我头顶。它露出了尖牙——但没有挑衅，也没有冷笑。它举起我的左眼，让我看着它缓缓将那颗血红的珠子放到牙缝边，然后吞了下去。

Beating the last of the vile slime from its wings, the wrong-thing rises to hover over me. It bares its fangs, either in further challenge or a cruel grin, and holds my left eye up for me to see. Slowly it lowers the blood-slick orb over its fangs, and drops it down its gullet.

一阵反胃。我握紧双拳，揉了揉仅存的一只眼。

My gorge rises. I clench my fists, rubbing at my remaining eye.

污秽的贱胚。它这一下硬是把我猎人的角色给抢去了。我不再感到任何疼痛。只有愤怒。

The defilement of it. The symbolic shift as this foul creature snatches the role of hunter away from me. I no longer feel any pain. Only rage.

我全力扑向它。我不需要匕首。我有天生的爪子，还有高亢的咆哮。我不会被打败。

I hurl myself at it. I need no knife. I have the claws I was born with, and the triumphal roar I learned for myself. I will not be defeated.

我们撞在一起。

We collide.

狂暴的赤红之舞似乎永无终止。我们轮番追赶彼此。这个可憎之物是冰冷的黑暗。我是复仇烈日的核心。我们彼此劈斩，一轮又一轮，周遭的世界已经不再重要。

The red dance of violence seems unending. We each give chase in turn. The abomination is cold darkness. I am the core of a vengeful sun. We cut away at each other, over and over, and the rest of the world no longer matters.

终于，夜幕降临，我的敌人逃走了。

Finally, as night falls, my enemy flees.

或者……这只是我在欺骗自己？或许它已经学会了我身上的一切，而本能指引它寻求更重要的东西。疲惫涌上来。我倒下了，只留下血淋淋的伤口和一种全新的、可怕的感应——我和那怪兽被连在了一起。就在它吃掉我眼珠的那一刻，纽带结成了。

Or… is that just as I wish to see it? Maybe it learned all it can from me, and instinct guides it on to greater things. Exhaustion takes hold. I collapse, left with bloody wounds and a new, terrible sense of connection to this monster. It is a bond forged in the moment it ate of my flesh.

肉齿兽称那邪物为卡兹克。

The Kiilash know the wrong-thing as Kha’Zix.

在古老的凡人语言中，它的意思是“你面对你自己”。

In the old mortal tongue, it means, “You Face Yourself”.

可以肯定，我们打斗的同时它也发生了蜕变，不断成长着、挣扎着。它继续前进，不断迫近自己的极限，而我却回顾自己，回顾过去和我诞生的部落，唤起我放逐的怒火。

True enough, it changed as we fought, growing and twisting. It went forward, always forward to find its edge, where I looked back into myself, back into the past and the tribe of my birth, to summon my exile’s fury.

这还不够。它已因应了变化，我必须同样学会适应。

This was not enough. As it has adapted, now so must I.

因为我的猎杀从不落空。

For I will have my kill.