The warning that "the scene might not be pleasant" was a mere politeness. The reality was far worse.
The entire surface operation was permeated by a cloying, nauseating atmosphere.
It had been a long time since Sakti had encountered an opponent who so brazenly employed hostage tactics—or rather, "kin-hostage" tactics.
Massive, grotesque heads stood in silent vigil, their skulls shaped in a myriad of bizarre forms, looking down upon an endless expanse of death. Back on the energy planet, Sakti had wanted to crush these eyesore statues along with the sprawling mountain ranges. Katla’s death had shaken the stagnant old order; blood had turned into fuel, forcibly pushing Ja out of its original orbit.
Any glorification of violence was undesirable, yet violence was often the most direct catalyst.
Idealists believed that all beings were born free, equal in dignity and rights, and that basic freedoms were "innate and inalienable."
But the facts suggested otherwise.
Verbal promises were worthless. The prerequisite for their realization was a sufficiently powerful and regulated means of enforcement—the timely imposition of punishment upon those who violated those rights. Otherwise, the cries and wails of the weak would be worth nothing. They—be they men, women, or creatures—could only comfort themselves in the mud, accepting the cruel reality while clutching unrealistic hopes like flickering candle flames.
When the disparity in power was too great, even a deathbed struggle seemed like nothing more than a trivial game.
The artillery of the Grey-Wings ground down all resistance, uprooting the grim steel fortresses that stood in their way. Stray shells leveled most of the towering stone heads; the shattered sculptures shed powder in flurries, covering the ground like ash or fresh snow. The veins of the earth pulsed with the rhythm of continuous explosions, trembling beneath their feet.
The high-tier species had first tamed the land, then the oceans, and finally the sky. With civilization developed to its current state, the natural disasters that once terrified biological life no longer held any weight.
They themselves had become the new natural disasters of the universe.
Wherever their firepower reached was filled with violence and upheaval. War easily tore through those majestic mountains and severed the rushing rivers. Yet, the Angon felt out of place amidst this high-tech aesthetic, as if one had stepped out of the space age and back into the primordial wild. No matter how the species evolved or how much time passed, those massive, emotionless statues kept their eyes lowered.
They watched the destruction of the old era, just as they watched the end of the species that had once shaped them.
After blasting open the gates of the Angon, even Sakti was forced to catch his breath for a moment.
His path here had been bloody enough. He had shown no mercy in suppressing any resisting Pedipalp雌虫 (female Zerg). Those who surrendered were lucky to keep their lives; those who struggled were strangled on the spot.
But none of that compared to the grotesque scene before him.
Previous reports had only indicated that a large number of male Zerg and larvae were found here, but they had not detailed their condition. When they were in space, the scanning results were limited, only providing analysis of the Angon’s exposed outdoor sections, such as the arenas and training grounds.
However, the interior caused nearly all the Grey-Wings in their alienated states to turn pale with shock.
Piles of corpses were stacked layer upon layer.
Most were male Zerg, along with some strangely shaped larvae. The Sub-King of the Pedipalp species had implemented a scorched-earth policy, slaughtering every member who might have been integrated into other groups in the future and tossing them before the invaders like a provocation.
It treated the males and the defenseless young as cold property, preferring to crush them rather than grant them a way out, refusing to allow these non-combatant members a chance to survive the war.
As had happened in the territory of the Broad-Wing species, the Grey-Wings—held on a tight leash by Sakti—had caused almost no harm to any Zerg who lost the will to resist. Most of the rescued had submissively accepted unified management.
The Pedipalp species, however, did not wish to see such a scene, so they chose to go mad first.
During the Old Earth era, humanity had engaged in behaviors that were strikingly similar yet subtly different.
The Hindi word *Jauhar* carried a similarly horrifying meaning: "collective sacrifice in fire," forcibly imbuing death with a cold, divine significance. When Sakti held his high position, all databases were open to him, from the secrets of the Old Federation during the White Emperor’s era to the paper records of Old Earth inaccessible to the general public. Even though humanity had abandoned their parched homeland to migrate into space, those terrifying words, spanning millennia, could still pierce through the page and sear scars into the scrolls of history.
On the ruins of Chittorgarh, bloody handprints were everywhere. Women dressed in magnificent red garments left crimson marks before throwing themselves collectively into the funeral pyres of the Rajput princes. When the Chittorgarh fort was besieged by foreign enemies for the third time, the number of women and children who martyred themselves exceeded ten thousand.
Whether voluntary or forced, history never gave the weak any options.
The difference was that humans draped such behavior in the guise of "devotion" and "loyalty," while the Zerg swarm directly tore away the facade of holiness and gentleness, choosing death for the frail.
The scent of blood in the air nearly made Sakti gag on the spot.
Normally, casualties on a battlefield merely signified a contest between two armed forces. Since they dared to step into war, the initiators should have been prepared to bear the corresponding consequences.
However, the sight before him was like an intense, violent fire, searing the depths of his soul.
His differing perspective had led him to a careless mistake.
Most humans could not be so crudely direct. They prided themselves on being distinct from beasts, which had caused Sakti, who had long identified as human, to let his guard down.
Revolution meant bloodshed and labor pains; casualties were inevitable. In his youth, he had been impatient to construct a utopia in the clouds, only to realize that living creatures could never fully eradicate their own inherent vices.
But even the "inhumane" Federation would not commit such a flaunting, exhibitionist act.
The Zerg swarm did not care for such nuances.
A large part of their thinking remained in a state of primordial ignorance.
The thirst to intimidate gave birth to cruelty; the urgency of a barren, dull mind triggered contempt.
Among them, Clark was the true outlier.
The silver-grey Sub-King was far more perceptive than his kin. Just as he had vaguely sensed the nature of the King Zerg ruins, the "Black Core" disguise that Sakti hadn't been particularly diligent in maintaining was crumbling before him. That was why the Sub-King had offered a warning.
At their first meeting, the high-tier Zerg had looked down and delivered a verdict: "Your way of thinking is unlike any other Zerg. This will cause you to suffer greatly when dealing with other bugs in the future." That distant prophecy was now coming true, piece by piece.
"Clear the area."
Quickly suppressing his fury, Sakti issued a clear command to the Grey-Wings beside him.
The equipment scanned every inch of the Great Sacrificial Ground. Much like how he had hollowed out the underground of Ja, this place also contained massive caverns.
"Check if there are any survivors."
The gathered subordinates scattered with a roar, conducting a carpet search.
The Pedipalp雌虫 had bound these horrors into an open book, smiling as they offered it for the invaders to read.
Several times, Sakti knelt down, rummaging through the stiff piles of bugs. Beside them were bloody scratch marks.
Some of the males were very small.
It wasn't a smallness caused by hunger, but because they were truly young, not even halfway through their sub-adult stage.
When he had found Gela, the boy was in his late sub-adult stage, only one step away from full maturity. Even so, the Black Core often felt the illusion that he was employing child labor; simply asking the boy to retrieve starship data felt like some sort of heinous crime.
He had mistakenly used human morality to judge an alien race, and now he had to bear the full brunt of the psychological shock and bitter fruit that followed.
The Zerg of other groups did not care about these things.
Males were consumables; larvae were potential competitors.
Entering the sub-adult stage granted the right to fertilize eggs; those who hadn't reached it could still serve as amusing toys.
"There's a survivor."
A Grey-Wing called out from a distance.
This was nearly the first survivor they had found since the search began.
When Sakti reached the subordinate's side, the Grey-Wing was crouching on the ground, looking somewhat at a loss.
He quickly understood why his subordinate couldn't bring himself to touch the survivor.
It was a very beautiful silver-grey male Zerg.
He was nearly at the level of a Core Gene species—young, beautiful, and already showing the beginnings of a fine mimicry even before reaching the sub-adult stage.
In contrast, the male's limbs were bent at unnatural angles.
His scaled wings were missing, his slender tail exposed shards of bone, and the blood on his lower body was so thick the wounds were invisible. It wasn't until Sakti reached out to pick him up that he realized with a shock that the soft texture came from organs that had spilled out of the body.
Since ascending to his high position, few things could drive Sakti into an uncontrollable rage.
Everything demanded that he exercise self-restraint and suppress his emotions. Anger was a synonym for incompetence and uselessness; it only interfered with the situation at hand. When fate slapped you across the face, you didn't waste a second on hysteria; you figured out how to raise your hand and slap back.
However, as he held that male larva who was still breathing weakly, hot blood surged into his head, nearly turning his two pairs of vertical pupils into pure molten gold.
Because of the tragedy before him.
And because this male's color, the patterns on his scales, and his shattered, incomplete mimicry all bore a striking resemblance to the Sub-King of the Grey-Wing faction.
Deep black scales instantly spread across Sakti’s entire body.
Both pairs of wings unfurled completely.
This farcical play was not only aimed at Sakti, but also at Clark.
Those things that deserved to go to hell had somehow found a bug with a similar form, carefully selecting him to ensure this male—who hadn't had time to grow up—was fresh and lovely. Then, they had utterly destroyed him through violence and forced mating before flauntingly pushing him in front of Sakti and his ally.
It was like a vivid reenactment of the bloody past the leader of the Grey-Wings had endured, blending the experiences of his partner and his young, and then laughing loudly with a voice that was far too disgusting.
Sakti stood up, cradling the semiconscious male.
His form, sliding toward the abyss of alienation, made him radiate an inhuman, terrifying aura. His four pupils were cold; the second pair of accessory eyes appeared as deep fissures, with gold overflowing from within, peering out at the world.
For a very long time, the black 雌虫 with a human consciousness had strictly controlled himself.
On a night long ago, a beautiful night filled with the scent of aquatic plants, his Morning Star, his Dawn, his pure white partner had rested in his arms. With a tearful expression, his partner had looked at him and asked: "Then where will your consciousness, your personality, your own joys and sorrows go?"
It was as if, after a long passage of time, fate had provided the answer in a roundabout way.
—From beginning to end, he was that monster who wailed and shrieked in rage.
Now, that same answer would be returned to the Pedipalp species who had done this.
His warships would traverse the sea of stars, leveling every inch of their territory. He would tear off the limbs of the enemy leaders using the same methods and press those audacious wastes into the roaring flames.
He would cut off the head of every 雌虫 who had participated in this, stacking those trophies that had once clapped and cheered into a mountain. The flowing blood would drown and wash away the silt that had accumulated at the bottom of the Angon for dozens of Great Cycles.
He would melt gold into a scalding liquid and pour it over the head of the Pedipalp Sub-King, then hang it atop the crumbling, tilted high platform of the Angon, ensuring that even after a thousand Great Cycles, the planet would be unable to extinguish that everlasting magma.
He would erase them completely from this universe.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 坚壁清野 | Scorched-earth policy | Literally "strengthening the walls and clearing the fields." |
| 拟态 | Mimicry | The humanoid form assumed by high-level Zerg. |
| 大祭祀场 | Great Sacrificial Ground | The central ritual area within the Angon. |
| 大循环 | Great Cycle | A unit of time measurement in this setting. |
| 核心种 | Core species | High-tier Zerg with superior genetics. |
| 晨星 | Morning Star | A poetic reference to Sakti's partner. |
