“So, what the Broad-Wing Sub-King said was true.”
When Sakti stepped into the meeting nest once more, the silver-gray female’s expression already told him everything he needed to know.
It reminded the Core-Seed of the first time he had met Clark. Back then, they were two schemers, wary of one another, testing the waters with a distant, polite hostility. At that time, Sakti’s primary concern was finding the best way to twist the head off this high-ranking specimen wearing a human skin. Later, as their acquaintance deepened, he had moved Clark and the entire Gray-Wing tribe into the category of allies; the pursuit of mutual interest replaced their original suspicions and attempts to undermine each other.
As it turned out, fate had come full circle, trying once again to push them onto a sacrificial altar of life-and-death struggle.
*Very well, Fate,* Sakti thought. It had been a long time since he’d slapped that annoying thing in the face.
“You asked me before to spare the members of the Broad-Wing and Pedipalp tribes.”
When Clark finally spoke, his voice sounded rusty, stripped of its usual gentleness. The female sat in a corner of the vast space, his posture poised yet his expression unreadable, submerged in shadows where the light could not reach. His wings and tail-whip were drawn tight.
Unexpectedly, the first question he raised had nothing to do with their current predicament.
“Do you still stand by your original answer? Do you still intend to waste a massive amount of resources to properly settle the males and larvae of those hostile forces?”
The aggressive phrasing made Sakti raise his eyes. His body tensed.
Clark was different from Katla, Krisha, or that Broad-Wing Sub-King he had carved into ribbons. Clark was powerful. Even without consuming any remains, he had nearly reached the pinnacle of current Swarm strength. Moreover, this power was restrained, never flaunted. Even now, with the silver-gray female’s heart in such turmoil, not a single drop of aggressive pheromone leaked out; it was all wrapped and hidden with extreme self-control.
Once such a being became an opponent, he would be as powerful as a lion and as tenacious as a venomous snake, waiting for the most unexpected moment to strike a lethal blow.
However, Sakti had no intention of changing his answer. He didn't care what kind of "wrong medicine" the other had taken to suddenly want to break their agreement. On matters of principle, a single retreat meant a total negation of the path one had traveled. If a person entered a war with goals that could be easily and arbitrarily modified, it was no different from using all the sacrifice and death as fuel for self-gratification.
Every life lost would pay the price for such wavering desires.
“Nothing has changed,” Sakti said. “I will bring you the heads of two Sub-Kings, but I will never allow those males and larvae to be slaughtered.”
Clark looked at him. His lead-gray eyes were as calm as still water. There was no well-timed reasonableness, nor the usual helpless exasperation he showed when provoked.
“I choose to level every threat and crush every obstacle in my path. Am I to understand your words as a formal declaration of war?”
“If we cannot reach a consensus on this issue… then yes.” The Core-Seed sighed. Beneath his clothes, black scales already covered his skin. His internal tension was far greater than his relaxed tone suggested. Even so, his sharp-tongued nature hadn't diminished in the slightest. “But a declaration of war is going a bit far. Even if we fight, I don’t want to snap your head off. After all, Arthur is a friend to both me and Roxanne. We have to respect that bond.”
“After all, if you’re gone, he won’t survive either.”
“Do not bring him into this,” Clark said expressionlessly. “I will not show you the same tolerance I show Roxanne. I can empathize with your partner’s desire to mediate and I won’t pursue it, but if you direct the conversation toward my… human again, I will tear out that troublemaking tongue of yours immediately.”
“I’m not joking with you, and I’m not changing the subject.” The Core-Seed let out a scoff and sat down haphazardly. His long black tail pressed tightly against his back in a defensive posture. “And you’re right—I *am* using Arthur to pressure you.”
“I’m using him now, and I’ll use him in the future.”
“I don’t mind throwing a bucket of ice water on you to wake you up and cool you down. Do you know how you got out of that old King’s nest?”
Before the other’s wings could flare, Sakti looked into those lead-gray eyes and said, word by word, “It was your human who dragged you out.”
“Half of his exoskeleton muscles were shattered. He was burned like a sizzling roast chicken, practically dead. And then he dragged you, inch by inch, from the deepest part of that nest.”
“When I found you, the first thing he said was, ‘Save him.’”
“He said he liked you. I almost thought it was a horror story—what kind of human dares to court an insect? If he were my child or subordinate, I would have broken his legs and kicked him to the front lines of the war so he could see with his own eyes exactly how the Swarm used to eat people.”
Sakti closed his eyes briefly. He had never approved of their relationship; such complex emotions were too likely to become a source of mutual harm, and the identities of the two parties involved were far too sensitive.
“But he was too stubborn. He dared to travel alone from Kamlan to the Gray-Wing sector, and he dared to crawl into the old King’s nest alone to find you. When he was dragging you out, he didn't even realize he was crying.”
“At that moment, his gaze was so resolute that I realized I couldn't change his mind.”
“And now, the bastard he cried and begged me to save wants to slaughter the males and larvae of other tribes.”
“How dare you, Clark?”
Sakti’s golden-brown pupils elongated vertically, taking on the predatory look of a hunter.
“How can you sanctimoniously claim to love him like a young ward while wiping blood all over him? You project all your love for your lost young onto him, and then categorize all other members of your species as irrelevant enemies. ‘He is the only one I love, so the rest no longer matter’—if you dare to think that way, I will pin you down in front of those males and larvae and beat you.”
Clearly, the possibility of losing the fight was not within his considerations. A man could never say he "couldn't."
“Stop taking out our issues on other insects.”
In a sense, Sakti and Clark were natural allies of interest. Their shared status as females meant they would instinctively seek alliances, but also instinctively compete. When resisting external enemies, beings with the same biological attributes should fiercely defend their common interests and stick together. For instance, from the perspective of maximizing efficiency, males were consumables and enemy larvae were potential threats; the former should be collected and redistributed, while the latter should be crushed as quickly as possible.
However, the Gray-Wing tribe was currently moving in the opposite direction as a whole, a result Sakti himself had facilitated. He couldn't just watch his flimsy boss lose his mind.
“And you should at least consider all the Gray-Wings.”
When a Sub-King goes mad, an entire tribe follows. Take Krisha, or the decapitated Broad-Wing—the hybrids they bred were truly nauseating. The Gray-Wings had become quite humanized, but Sakti still remembered how the unmuzzled combat types had been filled with ecstatic joy as they chased and tore at enemy warships in the third quadrant, like a pack of mad dogs released from their cages.
“Right now, the other Core-Seed tribes haven't reacted yet, allowing us to take the initiative. Once they wake up and realize you’ve swallowed two lineages in one breath and wiped those two habitat sectors clean without leaving a soul alive, do you think they won't join forces to strike back?”
“Your military record is too glaring. It’s so bright that every neighbor will feel threatened.”
The Flash-Pattern and Mandible tribes were currently in a state of wavering. The simultaneous use of overwhelming force and soft-handed diplomacy would make them more inclined to cooperate. Combined with the Broad-Wing and Pedipalp tribes that were about to be fully absorbed, the ten core genetic tribes would likely reach a five-to-five balance. Sakti could then hold enough chips to force the other half to join the cooperation.
However, if the Flash-Pattern and Mandible tribes recoiled, the Gray-Wings would be forced to face a siege from all remaining core lineages.
“Don't drive yourself and your tribe into a dead end, Clark.”
Sakti adopted a rare tone of seriousness. Whether they could be allies or not, he had to pull this man back from the path of extremism. It was the same reason he had wanted Arthur Simmons to stay. Sub-Kings harbored a streak of paranoia; when their "scabbard" wasn't by their side, it was easy for them to step into the fires of war.
“Our problems end with you and me, but you can't drag the people and insects who truly care about you into your senseless bloodlust. Arthur, Kleiman, and most of the combat types—they give you their absolute devotion. They shouldn't be caught up in this. The Schism War already reduced your tribe by a third. Don't lose the rest.”
“How glib.”
The silver-gray female looked up, his expression finally clear. His usually soft tone was laced with sarcasm. “How many more flowery arguments can you produce? You always manage to describe things in a way that benefits you, Sa.”
A blade-sharp pheromone splashed out, and his silver-gray wings shimmered with the faint light of scales. All four lead-gray eyes looked at the Core-Seed who carried the bloodline he hated, their pupils narrowed into vertical slits.
“Only a ghost-possessed insect would take your words seriously. I should have cut off your head the first time we met, ripped open your chest, and torn out that beating heart. After all this time, you still haven't learned to kneel.”
Fine scales began to climb up Clark’s neck and arms, signaling that this overly powerful female was shifting toward a deep alienation form.
“We have never needed redundant mercy, and I do not need a pretender to the throne following me at all times.”
As Clark stood up, his wings and tail-whip fully unfurled—the precursor to a slaughter.
“Last chance,” he said coldly. “Put away your useless saintly sentiments. Learn how a real insect acts. Crush all the defeated tribes to show your determination not to betray us. Only then will I allow you to retract your declaration of war.”
“You need a wake-up call.”
The Core-Seed took a step back, knocking over an obstructive chair. Black scales covered his entire body, and his scaled tail snapped forward to coil in front of him, guarding against the imminent attack. Sakti, also having entered an alienation state, grinned.
“Fine. So talking won't work, eh?”
“Don't mind if I'm a bit heavy-handed. If I hit you too lightly, you won't wake up.” The pitch-black female said, his fine, sharp accessory teeth baring as he let out a low hiss of fury. It had been a long time since he’d felt true rage over a comrade’s stupidity. Whether human or insect, low-level provocations usually just amused him.
But the guy across from him had just about stepped over the line.
However, in the next second, a voice rang out.
“Clark.”
The person speaking was so familiar that Sakti froze. The tense, hair-trigger confrontation was instantly paused. The scene became somewhat surreal.
The person who had interrupted the conflict continued. “If you don't stop now, you two really are going to fight. As I said, he won't choose the other path.”
Accompanied by a slight sigh, one could imagine the speaker’s helpless expression, even as he didn't forget to offer a counter-appeasement. “Please calm down as well, Sa.”
“...”
In an instant, Sakti realized that Clark had been baiting him. If the other truly wanted to snap his head off, he would never have allowed Arthur to participate as a listener. This insect had a tendency toward overprotection; he always did his best to avoid showing Arthur the bloody side of things.
Clearly, the conflicted Sub-King had not yet reached a final conclusion, so he had used a volatile topic as a catalyst to repeatedly test the issues he cared about. For whatever reason, the bastard had turned off Arthur’s video feed but kept the audio link open. Thus, the human far away on Ja had heard their entire argument from start to finish, only speaking up when they were about to come to blows.
The Core-Seed was nearly incensed enough to laugh. Moments ago, he had used Arthur as a brick to smack the other awake, making grand speeches and waxing poetic about the touching bond between the youth and the Sub-King right in front of the person himself. Whether the human far away was currently cringing hard enough to dig out an aerial garden with his toes was not Sakti's concern. As long as his own skin was thick enough, the embarrassment belonged to others.
With an unreadable look, the Core-Seed glanced back and forth at the silver-gray Sub-King. The other didn't immediately retract his wings. After a short silence, Sakti had every reason to believe that his flimsy boss might just go through with the beating anyway.
“So?” Sakti asked, arms crossed, his expression fierce. Combined with his still-alienated head, the atmosphere was just right. “Am I part of your play?”
Clark still ignored him, but he slowly lowered his aggressive scaled tail.
“It’s nothing.” This was a response to the human. The silver-gray female’s tone was calm. “I’m talking with Sakti for a bit. I’ll contact you later. Are you going to rest?”
“I’ll wait for you.” Arthur’s reply was concise. He sensed the Core-Seed’s near-explosive state of mind, so he kept it short. “Please don't let yourself get hurt, Clark.” The youth repeated once more. “I’ll wait for your call.”
Sakti watched as the other disconnected the comms. His scales were in a state of half-retraction; he suddenly understood why Kleiman often puffed up like a pinecone. When one is truly speechless, the scales really do stand on end.
The Sub-King, having deactivated his alienation, slowly sat back down. From beginning to end, he didn't spare the Core-Seed a second glance. The parts he couldn't let go of were like deep, sharp thorns; they wouldn't simply vanish because of a few pretty words. Reason had become the reins of emotion, but the heavier parts of his soul weighed down his hatred, forcing him to make a choice between two equally difficult options.
“So this is the lousy idea you came up with.” As the hard armor vanished, Sakti shook his head. His rage had mostly died out, replaced by a lingering spark of annoyance and speechlessness. He understood the other’s indelible hatred for the Hard-Wing tribe; he had gone through the same process himself. When he had first opened his eyes to his new life, he had spent nearly every waking moment thinking about how to cut off insect heads. They were the same kind of creature; no one could criticize the other’s desire to destroy their natural enemies.
But that didn't stop the Core-Seed’s temples from throbbing. “I think you left your brain in outer space.” He reached out to right the chair he’d kicked over and sat back down across from Clark. “Making a slaughter declaration in front of Arthur… you never cease to amaze me.”
“I don't trust you,” the silver-gray female said wearily, finally restarting the conversation with Sakti. His gaze, however, fell on something further away. “What can you give me to earn my trust? You have too many secrets. You have Hard-Wing blood in your veins, yet you talk and laugh with human starships—you can command the Red Tai Sui to bolster the Gray-Wing’s core sectors, letting that terrifying blade guard the territory of a Core-Seed tribe.”
“You can speak human languages fluently, to a degree even I cannot achieve despite living with humans for years. No insect can trace your origins—Sa, is that even your real name?”
When the Sub-King looked over, those gray eyes were devoid of emotion. “You want me to trust an insect who cannot explain his own origin, who carries the blood of my enemies? That is like asking me to gamble with my entire tribe on a whim.”
“Anyone can say pretty words. But what do you have to prove yourself to me?”
“Interests. Power.” The pitch-black insect replied. His anger had completely dissipated, and he had cooled down into a negotiating state. His golden pupils looked directly at his ally without evasion. “I am willing to share every shattered scale and every piece of torn flesh with you. I will respect your will as I respect my own.”
When the Short-Wing tribe had bowed to Sakti, they had said similar things with earnestness, but Sakti never occupied a subordinate position. His arrogance allowed him to have fellow travelers, but never a superior master. Clark and he were both ambitious men; they could tolerate sitting on opposite sides of a long table to shake hands and talk, but they could never accept one climbing over the other.
In a sense, there were no beings more suited to be accomplices, bound together until death.
“I offer in return an alliance more stable than blood, closer than brothers of the same origin, and more unbreakable than a tribal bond.”
“Every cycle my heart beats, it will protect the Gray-Wing tribe as it protects my own. It will protect Arthur Simmons from all calamity and suffering. Just as I need you to guard my tribe in the same way, to block the harm heading for Roxanne when I cannot arrive in time.”
Interests and blood were the golden threads that bound adults forever, far stronger than the yarn spun by fate. Sentiment was fickle, and verbal promises lacked binding force, but the things above them would ultimately push them in the same direction.
“The head of the Pedipalp Sub-King, plus a stable, open trade route with the human upper echelon—these are the chips I offer in exchange for your trust.”
“Do your part, and I will handle the matters regarding the establishment of ports and trade zones. Whether it’s the usage rights for the Time River or the exchange of technical keys, you will never find a more suitable negotiator than me.”
Clark was no larva; Sakti had to put down a heavy, rare enough weight to tip the scales in his favor, beyond their short and peril-filled relationship.
“Arthur’s status issue will be resolved as well. He will no longer be a displaced person living in Kamlan with nowhere to go. He will have a long-term, stable path of retreat on the Imperial side, with the humans.”
Facing Clark’s long silence, Sakti did not rush him. He simply watched the other.
“Cooperation with humans will allow stagnant technology and mountains of energy to flow, enough to support the Swarm’s consumption during a state of ceasefire. The Gray-Wings can enter a period of development without relying on expansion and conquest for resources.”
“And what I want is to knead the fragmented factions into a single whole—by pressing a gun to their heads.”
“I want them to abolish the system of private ownership and sale of tribe members. I want them to open-source all technology except for core-key level and additional security grades.”
“I want to convene a collective meeting of the Ten Core Genetic Tribes,” Sakti said.
***
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Sacre-D: Reborn as the Swarm's Apex | Chapter 109 | The Price of Trust | Novela.app | Novela.app
