Sacre-D: Reborn as the Swarm's Apex | Chapter 16 | Toppling the Mountains | Novela.app

The Core-species, who had taken to Ja like a fish to water, quickly became acquainted with every insectoid in Angon. Before he had even completed two micro-cosmic cycles on the job, nearly all the workers had engaged in more than one "friendly exchange" with this socially unstoppable force. The insectoids eking out a living in Angon were divided into two categories. The first consisted of the "losers"—clans brought in by raider ships. They were essentially disposable resources, consumed in waves during every Sacrificial Match to provide the audience with a bit of bloody entertainment. The second category comprised the "commuters," pure laborers who were paid for what they did. As long as they weren't unlucky enough to encounter a death-match opponent like Sarkadi’s first adversary, they rarely faced fatal accidents. An occasional lost head was a negligible risk compared to the handsome rewards. Sarkadi did not participate in any more Sacrificial Matches. In such cruel events, the participants were almost always treated as cargo from defeated clans. Even if he showed mercy and spared an opponent, the crushed loser could rarely escape the fate of being dragged onto the high platform for the final blade. When a new batch of insectoids was transported into Angon, the black Core-species was perched at the very peak of the architectural complex with several of his newly made "good buddies," adopting a very insectoid, very anti-human posture. Several workers with particularly poor mimicry hung outside the nest like a cluster of giant beetles, one after another. Had the other insectoids not shown extreme terror at the prospect, Sarkadi would have preferred to fly onto the heads of those "Ancestors." One of the massive bald heads would have made an excellent resting platform—spacious and flat. During periods when the light was less intense, the insectoids were fond of sunning their wings. They would twist their heads back, tirelessly grooming their wing membranes with their mouthparts and forelimbs. Sarkadi had no such hobby. His wings were hard enough to chip a polishing machine; there was no need to pull them out for an airing. However, he noted this habit in his mind, planning to find a quiet place undisturbed by others later to bring the white male out for a sunbathe. Gera’s small white wings were soft and very "rua-able"; he would surely enjoy the warm light. "Ah, another group of unlucky bastards." An insectoid dangling at the nest entrance suddenly hissed. It raised its thin limbs and lifted its head to get a clearer view. Following its gaze, the Core-species saw over a dozen strange insectoids being driven into Angon. This scene had repeated itself many times over the recent period. After each round of Sacrificial Matches, very few losers survived. Even if they were lucky enough to cling to life, they would soon perish in the next round, or the one after that. Sarkadi withdrew his gaze after a few brief looks. Kai had left him a message bubble through the information linker, reminding him to visit the trading nest when he had time. A Middle-species with a somewhat shady supply chain had heard that the Core-species—the one who had turned his first Sacrificial Match in Angon into a bloodbath—was looking for weapons, and had immediately extended an olive branch. Experiencing the convenience of "idol status" in such a strange place left Sarkadi feeling quite conflicted. However, when he finished his long excursion to the black market and went to pick up Gera, he found that the male—who usually fluttered his wings with joy at the sight of him lately—seemed sickly and listless. The Core-species worker’s first instinct was that the other was ill or injured. He quickly scooped the male up and inspected him thoroughly, finding no external wounds. "What’s wrong? Are you unwell?" Gera shook his head, clutching the Core-species’ forearm and walking close to his side. "I’m fine," he whispered. Even after they returned to the nest, Gera’s mood remained dismal. "Was today’s lesson too difficult? Or did someone bully you?" The worker walked with a light yet steady gait, like a large feline, sitting down silently by the nest. Every movement carried a comforting rhythm. "It wasn't me, it was Kata. He looked very sad." The male huddled in the nest finally looked up, clutching a bundle of soft, quilt-like fabric. His expression was dazed. "A new batch of cargo was sent to Angon today. Two females died in the Sacrificial Match." Sarkadi arched an eyebrow, listening quietly as the male slowly organized his words. Gera’s face bore a look of unease that hadn't been seen in a long time—not since Sarkadi had softened his attitude and made it clear he wouldn't sell him. But now, shadowy emotions were haunting the white insectoid. "The participant in the Sacrificial Match was Katra." His voice was soft, as if he were feeling dread. "Kata said he is the victor of the Great Sacrificial Arena of Angon; no insectoid can defeat him. The fallen ones were devoured clean on the spot." Sarkadi could sense a great deal of anthropomorphic emotion from insectoids like Gera and Kata, but more often than not, he still felt an undeniable sense of "otherness" toward this race. He had seen images of the insect tide feeding—swarming together in a black mass, devouring everything they could find. Humans, exotic beasts, their own kind, newly laid eggs, wood, soil... when driven by extreme hunger, the Zerg would even gnaw on raw energy stones. Slaughter, feeding, and reproduction were essentially the overwhelming instincts bred into the very marrow of this race. He reached out and stroked Gera’s head, scratching the back of his neck like one would a cat to soothe his frightened companion. "He won't hurt you," Sarkadi said. "The insectoids in the street nests are all talking. They say that among the defeated clans sent this time, there was also a male." His body began to tremble uncontrollably, his teeth chattering slightly. Gera curled into a ball as if feeling a deep chill. "I heard the entire Great Sacrificial Arena went mad. The winning High-species dragged him out from a pile of females. The Middle and Low-species who were still alive are all dying... so much blood, blood..." "I know." Sarkadi covered the male's two pairs of eyes, lifting the white male along with the blanket into a full embrace, his hand slowly stroking the other's wings. In this dark environment filled with a sense of security, Gera felt a bit more at ease as he caught the scent of pheromones. He adjusted his posture to press himself tighter against the other. "Kata wanted to stop Katra from taking that male away, but he didn't dare." Gera gripped the black scaled tail that the High-species had wrapped around them, as if this action made him less afraid. "So Kata is very sad. He’s been wandering around the outskirts of Angon." No wonder the elderly administrator was nowhere to be seen when he went to the nest to pick up Gera today. Sarkadi let him clutch his tail, swaying it slowly. "Being abandoned by the clan... being taken away by a terrifying female... it really hurts." The male let out a faint, sleep-talk-like murmur. "It hurts so much I feel like I can't go on living." "I thought... if only they could eat me all at once. I could also take care of many, many eggs. I would hatch them well... if only it didn't hurt so much." For a split second, Sarkadi's golden-brown pupils shifted into aggressive vertical slits in the dim light. Once again, he understood clearly why the male had immediately performed a courtship gesture upon their first meeting. Gera had mistaken him for those Low-species worker crewmen who had harmed him; he had been wagging his tail and begging for mercy, praying for just a little less pain. It is difficult for a human to be a completely objective animal. Just as he had told the Red Polypore, uploading his personality into the Data Firmament would be nothing more than environmental pollution. When the insectoids were enemies, he could dispassionately tear off a string of Armed-species worker heads and skip those various carapaces across water like stones. But when he was a member of the race himself, with a victimized companion following him, he could not remain a mere bystander. Even within an aggressive race, there were distinctions between the strong and the weak. Sarkadi was never one to waste time on internal conflict. Identity, cognitive perception, and the contradictions between different races would always exist. The human part of his soul and the insectoid part were constantly attacking and biting each other, irreconcilable. In that case, he might as well flip the entire table and take a completely different path. He wanted the mountains to fall. Those gloomy, immovable, ancient, and massive mountain ranges—he would chip away at the foundations of those rocks bit by bit, hollow out the continuous mountain bodies, and crush them along with the giant nests attached to them. Then, he would knead this prickly, bloody mixture into a shape he was pleased to see. "Roxanne." Sarkadi called to him. He partially unearthed the male huddled in his arms and cupped the other's face with one hand. Those four damp pupils were half-open and vacant, as if caught in some waking nightmare. As his thumb pressed against the corner of an eye, the male blinked upon hearing the call, his fan-like lashes brushing against the fingertip. "Give me a little time," the black Core-species said. There was a strange steadiness in his tone that caused the male's gaze to refocus on his face. "I will do everything in my power to keep the things that hurt you far away." To this temporary teammate, he made a promise. In response, Gera emitted a faint buzzing hum. He pressed his face against the other's palm and did not move for a long time. Under the soothing touch, the male slowly drifted off to sleep, though the gloom and tension would not dissipate so quickly. Sarkadi patted him gently. The other's drooping wings and severed tail spasmed occasionally. "If you meet a very, very powerful opponent... it's okay if you can't win," the male mumbled softly. He had already fallen into a half-asleep daze, yet he still gripped Sarkadi’s arm tightly. "Just run away quickly." That half-length of white tail continued to twitch uneasily until it was entwined by the pitch-black scaled tail, only then gradually relaxing. When a new stellar day arrived, the tall Core-species knocked on the administrator's nest door. The elderly worker, who hadn't rested well, climbed out of his nest grumbling to open the door. "Arrange a new match for me," Sarkadi said. He looked at Kata, whose legs were still sprawling about from sleep, as if certain the other would not refuse. "I don't want energy stones for this match." "I want to take away all the losers who were still alive yesterday." *** **Glossary** Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation ---|---|--- 喀特拉 | Katra | A powerful High-species insectoid, winner of the Great Sacrificial Arena. 大祭祀场 | Great Sacrificial Arena | The main arena in Angon where major sacrifices and matches occur. 罗克珊 | Roxanne | A name Sarkadi uses for Gera. 微小宇宙循环 | Micro-cosmic cycle | A unit of time measurement used by the insectoids. 日抛型资源 | Disposable resources | Literally "daily-use/disposable resources," referring to the doomed loser clans. 走读生 | Commuters | Literally "day students," used here to describe insectoids who work at the arena but aren't part of the sacrificial stock.