Some insects fled in a blind panic, scattering in all directions. Among them were the members of the Broad-wing tribe.
Because they were not yet formal employees and lacked the skill to operate the Nest’s systems, these males had not received the midnight notification. They remained oblivious until the Nesting zone erupted in explosions.
The Broad-wings were utterly unfamiliar with their surroundings. Having spent their days huddled cautiously within their designated work areas and residences, they lacked the courage to explore. This caution now cost them dearly; in the chaos, the males lost their way, instinctively running toward the location of the Great Information Nest.
These males possessed no wings. they could only stumble and scramble along the surface roads with great difficulty.
Along the way, members of the Gray-wing patrol were busy purging the hostiles who had landed on the surface. After a cursory glance, the patrol let the males pass.
However, the scrawniest Broad-wing, Kara, soon found himself unable to run any further.
He collapsed to the ground. Paralyzed by terror, he could no longer even maintain his humanoid mimicry. His companions tried to pull him up, but in an instant, the air was thick with the stench of despair.
Yet, before Kara could let out a buzzing wail, a gust of wind descended beside him.
Giant arms woven of steel gently gathered the terrified insect, who could only produce incoherent "ah-ah" sounds, and pulled him into a metallic embrace. The remaining three Broad-wings, none of them in particularly good health, were scooped up at the same time.
Expansive, pure white mechanical wings swept down, bringing the frail males under their protection before leaping lightly into the air.
The aberrant mecha, shaped like a hovering lacewing or perhaps a dragonfly, moved with incredible speed. Its external armor was unlocked and flared to its maximum extent as it shuttled at low altitude through the chaotic streets. It collected those in need of help one by one, then hitched them onto the tail behind it.
After arriving at the Gray-wing core system, Sarkdi had taken advantage of the abundant materials to upgrade Qiming several times. These upgrades included, but were not limited to, adding a moon-white whip-tail to the mecha.
The Core-species' original intent had been to optimize the machine's balance, aiding it in rapid directional adjustments during flight or combat. He never imagined his partner would currently be using that tail to skewer insects like a string of candied haws.
The sight of five or six insects neatly tethered to a single steel tail was truly a spectacle beyond words.
Many of these males had never experienced flight. Born without wings, they could not go to war like the females; for most of their lives, they were locked away in nests as tribal property.
The sudden sensation of being carried high into the sky frightened them into chirping incessantly. However, they were immediately slapped in the face by the rushing torrents of air, prompting them to sensibly shut their mouths and respiratory slits.
Only Kara kept his eyes wide open.
Though the wind blurred his vision, he couldn't help but stare at the scene before him, all while desperately sniffing the air.
For the first time, an insect destined to crawl forever upon the ground had taken to the sky.
Fragments of assault ships exploding against the vault of the sky shimmered with a golden-red light, looking like a multitude of falling stars.
The Gray-wing home planet was actually vast and beautiful. If one did not look down from space at the silk-like docking tracks and the countless tumor-like ships hanging from them, and instead merely observed the scenery within the atmosphere, the surface landscape was not much different from some human-inhabited planets. The undulating mountain ranges, deep rift valleys, and lush vegetation all merged softly with the backdrop of steel forests into a single whole.
Stars fell into the lake, fell among the swaying reeds, and melted into fine, velvety threads. The snow-white reed plumes were stained with brilliant colors. Even the Impressionist painters with the most precise grasp of color and light could not have reproduced such a scene.
"Ah..."
Kara looked at this sight—the only one of its kind in his meager life—and let out a tiny gasp of wonder.
Beyond the instincts of survival and obedience, he felt a clear sense of self-awareness sprout for the first time, triggered by strange things like beauty and the experience of flight. The thin male reached his arms toward the sky, as if trying to touch those falling stars.
Having delivered all the insects separated in the streets to the Great Information Nest, Qiming’s pilot successfully ended its execution state by manipulating the information connector.
The mecha, no longer hiding its form, perched beside the Nest, near the brothers En and Enna, who were guarding the heavy artillery. Its wings folded and unfolded like a quiet white orchid as it silently faced the Nest, as if it wished to take the entire massive structure into its embrace.
In contrast, the Great Information Nest, now connected to the remnant model of Kamlan, was crawling frantically. Every root had been unlocked, writhing in the air. They did not exist for amusement or to liven the atmosphere; those synapses acted as amplifiers, intercepting every sliver of minute information and communication.
The white male was buried among the deep red tentacles, his figure completely submerged.
But Xiao knew that the other had entered an alienated state.
In truth, all the males were struggling immensely, finding it difficult to withstand the redundant pressure generated by the link. Several had begun to bleed from their respiratory tracts, pink fluid dripping onto the link bolts.
Yet no one made a sound, and no one disconnected. To withdraw now would mean the excess pressure would immediately be redistributed onto the companions who were still holding on.
Gela possessed a perfect mimicry and preferred to maintain a near-human appearance, almost never revealing his original form. However, a truly liberated Nest would not allow such a thing. To hope to operate a fully activated beast while holding back was an impossible extravagance.
It was as if a half of his body, missing since birth, had finally become whole upon the successful connection.
The Great Information Nest, operating at maximum efficiency, was frantically intercepting all information sources, eroding its way through deep-space communications at an abnormal speed.
At the beginning, Gela could still synchronize his control of the information connector, finding time to command Qiming to perform simple rescues. But after three trips, he could no longer spare any energy.
Fine white scales covered his body. At the fissure in his chest, tiny tentacles wrapped around the link bolt, almost merging with the link element until they were indistinguishable.
It would probably hurt a lot when they were torn off later, the male thought hazily.
*Sarkdi is going to scold me.*
His partner would surely be very, very angry. Just like the first time he had secretly connected to the Great Information Nest; the other’s face had been dark as coal, yet he had still suppressed his fury to stroke Gela’s head through the distant holographic image and comfort him in a low voice.
The Nest’s deep red tentacles tightened, wrapping layer upon layer until they had woven a nearly airtight cocoon. It was like a soft, sealed womb, hiding the albinistic genetic defect deep within. It laid out every pathway, every permission, and every information-related secret in the universe before its user.
Just as Gela intercepted the internal communication channel of the Leg-wing species, a massive influx of other data happened to flow in. This caused the pressure on the male, already nearing his limit, to spike again.
As the Great Information Nest interfaced with the wreckage of the Kamlan model, these two behemoths spoke in a language no one could understand, exchanging massive amounts of data at a speed humans could scarcely comprehend.
The way each record was presented did not belong to any existing written language, but the male, who shared a deep mental link with the Nest, understood it. He "read" those chaotic images like bytes arranged into the language of truth, the speed so fast he couldn't even process what he was "seeing" in the moment.
Until some deeply buried, minute data flashed by, seeping through the cracks of the interaction.
It was a discarded text that no one had ever seen, like a drop of water in the ocean, meant to go unnoticed.
*Cultivation Report: Human Gene 001 — Developmental Malformation [FAILURE]*
*Human Gene 002 — Development Arrested [FAILURE]*
*Human Gene 003 — Developmental Malformation [FAILURE]*
*Human Gene 004 — Transcription Terminated [FAILURE]*
*Human Gene 005...*
*...*
*...*
*Human Gene 013*
*Special Sequence Object \*\*\**
*Pollution Source 000*
*Sample Contamination Level: Low*
*Entering Pupation State*
*[SUCCESS]*
*\*\*\*\*\*\**
"I'll drive."
The black Core-species signaled to the other, preparing to replace the injured Sub-King.
However, Clark did not move. "We need to rendezvous with the medium ships. You handle the weapons systems."
The light ship carried a limited number of weapons; they had to be used sparingly while trapped at low altitude. If they couldn't break the blockade before their ammunition ran out, they would be dragged beneath the surface forever.
Without another word of nonsense, the Core-species immediately sat in the co-pilot's seat.
They both looked like a mess. The contamination on the Sub-King's wings was spreading, while Sarkdi himself was covered in the remnants of tides and black mud, looking as if he had just been pulled out of a mire.
The Leg-wing fleet loomed over their heads, prepared to crush all the Gray-wings here once and for all. The defense system of this core planet had been completely torn apart back when Sarkdi landed. The giant heads that had stood around Angon for countless years had utterly collapsed, more than half of them already sunken below the ground.
After the fierce battle and slaughter, the wails and roars would cease, and the planet would eventually be shrouded in silence and death once more. Before that, the Leg-wing species chose to make one final counterattack.
The small ships that had also breached the atmosphere were hounding the Gray-wing Sub-King’s craft, impossible to shake off.
Sarkdi, not knowing much about the other's piloting skills, wanted to ask "Can you handle this?", but then he realized his companion was very capable indeed.
Unlike the Core-species' reckless, life-disregarding style of driving, the silver-gray female drove with great stability, minimizing unnecessary jolts while performing sudden ascents or evasive maneuvers at the most unpredictable moments, striving for a perfect hit every time.
The other craft involved in the rescue mission followed on both sides, quickly pulling into formation to follow their tribal leader in a breakout charge.
"Don't worry. If we really crash, I'll personally tear them all down with my bare hands," Clark joked, still having the strength for it.
"More than that, I think..." Sarkdi’s sympathy was genuine. He was still in his alienated state as he sniped a bothersome pursuer with a single shot. Smoke and fire traced a parabola as the shattered fuselage fell toward the encroaching darkness of the ground. "You should think about how you're going to survive Arthur's inspection."
He still remembered when he had taken the Armed-species to set off "cosmic fireworks"; he had been slightly injured during the beachhead landing, smelling of blood. Gela had stared at him expressionlessly. The male hadn't said a word, but his eyes had said everything.
Strictly speaking, because of his mistake this time, his dignified and poised brother was definitely in for a storm in the future. A human kid who could politely smile while shooting you in the back during a simulation battle would only be harder to deal with when truly angry.
The Sub-King, long accustomed to making his own arrangements, clearly hadn't realized this yet.
As soon as he finished the sentence, Sarkdi saw the other's smile vanish. Smiles didn't just transfer; they could disappear just as easily.
Clark almost reflexively tucked his wings further behind his back.
"..."
"Shut up," the Sub-King said succinctly.
The Core-species was tactful enough not to continue laughing out loud. He wasn't the driver right now, and there was a universal truth in the cosmos: do not easily provoke a pilot while they are flying.
"Can we make it?" He shifted the topic quite smoothly.
The Leg-wing medium ships had collectively activated their defensive barriers, intending to seal off the upper, middle, and lower layers of space, completely severing the connection between the enemy leader and the main fleet. Those flowing barriers were converging above them, closing at a visible speed.
"Hold on tight."
The other didn't even look up as he pulled the light craft into a vertical ascent. The sheer force of the impact nearly flipped the entire vessel—it was the kind of maneuver that could scramble a person's brains.
The pitch-black female laughed. He braced his legs against the seat and took out another enemy wingman that was tailing them with two shots, clearing the path for the other Gray-wing members.
"Nice one, brother," Sarkdi said.
***
