The remaining incubation chambers in the core area were destroyed along with the rest, while the gene bank was cautiously sealed.
Sakdi acted with decisive efficiency, cutting the weeds and digging out the roots to ensure no new hybrids would ever have the chance to crawl to the surface.
Even as steady as he was, he couldn't help but remark that he had "gained some insight" upon seeing the genetic samples collected by the Broad-wing Sub-King.
Within the densely packed, sealed compartments, the contents were assigned serial numbers and arranged in perfect order. Among them were even biological samples of species long extinct in the universe, as well as residual samples from the Hard-wing tribe.
The Armed-type squad followed at a short distance. They wanted to approach but ultimately hesitated, lingering nearby.
"He must have been mistaken."
Kleiman’s tail let out an agitated crackle; he had been pacing in circles for a while now.
"You don’t smell like a Hard-wing, and you don’t look like one. He was talking nonsense."
In response, Sakdi calmly unlocked a display wall, retrieved a test tube labeled "Hard-wing," and tapped the description to review the data.
The Broad-wing tribe had clearly been planning their hybridization experiments for a long time; otherwise, they wouldn't have categorized and hidden everything they could find here. They had meticulously evaluated every creature, including physical strength, biological traits, and relevant experimental data.
Some descriptions matched Sakdi’s new body, while others differed significantly. In terms of healing and regeneration speed, this body was far above the average level of the Hard-wing tribe, and the morphology of his wings was not a standard Hard-wing match.
The Core-type roughly understood why the enemy thought he was wearing a disguise. But the reality was that he himself was just as much in the dark.
"I will speak with Clark," he finally said, his deep voice soothing the anxious leader who was still spinning around his own tail.
He placed the labeled test tube into a portable cryogenic box to take with him.
"You don't need to worry about this. I will explain it to him personally. In truth, my body is somewhat unique and is not a conventional Hard-wing, though it may indeed contain some mixture of Hard-wing genes."
The Armed-types all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.
The dilemma of whether to betray their commander by reporting him to Clark or to betray their Sub-King by helping the black-scaled female hide the truth had nearly caused their mental states to collapse. Furthermore, a slight genetic mixture was far easier to accept than being a total enemy. Perhaps his kin hadn't been picky and had chosen a less-than-ideal mate for egg-laying.
The Hard-wing and Gray-wing tribes had once shared the duty of guarding the King. Unlike the gentle Short-wings or the stoic, construction-focused Mandible-types, these two branches had always been extremely ferocious toward invaders, possessing formidable combat power.
Thus, Sak’s strength was perfectly logical.
By the time the preliminary processing of the core habitat was finished, an entire day had passed. The follow-up troops arrived to take over the freezing and sealing operations, organizing the vast resources left behind by this fallen core genetic lineage one by one.
Sakdi bid farewell to the Armed-types under his command, preparing to head back first with the head of the Broad-wing Sub-King.
He had to return.
The date for his return to the nest had long since passed the promise he made to Gera; this was the first time he had overturned his own schedule. Moreover, the cloud of mystery surrounding his identity had added another layer to the minefield, necessitating a difficult conversation with Clark as soon as possible.
If the issue were revealed to the Gray-wing Sub-King by another insect rather than himself, the other party would surely be fly into a rage over the deception. A detonator that was bound to go off was best triggered by his own hand to control the blast and minimize the damage.
To his surprise, Kleiman efficiently prepared for the return journey as well.
"I’m going back with you," the expressionless, deep-gray leader said. He had freed himself from his period of agitation, and his tail was no longer swinging wildly in three hundred and sixty degrees. "You and Clark might have a dispute. I don't want to see the Gray-wing tribe undergo any more turmoil."
This caused the black Core-type’s impulse to tease to flare up again.
He unexpectedly grabbed the other’s scaled tail and hooked an arm around the tail-flicking fellow's shoulder before he could snap.
"You’re worried about me."
His lazy, drawn-out tone was full of a punchable, provocative quality.
"What is wrong with you!" Kleiman looked like his scales were about to explode as he shoved away the arm that was wandering around doing no good. "Don't say such disgusting things."
This made Sakdi look at him twice.
Rubbing his chin, Sakdi’s eyes—which had returned to their normal golden-brown—showed a thoughtful emotion.
"I get it. You’re easily embarrassed."
"So you’re the same when facing males. It’s not because you’re afraid of them, but because you’re too nervous."
the bastard who refused to act like a decent person clicked his tongue twice.
"This won't do. You're too pure-hearted; it'll be hard for you to find a partner." He said, "Do you want me to teach you how to pursue an insect you like?"
The expressionless tail-flicker looked like he was about to crack. Without a word, he turned and walked away.
Kleiman didn't acknowledge him again until they returned to the habitat planet in the Third Quadrant.
At the moment, Clark was solo-clearing the territory of the Pedipalp-types and hadn't returned yet, so the meeting and conversation were postponed until the next day.
Before the storm arrived, Sakdi only wanted to hurry back to the nest, roll around in some grooming salts, eat something, take a bath, and then entwine tails with his mate.
It would be a lie to say he wasn't tired after continuous combat. This fatigue stemmed more from mental excitement and tension; once he relaxed, he instinctively craved rest.
Gera, who had been waiting at the docking rail early, lunged forward and hugged the black female he hadn't seen in a long time. At the same time, he couldn't help but glance at the Armed-type leader walking away with a cold face.
"Did you bully him again?" the male asked in a low voice.
As he asked, his pearl-white scaled tail wagged frantically. He couldn't help but bury his head against the other, continuously sniffing the familiar scent of pheromones.
Gera liked this slightly spicy, metallic scent very, very much. He wanted to roll around on the other like a puppy, coating his entire body in Sakdi’s aura.
" I didn't. I just suggested I could teach him how to pursue a mate, and he got angry."
Picking up his beloved, Sakdi maintained a perfectly serious expression. He worked hard to deflect responsibility. "I was just showing normal concern for a subordinate."
The male burst out laughing.
Nestled in his arms, Gera laughed until even the tip of his tail was trembling.
Sakdi’s own knowledge of romance had always been failing, yet he dared to talk nonsense and try to open a class for others.
The Core-type kept a straight face and began to tickle his mate, making the white insect curl up entirely, grabbing his arm while pleading.
"I was wrong, I was wrong."
Squeaking, Gera gave him a pleasing kiss, still laughing, his breathing slits trembling along with him.
"You are very impressive!"
"But don't look down on Kleiman; he's very popular with the males."
Explaining it to him while counting on his fingers, Gera’s expression took on a hint of playfulness.
"At least among the males working in the Great Information Nest, a large portion would be willing and eager to form a new small family group with him."
Essentially, the Armed-type leader was strong enough and held a high enough status within the Gray-wing tribe. More importantly, although he always looked cold, he was gradually showing a rare, softened attitude toward males.
Gera had heard more than once as insects nearby timidly and carefully inquired about the Armed-type squad, especially that "leader who looks fierce but is actually very kind."
A man’s competitive streak always flashes in inexplicable situations.
Like now.
Sakdi couldn't help but heft the other up slightly. "Am I not popular?"
To actually be outdone by the tail-flicker—his ridiculous sense of rivalry was stirring. It wasn't that he wanted to be a player, but a man couldn't admit he was lacking.
In response, Gera huffed and clung tightly to his neck.
"You are mine," the male said, word by word. "Whose popularity do you want?"
Sakdi: "..."
He knew. This was the legendary "death trap" of a question.
What’s more, Gera was indeed bold enough now to seize the other’s weakness and not let go. His high-arched little tail even gave the back of Sakdi’s hand a flick.
"And between us, I was the one who pursued you first!"
This time, Sakdi finally couldn't help himself either. He lowered his head with a smile and gave the white insect a tender kiss.
"Yes, I surrender. I’m not impressive; you’re the most impressive one."
A day and a half ago, he had tasted the fresh blood of the Sub-King—an extreme, rich fragrance that made him quietly suppress a slight sense of nausea every time he recalled it.
But now, his scent gland perceived the male’s pheromones.
It was a very sweet, fresh scent.
When he had ruled as a human, he spent most of his time residing in the Red Deer Palace. A river flowed through the courtyard, its surface covered with slender reeds and floating water lilies.
That ancient complex had survived the confrontation between the Shamanu Empire and the Old Federation, remaining perfectly intact. Its designer had referenced residual data from the Old Earth, combining the silent greenery of the East with the diverse architectural styles of the Nile basin.
Every day, when the star’s light pierced the morning mist and spilled onto the water’s surface, the blue-purple and white lotuses would bloom in succession, while figs and acacias hung their lush branches low.
The Egyptians of the Old Earth believed that the water lily could grant life. The blue lotus allowed the sun god Amon-Ra to be reborn at dawn, while the white lotus belonged to Osiris, the god of death.
The scent of aquatic plants lingered in his dreams.
Sakdi’s residual memories of these things stemmed from the fact that they were judged to be "part of the Old Earth culture with significant research value," and thus they had luckily been preserved to this day, not vanishing with his rebirth.
And now, he smelled a similar scent. The soft, warm male curled in his arms, looking up to kiss him with a serious expression, like a wisp of breeze blowing into his embrace from the river at dawn.
His heart, which had been floating in the universe, soaked in smoke and the smell of blood, suddenly landed on solid ground, falling into a pair of gentle arms.
He rested within the closed wings of his lover and closed his eyes.
"I'm home."
***
