"Give it to me."
The dark grey leader of the armed species extended a forelimb toward his subordinate, lifting a heavy incendiary gun with a single arm.
The two leaders locked in combat had smashed through the corridor, tumbling down the slope toward the depths. Aside from the units staying behind to guard the defeated enemies, the rest of the insects had no choice but to follow their trail in hot pursuit.
"We can't use high-lethality weapons here."
The subordinate, also a Grey-wing, showed hesitation but handed over the equipment nonetheless. "We are directly beneath the nesting area. If it collapses, every insect will be buried underground."
"I know," Kleiman replied, his voice devoid of emotion. He moved with extreme speed, issuing orders in Saki’s stead. "Get ready. If Sa cannot defeat the Sub-King, replace him immediately. We will be the ones to take the enemy's head."
Upon hearing this, every Grey-wing instinctively slowed their pace, their expressions flickering with the doubt of "Wait, isn't that against the rules?"
Such a thing was not supposed to happen during a death match where an inferior challenged a superior. The intervention of outside forces was tantamount to declaring the challenger’s defeat and a breach of contract.
But Kleiman was straightforward—so straightforward that his thoughts never took a detour. He was a paragon of consistency between word and deed; he always did exactly what he thought.
"I understand the importance of the regulations, but I do not want him to die in this struggle," he said.
The instinct to revere the strong had, for once, made a concession to something inexplicable. Unlike the excitement and belligerence that filled him while watching the challenges in the Great Sacrificial Arena of Ja, the mindset of this direct descendant was undergoing a transformation.
"I want him to live."
"I will make sure he lives."
The Grey-wings looked at each other for a brief moment, then continued to follow their leader's pace.
"It’s fine. Even if we act, no other insect will know," the subordinate who had handed over the weapon whispered.
This small group of Grey-wings huddled together, seemingly reaching a somewhat sneaky consensus. They were the unit that had followed the Core Species through the most "map clears," having built their coordination from scratch and honed it to perfection.
"We can beat the opponent until he can't get up, then let Sa cut off his head."
Once their minds were opened to the idea, this method of cheating seemed rather thrilling. It was a trick no other insect had played before—principled, grounded, and entirely "reasonable."
Kleiman: "..."
Even he was speechless for a moment at this blatant display of self-deception. It sounded fine, but something felt slightly off.
In truth, Saki himself didn't particularly need help at the moment. Nor did he know that the insects he brought along were secretly planning to violate their nature, excitedly plotting "outside assistance" like elementary schoolers hiding snacks from a teacher.
His body temperature was climbing due to the intense exertion.
A female insect’s surface temperature was usually low, but now it had become warm due to the extraordinary circumstances, displaying a vivid vitality akin to a warm-blooded mammal.
The desire to slaughter was like boiling magma flowing from a volcano, igniting the two beasts. It surged and billowed like molten metal; hearts hammered against ribcages, pushing the unique physical advantages of this species to the limit.
Neither side hesitated to use the most vicious and low-handed means to kill the other.
The black female used his slightly smaller frame to flip the Sub-King onto the ground, looking down at him from above.
Among Core Species of the same level, Saki was considered tall and strong, but the Broad-wing was even more massive.
Sharp claws tore through the enemy's layers of armor, gouging out wounds deep enough to see bone, while his unfurled wings blocked a powerful strike from the opponent's tail stinger.
Sparks nearly flew as the sharp hook collided with the insect wings.
A succession of attacks smashed a row of the opponent's bones, slowing his healing speed. The Core Species’ lowered torso and tensed limbs were forceful and unshakable.
Strength meant beauty. From the neck to the scaled tail, from the accessory teeth tearing through flesh to the upright barbs, every inch of his fluid lines was perfectly placed.
It was a biological form entirely different from a human’s; even in this ever-changing universe, it would be difficult to find another creature so exquisite.
Fate had destroyed a fragile body, then turned around and gifted Saki a pair of steel wings.
His new body was endowed with strength equal to a direct descendant, capable of standing on equal footing with a Sub-King. The jumbled genes had achieved a perfect fusion; this was not a cage imprisoning a human soul, but an evolution and transformation in another sense.
For a moment, the golden eyes gazing emotionlessly at the enemy held a trace of arrogance. Forceful, merciless, and indestructible.
Saki let the other roar, pressing the Broad-wing into the dust once more without hesitation. Blood dripped from the gaps in their shattered scales, burning spiral patterns into the ground.
He used brute force to pin down the creature that repeatedly tried to rise, his tail whip and body working together to firmly suppress the wildly flapping broad wings and the long tail flailing in the air.
Differences existed between tribes.
For instance, the gentle Short-wing tribe only handled logistics and nursing during the Queen's era. Thus, even if their Sub-Kings were stronger than average tribe members, they still struggled to last a single round against a Grey-wing.
The same situation was unfolding now—the Broad-wing tribe was not a breed traditionally skilled in warfare, which was why they were being chased and bitten everywhere by Clark's troops. The fierce bandits who once guarded the King possessed explosive combat power even within the general Zerg population; they had always treated their neighbors like candy to be devoured.
Saki hadn't expected the enemy Sub-King to struggle so much against him.
To be honest, he still hadn't remembered the name of the female insect before him.
However, he could somewhat understand why this brain-damaged fellow had created the hybrids. Under the Zerg’s iron rule of "be strong or die," both Krisha and the Broad-wing tribe displayed an extreme obsession with infinitely enhancing their own combat power.
Even so, the growth rate of this body occasionally exceeded Saki's own expectations.
It shouldn't be this smooth.
At the start of the fight, he had indeed felt a long-lost sense of difficulty. However, as the battle dragged on, the Core Species’ recovery speed had clearly surpassed that of the Broad-wing female.
The gaps where flesh had been bitten away were rapidly filled; broken bones creaked as they regenerated, as if he were walking a path of ever-deepening alienation and transformation.
With a roar of rage, the enemy brought both arms down with overwhelming force.
If he took that hit head-on, even Saki would be stunned for several seconds.
But his evasion was fast enough; he withdrew with a speed that blurred his form.
The concentrated blow failed to take off Saki’s head, but it shattered the floor and the walls.
They smashed through the corridor, falling directly into the massive nest below.
The Core Species was quick to spread his wings, slowing his fall, though the height and the impact with debris still left him disoriented.
In contrast, the Sub-King he had pinned beneath him fared worse; the sound of his spine hitting the ground was enough to make one's teeth ache.
But the opponent seemed oblivious, flipping up with maximum speed to put distance between himself and the troublesome Core Species.
The Broad-wing panted heavily, the respiratory slits at his waist opening and closing violently as he circled in a defensive stance.
Before Saki could carefully distinguish his surroundings, his gaze was drawn to the object overhead.
It was the carcass of a massive alien beast.
Countless drooping tentacles held it in an embrace like arms, suspending it high in the air, weaving a soft nest.
The dead beast was a leaden grey, its protruding mandibles rotted. Densely packed, hypertrophied tumors were filled with black fluid, signaling that the pollution of the Xenogeneic Tide had acted deeply upon this body.
But this was not the direct cause of its death—the truly fatal wound was in the lower abdomen. It was covered in lacerations where something had bitten through the flesh to crawl out. Even after a long time, the slimy trail of its passage was clearly identifiable.
The cross-sections of those twisted limbs revealed broken bones, while a massive embedded cutter nearby declared its responsibility.
The heavy blade could sever the hard tentacles of an alien beast; it could also easily sever the head of a hybrid.
The walls were covered in tight grooves and egg sacs. Semi-finished embryos of various forms drifted within semi-transparent membranes, looking like cysts growing from the nest's rooms.
The first of the new Zerg species had been nurtured and born here.
This was the Sub-King's breeding nest.
Undoubtedly, the unlucky thing hanging in mid-air was the original sample host for the hybrids created by the Broad-wing tribe.
Saki hovered between disgust and absurdity.
The Zerg really weren't picky eaters.
To be able to lay eggs inside that thing was truly beyond his comprehension.
For a moment, he didn't know which came first: his eyes hurting or a phantom pain in his lower half. Often, just when he thought things couldn't possibly go any further, this race would do something contrary and produce some brand-new, legendary masterpiece that transcended his current understanding.
The Broad-wing Sub-King was clearly unrivaled in the race to be unconventional.
Not only had he chosen an alien beast for his experiments, but it was an alien beast polluted by the Xenogeneic Tide. It was hard to imagine how many "buffs" this ugly new species had stacked.
Humanity had once proven through its own experience that the Akashic, the Xenogeneic Tide, and Xenogeneic pollution were all bad news.
Do not approach; approaching leads to misfortune.
Aside from the White Emperor, who treated the Xenogeneic as food and advocated the "Good brother, you taste great" philosophy, no creature had ever gained anything good from them.
They were powerful—powerful to the point of ignoring all common sense and science.
But this power never shifted according to human will; it simply existed there aimlessly.
The Tide itself held no malice; pollution was merely its byproduct. If any creature happened to be within the range of their appearance, an irreversible mutation would "happen" to occur.
Unfortunately, this combination of three "happenings" was, to the pragmatic and pollution-vulnerable humans, a pile of steaming garbage.
And yet, there were insects rushing to choose that garbage as their evolutionary direction.
It was almost enough to make Saki’s vision go dark.
The Sub-King, caught between rage and laughter, stood in the breeding chamber he loved, a bone-chilling fanaticism flickering in his four eyes.
"You destroyed my nest, destroyed my stored genes—perhaps you'll even have time to find a part of your own tribe among them."
"You also destroyed my young."
The Broad-wing body was not strong enough. This battle had left the brownish-grey female breathing heavily, but he still let out a displeased laugh.
"But it doesn't matter. I have already obtained the best sample."
In this heretic, Saki sensed a purity devoid of any impurities.
Purity was a synonym for cruelty. The more a being was determined and undisturbed by external things, the easier it was for them to concentrate and place themselves in the highest priority.
Such a description was not derogatory; it was merely a state of being.
Empathy and understanding, on the other hand, sometimes required postnatal cultivation; both meant ceding a portion of one's own interests to accommodate the emotional needs of the external group.
In both Krisha and the Sub-King of the Grey-wing tribe, there were traces of such purity.
In their eyes, only their goal remained; everything else could be sacrificed for it.
Therefore, tribe members were consumables, insignificant, and could serve as culture dishes.
"I will destroy your samples along with you as quickly as possible," Saki replied sincerely.
Allowing these things to remain in the world for a single second longer was an insult to his eyes.
The new hybrid things inherited human cunning and the strength of Zerg and alien beasts. More fatally, their paternal genes had been polluted by the Tide; ghost knows what bug-like hidden skills these crawlers would display once they reached adulthood.
Humans had always loved zombie movies and thus understood the horror of infection.
If any of the new Zerg species inherited the characteristics of Tide pollution, everyone might as well hold hands and spiral into the sun together.
Miners who once excavated Star Core energy often encountered the tragedy of a hundred normal people going down the shaft in the morning and a hundred mutants crawling out in the evening.
That unfortunate experience had nearly wiped out the human race.
And an adult Zerg displaying mutant traits was a catastrophe that could punch a hole in the heavens.
Without hesitation, he snapped the scaled tail that tried to coil around his neck. The Core Species’ accessory teeth bit bone-deep wounds into the enemy.
Every attack struck sparks; in the contest between claws and scales, the former emerged victorious.
The nest itself was spacious enough, but the walls were covered in stacked objects, causing the combatants to smash countless egg sacs as they maneuvered.
Cold, damp embryonic larvae slid out, and strange-smelling fluid flowed everywhere.
Saki happened to look up and saw a circle of heads crowded around the hole they had smashed through.
The armed species led by Kleiman had hurried over and finally taken their seats. Over a dozen strangely shaped, alienated heads were squeezing together, trying to see the situation on the level below.
They looked like a circle of peeping gophers.
Saki: "..."
There was really no need for that.
Meanwhile, Kleiman had already thrown the gun toward the Core Species.
"Catch!"
Cheating these days was all about being open and aboveboard.
But the Sub-King was closer. His tail whip, flailing in the air, snatched the "outside assistance" and pulled it to his side.
It was a compression incendiary gun.
A lethal substance akin to thermite sprayed toward everything in sight, drenching Saki completely.
For a moment, the Core Species wanted to curse.
The armed species leader’s intention was to help, but in terms of results, he had fully utilized the "beat up my teammate" skill.
The Broad-wing, standing with his body half-collapsed from exhaustion, hissed with laughter, displaying a frenzied form at this farcical scene.
But in the next second, the flames were parted, and flying sparks were flung aside.
Two pairs of black wings that had formed a protective barrier withdrew from his front. As they vibrated, the tips of the wings were tinged with the color of flowing fire, every gap in the patterns tempered with a piercing gold-red.
Before the laughter could even stop, the Core Species appeared before the enemy as if by teleportation.
His speed was terrifying, his strength equally so. He smashed the opponent away, and the weapon he had just grabbed flew from his hand.
The fire and thick smoke still burning were reflected in two pairs of deep golden eyes.
When the humans of the Old World prayed for their wishes to come true, they offered sacrifices of honey and milk, blood, and ignited flames. They craved for their desires to be filled by boons falling from the sky, and thus offered the most precious treasures they could find.
The pitch-black monster believed in none of that.
He did not believe in gods, he did not believe in karma, and he did not believe in anything that demanded certainty and fanaticism.
If retribution was not enough to take the enemy's head, he would do it himself.
With savage strength, he pinned the Sub-King's head, tore away the forelimbs that offered resistance, and stomped on the hind legs that tried to kick, exposing the hard neck.
Both were covered in wounds, but the difference was that the black one’s healing was visible to the naked eye, while the brownish-grey one was flagging.
He forced the prey, which was a size larger than himself, to walk forward. Every step was as heavy as a mountain, the ground cracking beneath his feet.
To the silver-grey female, he had made a promise: to trade two heads for two tribes. And this promise would be fulfilled.
Humans were rarely matched when it came to intimidating their own kind.
In more barbaric eras, they had learned to set up guillotines and crosses, dragging commoners, nobles, clergy, or kings alike to the execution ground, forcing even those who never knew retreat to kneel in fear.
They didn't even let the dripping blood go to waste, passing it around in golden vessels.
All arrogance would give way to terror.
And now, he had one ready-made.
The blade of the cutter that had once severed the limbs of the massive alien beast hung down, the skeleton of the previous victim suspended upon it with rotting eye sockets wide open.
The dragged Sub-King struggled incessantly, raising his rattlesnake-like tail whip high, viciously strangling the Core Species’ neck again and again, wanting to twist that eyesore of a neck.
Saki did not look back.
His pitch-black wings took on a metallic sheen. As they vibrated, they sliced through the broad tail armor and severed the connecting tendons, causing the once-powerful limb to instantly lose its strength.
In just a brief instant, Saki had dragged his opponent forward several more steps.
Blood gushed from both their wounds, forming a trail.
With strength enough to rip out an entire spine, he pressed the Sub-King down beside the cutter that had once claimed the alien beast.
Since the opponent loved this breeding nest so much, he would surely meet his end in the same manner.
Not every battle could end with great aesthetic appeal.
Reality and survival were not exhibition matches; dominance and submission were the beginning of obedience.
Torn wings struggled behind him, scraping the executioner's limbs.
But Saki’s strength was too great. He pinned him firmly to the execution block, leaving him to lie in his own pool of blood, able only to let out a sharp, angry laugh as a loser.
That laughter sounded inverted and mad with fanaticism and fear.
"You fight for Clark!"
This deathbed struggle was filled with derangement, broken by the violent treatment, every word choking on blood.
"You want to kill me for him!"
"Pheromones do not lie, and disguises cannot protect you forever! You cannot completely hide the blood of the Hard-wings in your body! The butcher of the Northern Battlefield slaughtered your tribe. When he discovers your identity, he will similarly tear open your chest and rip out your heart!"
"I will wait for you to die a miserable death, just like your tribe that turned into blood and sludge!"
"You won't even have the chance to return to the Swarm—"
With utterly savage force, he brought down the massive guillotine blade. The cold, heavy instrument of execution had originally relied on mechanical bearings to operate, but Saki pulled it down by hand.
The sharp blade that had once severed the limbs of the alien beast crashed down, splashing a shrill, long cry.
The babbling head had its neck instantly crushed. Blood and the cross-section remained still for a heartbeat, then sprayed out.
Spiral patterns bloomed on the ground, like the roots of a plant growing out of death.
The Core Species, who had nailed the opponent to the guillotine, was sprayed from head to toe in a mist of blood.
Some of the blood splashed into his mouth, onto his slender tongue. It was a mild warmth and a rich fragrance, sweeter than any blood-food he had ever eaten.
The Core Species released his arms, letting the still-twitching limbs slide down.
Then he took a step back, distancing himself from the headless corpse. His respiratory slits closed, no longer taking in the scent that made his saliva drip.
Death brought intimidation, but one must not indulge in slaughter.
Just as he loathed the Sub-King himself, he loathed cannibalizing his own kind.
A beast emerging from a barbaric land was never ashamed to face its own nature, but the shackles in his subconscious made him instinctively don the human skin called "restraint."
Blood flowed all the way through the breeding nest, spreading to the base of the walls covered in dense egg sacs.
The pale red intertwined with those gnarled, fixed chambers like pulsating blood vessels.
And above their heads were the suspended beast remains, the open ceiling, and a group of armed species who had witnessed the result of the battle.
The armed squad, which had been excitedly clutching their hands earlier, was now collectively as quiet as mice.
The circle of heads around the hole remained frozen and motionless.
These single-minded fellows couldn't even do a good job of pretending they hadn't heard the Sub-King's final words. The dark grey female leader was particularly bad at it; ahead of his consciousness, his thick tail had already begun to flick uneasily behind him.
Instinct, reason, and emotion were all in conflict, causing these Grey-wings to experience a command malfunction.
Hard-wings were enemies, and enemies needed to be exterminated, but Sa was a companion.
Every insect in an alienated state showed a slight sense of being at a loss.
"Take the head."
The executioner clad in pitch-black scales spoke. He did not spare a glance for the Sub-King's remains, nor did he look at his companions. There was no emotion in his deep golden eyes.
In the hollow nest hall, within the grooves covering the walls up to the dome, a vast number of embryos floated in semi-transparent egg sacs. Some of those deformed and incomplete bodies still stared with dead eyes, while others slept peacefully.
These shriveled eggs formed all sorts of grotesque and absurd illustrations, like miniatures of countless deaths and failures, looking down remotely and quietly at the blood-soaked victor.
The Broad-wing Sub-King was their kin; the mangled alien beast carcass was their other genetic parent.
All the new generation had been born from a massive accumulation of experiments, hatched from the bodies of middle and low-tier females and males, never having lived for a single second before vanishing in an instant. Their leaden-grey accessory eyes were indifferent and soulless, their curled tentacles reaching toward the direction outside the egg membrane.
Until the Core Species once again picked up the compression incendiary gun that had been knocked away nearby.
The lethal substance sprayed across the entire breeding nest, instantly igniting a high-heat, unceasing fire.
The color of the flames was reflected in countless eyes.
Every eye dyed red was like a tiny hell.
They watched the only crimson dawn of their brief lives, from birth to death.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 硬翅 (Yìng chì) | Hard-wing | A Zerg tribe mentioned as Saki's true origin. |
| 压缩燃烧枪 (Yāsuō ránshāo qiāng) | Compression Incendiary Gun | A high-heat weapon used by the Zerg. |
| 铝热剂 (Lǚ rè jì) | Thermite | A pyrotechnic composition of metal powder and metal oxide. |
| 断头台 (Duàntóu tái) | Guillotine | Used metaphorically and literally for the cutting machine. |
| 响尾蛇 (Xiǎngwěishé) | Rattlesnake | Used to describe the Sub-King's tail. |
