Angon quickly gathered an unimaginable number of Zerg.
As the victor of the Great Sacrificial Arena, Katra occasionally participated in sacrificial matches, but it had been a long time since a female had been audacious enough to challenge this high-ranking superior to a deathmatch.
Furthermore, the challenge had not followed the conventional process.
Before a formal invitation could even be issued, the insurrectionist challenger had bitten off a small section of Katra’s neck. Such a provocative act—grinding the opponent's dignity into the dirt—was unprecedented.
Countless eyes watched the floor of the Great Sacrificial Arena. Densely packed Zerg clung to every inch of Angon’s ground and walls like lizards and beetles. They converged with unimaginable speed, transforming the place into a new, giant hive.
The rustling of wings and the endless, sibilant hissing sounded like persistent whispers echoing throughout the arena.
The females were expressionless. They no longer shouted with the excitement typical of sacrificial matches; instead, they became like standing statues, looking down alongside the massive, grotesque stone heads. They were like a flock of cruel observers, watching from the sidelines like vultures.
They were waiting to feast on the corpse of the loser, waiting for the birth of a new king.
The monotonous, humming drone became a white-noise background, a part of the ritual.
In the center of the arena, the black and red monsters were locked in a struggle, indistinguishable from one another.
Falling scales were flung out along with flesh, and the splashing blood quickly corroded the ground, adding new strokes to the massive spiral patterns.
Sakti adjusted his rhythm rapidly, but he inevitably fell into a disadvantage.
Every one of Katra’s attacks was faster and stronger than before. The labels of "massive" and "clumsy" did not apply to it; this troublesome opponent possessed both speed and strength, suppressing Sakti with a flexibility unimaginable to humans.
As the degree of alienation deepened, human reason gave way to bestial instinct.
Their pheromone glands were exposed to nothing but the pungent scent of each other’s information, making their already boiling blood even more uncontrollable.
The black core-species wrenched his arm from the other’s mouth, shaking off the dripping blood.
The crimson female was also in a state of deep alienation.
Its grotesque skull was narrow and long. When it opened its mouthparts, saliva dripped down. Sharp, blood-stained secondary teeth protruded from its maw, looking as if someone had sliced the corners of its mouth with a knife to pull it into a localized, terrifying smile. It chewed the enemy’s flesh, then swallowed the chunks mixed with acidic blood whole.
Sakti's pitch-black scales provided limited defense against the opponent’s sharp teeth and hooked claws.
Conversely, Sakti often had to land one hit followed by another just to break through those red scales and cause damage. Having suffered a great loss earlier, the champion now guarded its relatively fragile neck tightly, giving the opponent no chance for a finishing blow.
In truth, Katra was furious.
Within a single day, its status had been challenged repeatedly. An escaped male had already stepped on its bottom line, followed by a bunch of low-level trash assisting the male. Then, this intruder—crawling out from who-knows-where—had caused it to lose face in an unprecedented way, smearing filth upon its inviolable majesty.
If it did not tear the opponent completely to shreds, it would become the greatest laughingstock in Angon’s history.
Scraping off the opponent's scales once more, the challenger stumbled back two steps. The scales were stained with blood from being forcibly ripped out.
Katra spat the hard mass onto the ground.
The red high-species flexed its claws, making a crushing motion.
"I’m going to crush you... like a little fly," it said, letting out a sibilant laugh.
The pitch-black female was also in an alienated state, and because he did not grin, no expression could be seen.
However, Sakti’s voice sounded very calm.
"You can have everything you want... in your dreams."
His words made the conversation even more infuriating to the other Zerg. Sakti’s stability sometimes had a way of equally and indiscriminately traumatizing everyone he spoke to.
Katra was clearly no exception.
The Zerg did not have a tradition of trash-talking. Their mental attacks mostly stopped at the level of "I’ll eat your whole tribe’s brains," which was truly harmless and ineffective. Thus, the furious tyrant let out a series of cackling, screeching sounds, like the strange chirping of insects in autumn, and even the scales on the back of its neck stood on end.
When it lunged, the black insect leapt nimbly, flipping onto its back with extreme speed. Sharp claws and secondary teeth attempted to tear open its nape and snap its spine.
But the crimson tail-whip was faster, instantly coiling around the challenger’s hind leg, swinging him through the air before slamming him into the ground.
Before the next attack could land, Sakti forced himself to roll out of the crater he had made, dodging a heavy blow that would have been enough to shatter his skull.
He used to enjoy slamming other Zerg’s heads into the ground; now, it was time for retribution.
Like a cat toying with a mouse, Katra paced unhurriedly. Every time the black core-species stopped to catch his breath, it would suddenly accelerate again, forcing him to dodge.
Sakti showed no anxiety.
He climbed up time and again, dealing with his opponent with steady, calculated moves.
The information gained from watching the battle from a distance earlier was far less thorough than what he learned by engaging directly.
To win this fight, he had to deconstruct the red high-species piece by piece, like dissecting an insect's corpse. Whether it was the movements of the attack or the physical characteristics, the hidden Achilles' heel would only be exposed through continuous testing.
His physical strength wasn't as good as the opponent's, but his endurance had always been far superior.
The black female ran across the field to dodge attacks, and then he spotted a small white figure among the Zerg in the front row.
It was like returning to the first core-species battle. Back then, Gera had also been clinging tightly to the stone railing, looking like a panicked, uneasy puppy abandoned in a tattered cardboard box.
Immediately after, he saw the dark brown worker-female not far behind Gera.
Sakti’s head throbbed. He felt like his group of subordinates was trying to stage a collective rebellion. Not a single one of them had followed his instructions.
The red high-species was as persistent as a piece of cured leather. It didn't just want a victory; it wanted an unprecedented slaughter.
It would break the challenger’s limbs one by one, then the tail, then the wings, and finally disembowel him. It would snap off that head—the one with the composure that made it sick—and hang it at the highest point of the Great Sacrificial Arena to serve as a decoration that would draw the eyes of visitors for countless Great Cycles to come.
Whenever Sakti slowed down even slightly, it would flash before him with unimaginable movements, tearing away a piece of flesh with a combination of pulling and biting.
"You saved that male. Are you its mate?"
The red reaper hissed in a low drone, malicious light flickering in its narrow pupils.
"Have you heard its pleas for mercy? It begged me, saying it had a mate. Its screams were truly beautiful to hear."
"Are you the 'useless waste' it was talking about?"
It had stepped on two landmines at once.
Katra’s voice wasn't loud, carrying a deliberately lowered base noise. Sakti wasn't sure if the other Zerg at the bottom of Angon could hear its words.
But he had to make it shut up.
When he was human, he had seen many similar scumbags. Facing interrogation and questioning, they were filled with an eagerness to show off their past achievements, recounting stories of victimizing their own kind over and over.
It was difficult to measure the Zerg with human morality, but his personal fastidiousness began to flare up.
He did not want the other Zerg to refer to Selin and Xiao as "those two unlucky ones toyed with by Katra" during the next few Great Cycles.
So, when the red high-species lunged again, he did not dodge.
The black female caught the opponent’s attack. As he stared at the grinning, panting red beast from inches away, he let out a provocative hiss.
"Is your head still down because your neck still hurts?"
The effect of the mental blow was instantaneous, causing Katra to explode in rage.
It roared and delivered two flying claw strikes. Sakti lost a large patch of black scales while blocking, and the two females became locked together again.
Katra had been keeping its vital areas tightly protected under red scales, especially the heart in its chest. The hardest scales on the red high-species' entire body were concentrated there.
Only the large, newly healed puncture wound on its neck showed a lighter color. New scales required one to two days to fully harden and return to their previous state.
Thus, Sakti set his sights on the opponent’s neck.
Whenever he found an opportunity, he would add a few more bites to that neck, preventing the wound from healing completely.
The myths of Old Earth humans were full of head-related motifs. Early humans, like the Zerg, believed the soul often resided in the head; the head was seen as a separate and sacred part of a sacrifice. The Zerg believed that after death, consciousness would return to the Swarm, which was why massive statues were cast to surround Angon.
The head and the heart were the only two non-regenerative organs for the Zerg.
Tearing open the opponent’s chest was fraught with difficulty—every part of Katra’s body was incredibly hard—but that precarious neck was full of temptation.
He was going to twist that arrogant head off.
As they twisted into a knot, the airflow from Katra’s respiratory slits sprayed onto him.
"You have a lot of nerve."
The crimson giant once again swung its opponent and slammed him into the ground, followed by a vicious claw strike to that obstructive black scaled tail, crushing several bones. The intense pain in his tail caused Sakti to let out an irregular breath for the first time.
But his movements did not stop for a second. Using the opponent’s claws as leverage, his tail-whip coiled in reverse around the red forelimb. The saw-like barbs dug deep into the flesh, attempting to rip the limb off.
Katra pulled back sharply, its arm torn with long gashes by the serrations.
Neither side gained an advantage in this brief round of confrontation.
The black core-species' degree of alienation was still deepening, reaching a level he had never experienced before. Along with this alienation, his human parts were gradually peeling away, while his speed and strength were slowly increasing.
"You really do have a lot of nerve," the victor of the Great Sacrificial Arena said slowly. It also showed signs of shortness of breath, but it still finished its previous thought. "After you die, I will catch your male and hang both your heads together on the high platform of Angon."
The opponent was clearly referring to Xiao, but Sakti had no doubt the white male would deliver himself to the door.
The core-species had zero desire for his and Gera’s heads to attend an exhibition together. Nor did he wish to see all his subordinates lying in pieces around him, with Katra holding a giant banner saying "One Big Happy Zerg Family."
"Your head has much more ornamental value," he said insincerely. The pain from his shattered bones was maddening. Even with a core-species female’s healing ability—which was higher than the norm—he couldn't instantly return to full health.
The deepening alienation made his rationality precarious. Slits opened beneath his eyes, and a second pair of pupils was eager to surface.
"Before I kill it, I will make the entire Great Sacrificial Arena hear its wails. I will pin it right here, pressing your desperately struggling little mate down on the very spot where you died, and then all the Zerg will watch with their own eyes as I—"
The black female didn't wait for it to say anything else that would pollute his hearing. He flipped the opponent entirely onto the ground.
The second pair of golden pupils emerged completely.
As if crossing the final point of no return, all human characteristics vanished from Sakti. The pitch-black creature crouched on all fours, pinning its enraged opponent in an offensive posture that was entirely non-human.
Four cold, pure gold eyes locked onto the opponent’s neck. Even in the midst of their rolling struggle, he did not miss a single chance to bite through the other’s throat.
The wrestling caused them to shatter a section of stone railing and the ground.
The red giant’s mouthparts bit through half of the opponent’s shoulder, but in the next second, the pitch-black tail-whip coiled around the opponent’s repeatedly attacked neck with a force that could sever anything.
Swirling dust and stone chips showered the two beasts, mixing with blood on their bodies to form dried, filthy crusts.
Katra used both tail and claws to tear the opponent’s tail away.
But the core-species, with his boosted strength, chose close-quarters combat once again, giving the opponent no chance to retreat, welding his wounds deep into the other’s neck.
Crimson claws tore at the scales on his chest; Katra wanted to gouge out the challenger’s heart, while its enemy wanted to hack off its head.
When they briefly separated again, the core-species spat out a mangled vocal organ—he had ripped it from the opponent’s throat.
Now, the noisy King of Angon was finally silent.
The black female now looked as if he no longer had any connection to humanity. He panted heavily, and the respiratory slits at his waist opened and closed rapidly at an irregular frequency. Every breath was accompanied by a gurgling sound as blood flowed back and choked him.
Blood, somewhere between pink and deep crimson, flowed down his grotesquely shaped head, blurring around his open mouthparts and dripping down mixed with saliva. His sharp secondary teeth were like blades, capable of easily biting through any opponent’s limb, exhibiting the most primitive traits of a beast.
Beneath those eyes that had turned completely to molten gold, within the deep slits, the second pair of pure gold pupils rotated. It was as if a creature of the abyss had pulled back a corner of its disguise, peeking at the world from the shadows.
This was a scene even more terrifying than the first core-species battle.
Indescribable emotions gripped the white male watching all of this, making it impossible for him to breathe properly. Within this mixture of endless worry, alarm, fear, and prayer, he felt another strange, discordant element.
It was an instinct more overwhelming than any emotion learned later in life, welded deep into the genes of every Zerg—fighting, feeding, reproducing, and beyond that, possessiveness.
No human could understand this abnormal emotion unique to the Zerg.
Just like in the King Worm era, when the Swarm still used collective consciousness sharing under a mental link, the high-ranking core-species would guard the King Worm’s nest, preferring to be crushed into pulp rather than retreat a single step before death.
His reason could not yet distinguish it, but his abnormal mental power had already allowed him to touch the hidden truth, the edge of destiny.
This was his monster, his King Worm.
Something was stirring deep within his body. Every time Gera tried to probe him more clearly, a violent headache would stop the male’s actions.
He felt as if he were standing at a point of migration. Instinct screamed at him, telling him that once he leaped over this difficult node, he would gain a broader space, and the fears that had long suppressed his breathing would dissipate.
It was as if the sound of weeds and plants growing was spreading through his body, connecting into thin, white tentacles. They took root and sprouted along his brain, climbing into every corner of his body, wanting to devour and reorganize the parts that were stubbornly fixed.
But his strength was not yet enough. He could not break that thin membrane; he could not suddenly find relief like a drowning person surfacing for air.
Just then, the dark brown female finally squeezed through to Gera’s side.
Selin had only been a bit slower than the other, but that bit had cost him more time than imagined. Not a single observing Zerg was willing to give way; they were like somber corpses, standing straight in the path forward.
Gera was truly too thin and small. Once the surrounding females became agitated, he could easily be trampled and injured.
The white male had been bleeding for some reason earlier. The blood seeping from his nose and eye sockets had just been wiped away, but the sweet, cloying scent that lingered around him as pheromones leaked out remained persistent.
Selin had to divert some energy to keep the intently watching Zerg a distance away from Gera.
When he finally looked up at the center of the arena, he couldn't help but let out a terrified gasp.
He had never seen Sa in this form.
When spending time with the short-winged species, Kai, Gera, and Kata, the other had always shown very humanized emotions. Unlike the human-skin disguises of some high-ranking species he had seen, the black female was very natural, as if those human-like gentle attitudes were an innate part of him.
But the Sa he was familiar with no longer existed.
In the center of the arena, only an extremely beautiful, pure beast remained.
Unlike the metaphysical beauty described by humans, this was a beauty closer to primitive biological instinct, devoid of impurities. It used strength as its soil, took root in evil desires, devoured flesh as fodder, and then rapidly grew into a monster that all living things feared.
It was locked in a biting struggle with Katra, their black and crimson scaled tails intertwined. This was not the friendly tail-touching of companions; the whip-like vertebrae stood up one by one like the teeth of a chainsaw, twisting with a force meant to crush the other’s body.
In an instant, they left deep wounds on each other’s tailbones. When the two tails tore apart, the serrations were still hooked with broken scales and chunks of meat.
Several times, Katra almost caught this annoying mudfish, even breaking several bones in the opponent’s chest. However, the pitch-black core-species only used the opportunity to close the distance, biting down on its neck without hesitation.
A heatless fire burned in the four cold golden eyes, discarding even useless emotions and the sensation of pain.
Equally shocking to Selin was the discovery of several armed-species among the crowd.
This challenge was different from the small skirmishes of the past; it had finally alerted those high-and-mighty core ethnic groups. The satellite garrison belonging to the core genetic groups had deigned to visit the surface in person, just to witness the outcome of this regime-changing challenge.
Those armed-species, like the other observers, said nothing. They simply stood in the shadows of the Great Sacrificial Arena, staring at the center of Angon. Their eyes held judgment, but neither battle intent nor joy nor excitement.
Selin’s mind became a mess.
He was worried about Xiao, worried about his own tribe. With the armed-species personally on the surface, he wasn't sure if any ships could still take off. If Sa fell in the struggle and his short-winged companions could not leave, what awaited them would be total destruction.
He needed to find a route to send the white male and Xiao away together.
With just a moment’s distraction, the two beasts in the arena had already rolled through two more rounds.
The black core-species was gradually figuring out the opponent’s upper limits of speed and strength. Many of his bones were broken, and the female’s amazing self-repair ability couldn't heal so many wounds in time—moreover, healing required energy, and that energy didn't appear out of thin air.
So, in another close-quarters clash, the black core-species bit the opponent’s shoulder and neck fiercely. Before Katra could grab him, he bit off a large chunk of flesh and retreated rapidly.
He still held that piece of raw meat in his mouthparts. His long, thin tongue coiled around it, sending it whole into his mouth. Blood he didn't have time to swallow overflowed from his closed mouth, sliding down in drips and mixing with his own blood.
This act made him look like a typical Zerg.
The spiral patterns of metal and stone continued to shatter, but after the slightly acidic blood splashed onto them, new, overlapping spirals would form.
Hunger, pain, and excessive consumption were enough to drive almost any Zerg mad.
Katra’s self-recovery was still continuing, but it had clearly become very slow. Just as human wound healing has a certain limit, the Zerg were simply physically tougher and had stronger self-healing abilities, rather than infinite, endless recovery.
In contrast, the black core-species' body regeneration mechanism had reached its limit. Torn scales no longer regrew, and torn wounds healed at an extremely slow pace.
Blood clouded his eyes, and everything in his red vision had gone mad.
The pheromone glands and other senses replaced part of his visual function. The shapes of objects, distances, and different heat sources formed a picture of various colors. This alien-like body was pushed to its limit, every cell screaming with the instinct for battle.
Katra had nearly torn open his chest several times. The shattered, fallen scales could no longer effectively protect the heart beneath. When the crimson high-species found the right moment to slam the black female into the dust, its strength brutally dislocated a string of his joints—some were twisted out of place, others were simply crushed.
For a moment, the core-species could not climb up in time.
The Zerg had a lower requirement for oxygen and carbon dioxide, but it wasn't zero. The violent slaughter caused him to show symptoms similar to hyperventilation. The dislocated joints couldn't be reset in time, making him unable to flip over.
Katra bit through those obstructive black scales, wanting to carve out that whole, beating heart.
"No..."
Gera gripped the stone railing almost convulsively. He watched the black female make a futile struggle, while Katra’s sharp claws were about to rip open the chest of the defeated one below.
That was his mate. That was his monster. Even death could not take the other away from him.
He reached out toward the core-species.
Before reason, instinct had already made the white male extend his arm. The roots coiling in his mind rustled, extending soft, invisible white tentacles that spread out into a sticky, dense spiderweb.
In the King Worm era, the Zerg generally believed the head was the place where consciousness was preserved; when the body died, consciousness returned to the Swarm. Unlike humans who used the Data Canopy to set up a River of Time, the Zerg’s mental link used every biological unit as a carrier to build a collective consciousness monument in the void.
Since the end of the King Worm era, no Zerg had been able to bear such a massive mental link.
The four golden eyes of the core-species lying in the dust widened.
At the critical moment, Katra’s attack was stretched into slow motion. At the same time, it was as if something had stirred the black female’s brain in an instant, pulling his exhausted limbs in his stead, forcing him to drag his falling-apart body and break free from the seamless confinement.
This command was directly engraved on the genes, engraved in the mental sea of every Zerg. Even death could not slow their steps toward the call.
The anomaly lasted only an instant. As a former human who had never experienced the King Worm’s call for the direct guards of the nest, he could not judge where this abnormal feeling came from.
The core-species broke several ribs in the process of escaping. But as he crouched on the ground after kicking the opponent away, he had already caught his most difficult breath.
Amidst Selin’s cry of alarm, the white male knelt down.
Crimson liquid dripped from his nose and eye sockets again, and even his ears began to seep blood. Those red lines meandered and flowed, soaking into the ground.
This eerie sight of bleeding from the seven orifices startled the medium-species; he thought the other was injured or ill and almost wanted to pull Gera away immediately.
But the male shook off his hand, stumbling as he turned to grab the stone railing, looking at the two females in the arena.
His vision became flickering and uncertain. Gera gripped the railing tightly. He was about to touch that node. But he didn't have the strength to try again.
By now, the black core-species had already flipped the opponent who had been suppressing him, quickly resetting his dislocated bones and giving Katra a violent impact. Then, in a low-crouched posture, he pounced like lightning on the thrown enemy. Before the other could climb up, his entire body weight was pressed onto the crimson female’s thick defensive scales, pinning the opponent’s spine, tightly grabbing the other’s scaled tail, and twisting it in the opposite direction.
The red tail-whip let out a crisp snapping sound.
Katra let out a roar of intense pain, and the scaled tail hung down limply in an abnormal posture.
Having gained a breather, the pitch-black female had regained his pace. Taking advantage of the opponent’s pain, he bit the opponent without mercy.
Desperate to get away, the high-species raised its red wings and leaped into the air.
They fell from the high platform to the ground, then fought from the ground into the air.
Katra let out a loud, bloody laugh. Its laughter echoed throughout the Great Sacrificial Arena. The vocal organs that had only recently healed made its hiss sound exceptionally hoarse.
"Admit it, you are just like me!"
The broken tail made its flight path even more distorted than usual, but there was no sign of slowing down.
"The first moment I saw you, I knew you and I were the same kind of creature!"
The core-species ignored it completely.
Aerial combat was a field he was even less familiar with. The high speed during a dive, similar to a peregrine falcon, meant there was zero room for error.
As they crossed and slaughtered each other, the collision of hooked claws made a clanging sound, and sparks almost flew between the hard bones and scales.
For a moment, they crashed together. The terrifying high-speed vibration shattered large patches of scale armor, and blood-stained red and black scales showered down.
The crimson female yanked its opponent over. It had lost its tail-whip, but its pair of forelimbs remained powerful, snapping every bone in the annoying fly as it squeezed tightly.
The bones throughout the black core-species' body made a series of cracking sounds. It was the wail of a body that had reached its weight-bearing limit.
But his golden eyes looked straight at the opponent, not looking away for a second.
As if driven by ferocity, he pressed his entire weight forward, crashing straight into the opponent, into the embrace of the red reaper. Katra’s hooked claws snapped his arms and then tore open his sternum.
But the core-species was unmoved. Like a vicious beast, he bit down on the other’s throat in one go.
The neck that had once been half-shattered burst open again.
The crimson high-species wanted to pull its arm out to stop the opponent, but the whip-like black scaled tail coiled and tightened, not letting its arm advance another inch.
Once a beast bites its prey, it will never let go. The damaged wings, flowing with iridescent scales, suddenly accelerated, carrying him and his opponent down at a speed difficult for the eye to catch, crashing straight into the floor of the Great Sacrificial Arena.
The giant stone floor collapsed beneath them with an earth-shaking boom.
Broken secondary teeth snapped off in his mouthparts, almost choking him through the windpipe and slicing his throat, making every breath of the black core-species accompanied by a terrifying gasping sound. The back-flowing blood dyed his four pupils a crimson-gold, but even so, he did not let go of the opponent.
Warm liquid splashed all over him; now, their colors were almost the same.
The neck, struck heavily once again, was in a state where it could no longer stand upright.
The core-species wanted to go a step further and bite it off, but the opponent’s sharp claws nearly pierced his heart. Katra struggled to stand upright, but the enemy held it down firmly; they were in a half-kneeling posture.
The black hind legs locked the enemy in place, exerting force along with the nearly broken tail-whip. The core-species was almost half-mounted on this fierce victor, limbs low. Sensing that he couldn't bite through that throat in one go, he immediately leaned back a bit, using his claws instead of his mouthparts and secondary teeth.
Katra’s knees sank deep into the ground as it struggled madly, stone chips flying everywhere. The opponent used his entire body as leverage, pressing his full weight onto the other beast’s body.
The red beast let out a high-pitched wail, seemingly wanting to surge up.
However, in the next second, the black core-species’ hands gripped its head firmly.
The head and the heart were the only two non-regenerative organs for the Zerg. Bright red scales tightly encased the chest area, but the remaining half of the neck appeared precarious.
When those hands twisted, the neck bone let out a crisp sound.
*Click.*
It was the sound of mountains beginning to collapse.
Small bone fragments let out gentle whispers, like tiny bubbles bursting, followed by a string of joyful chirps.
Because of the force, the core-species' wounds burst open several times.
At the final moment, he was pressed to the ground by Katra’s weight. The opponent twitched and struggled like mad, nearly tearing the tail-whip that bound its forelimbs, and the respiratory slits at the waist also tore into long wounds due to the violent pulling.
Broken bones protruded from beneath the black scales, but the core-species' hands were steady.
Overflowing blood dripped along the shattered mouthparts, and blood also flowed from the four pairs of crimson-gold eyes.
The black female was unmoved, ignoring all attacks.
With a strength beyond human imagination, he twisted that entire head off the wobbling neck.
Just as Perseus in the myths of Old Earth cut off the head of Medusa and held it high.
Along with the long spine pulled out with it, it waved in the air like a braid made of venomous snakes.
Katra’s claws had torn open the opponent’s chest at the last moment, making a grasping motion. Then, just before gouging out that beating heart, it stopped.
The former victor of the Great Sacrificial Arena, in a half-kneeling posture, had its arms slide down in a twitch.
The decapitated red giant was like a statue, blood gushing and spraying from its neck.
That blood splashed onto the black core-species, instantly dyeing his spread wings crimson. It cascaded down the two pairs of wings like a waterfall, merging with the blood-stained spiral patterns covering the entire Great Sacrificial Arena, extending all the way to the feet of all the massive head statues.
It was as if two new, massive wing membranes woven of blood were embracing this entire giant nest, lifting the grotesque, black-and-red intertwined monster in the middle.
The headless loser crashed to the ground.
The newly born victor stood upon the ruins, slowly straightening his body, holding that masterless head, changing from a crouch to a standing posture.
It was a very long process.
It was as slow as the first marine creature crawling toward land, or the first beast learning to walk upright, stumbling as it used its new legs.
From swaying to standing firm, he paused many times. The broken bones made a piercing creaking sound, and every sound echoed in the silent nest. Along with these sounds, the burst wounds shed new blood.
When he finally stood straight, his pitch-black whip-tail was driven into the ground like a sword that could not be broken, supporting the beast in its alienated state, draped in ominous crimson.
The head fell from his claws, rolling into the dust.
The core-species seemed to have turned into a quiet sculpture, maintaining that silent, unchallenged posture, merging with the entire Great Sacrificial Arena, motionless.
All the Zerg were waiting.
They were waiting for a signal. If the winner ascended the high platform, then he would become the irreplaceable new King of the Great Sacrificial Arena, the new King of Ja.
But if he fell before ascending the platform, then the swarming Zerg tide would tear away all disguises and devour his corpse in their most primitive, savage form.
The air was as stagnant as a boiling pot of oil; just one drop of water falling into it would trigger a violent explosion.
Not even the tiny sound of wings rubbing could be heard.
Selin, watching the battle, could hardly breathe. Before he understood the meaning of prayer, he had already begun to pray, begging that core-species to hurry, to go to the victor’s throne before falling.
The black female finally moved again.
But he did not move his feet; instead, he raised an arm toward the distant spectator stands.
It was a monster’s claw with mottled scales and many scars, palm facing upward, no longer showing any trace of humanity.
Before any of the Zerg could react, a white insect pushed aside his dark brown guardian, pushed aside the observing females crowded around him, and rushed down the high platform.
The male with damaged wings tripped when jumping into the bottom-most plaza, but he didn't care. He climbed up as if he couldn't feel pain and ran again toward the core-species who had reached out to him.
When he rushed to the other’s side and placed his hand on the open claw, before he could make a sound, the other exerted a sudden force and lifted the white male up entirely.
Two pairs of wings dyed crimson suddenly snapped open. Splashing blood mixed with scale powder scattered in fragmented reflections, accompanied by a terrifying hiss.
The pitch-black monster took flight, carrying the white male around the standing high platforms once before finally descending upon the highest point of the ruins, leaving a long trail behind him.
That was the guillotine that served as the end of the sacrifice, and also the throne of the newly born victor.
Blood dripped and flowed down the stone platform like some ominous offering.
The previously quiet nest exploded in that instant, the Swarm letting out a wave-like buzzing sound.
Gera held onto the core-species; he was no longer afraid.
On that night when he had felt uneasy, Sakti’s hand had rested on him, stroking his wings as if to comfort him, coaxing him slowly in a very gentle voice—
"After the battle is over, I will carry you for a lap around the Great Sacrificial Arena and place you on the throne of the high platform."
"And then I’ll tell them that you are my brightest little star."
The black female gently placed him on the high platform, then stepped back, standing to the side. When Gera looked up at him, two pairs of golden pupils locked onto him.
Every word his mate said would surely be fulfilled.
So Gera reached out once more. Amidst the clamor of countless females showing their submission, amidst the buzzing chants of everyone congratulating the new King of Angon in unison, he took this scarred victor into his embrace.
The tentacles of mental power reached out, like countless sticky white threads, coiling like spider silk around the other’s thorn-filled consciousness, smoothing over the invisible blood and tears, tightly protecting the most precious core in a dark, deep web that no other Zerg could touch.
The core-species let out a broken gasp, dyeing the pure white male red as well.
When Gera felt those mental fragments, he tasted bitterness, suppression, and anger. It was as if they had been settling for a hundred years, rolling and burning in a dark, narrow abyss beneath a calm and steady surface, like a flickering flame dipped in cold water that could never be extinguished.
And so Gera understood.
The mate he craved was like a black sheep that would never return, a waiting monster with no day of homecoming. Before understanding what humans called love and hope, he had first tasted bitterness and pain.
As their spirits intertwined, he felt sorrow because of the other’s sorrow.
The black female let out a long, clear hiss, sharp and strange as it pierced through the Great Sacrificial Arena, through the heavy night of Ja, as if wanting to take root on this alien planet.
Every Zerg bowed down because of this sound.
It was not any kind of emotional or common language, just a pure cry. It was as if a stray black sheep were calling to its flock that would never return, a cry piercing through the deep, cold night, through the sparsely vegetated wilderness, like a migratory bird that had crossed oceans and lands, flying a hundred thousand kilometers, calling for another migratory bird to return to the nest.
The pitch-black monster had broken bones all over its body. Some broken bones protruding from the body pricked the male, like a crown wrapped in thorns.
The long trail of blood dragged out a grotesque coronation carpet.
All the females fell into a frenzy. They chanted, they surged, showing their submission to the new victor of Angon. The background was filled with bizarre, buzzing noise, as if the entire nest had gone mad.
Gera spread his damaged, pale wings, as if to block out those sounds, gently coiling around this pitiful and ridiculous newly born king.
Then he lowered his head and pressed his cheek against the other’s.
In response, he let out a gentle and long-lasting low drone.
***
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Sacre-D: Reborn as the Swarm's Apex | Chapter 22 | Coronation in Blood | Novela.app | Novela.app
