Young people these days were truly wild.
This was the first thought that popped into Sarkadi’s mind when he saw Arthur again.
Good grief, each generation was more formidable than the last.
When he was eighteen, all he thought about was how to lop off insect heads; now, an eighteen-year-old kid was actually thinking about how to date one.
And his target was a high-tier Core Gene Species.
Sarkadi could almost hear a white-haired etiquette officer standing behind him, saying expressionlessly, "Your Majesty, times have changed."
He did indeed hope for a modicum of stability in the peace between humans and the Zerg—after all, the cost of war was too high—but certainly not in this form. This was simply too far ahead of its time.
For a moment, Sarkadi felt like a dusty old fossil who couldn't grasp the trends of modern youth.
He had assumed Arthur viewed Clark with the affection of an adopted father, and he had even internally applauded this heartwarming, cross-species familial bond, lamenting that true sentiment still existed in the world. Instead, the youth had smashed through every hurdle, sprinted straight off the track of social norms, and sat himself down right in the judges' seats.
He was essentially rewriting the rules of the game. In this niche field of unconventionality, no one could beat this top-seeded player.
Facing the Core Species’ incredibly bizarre, scrutinizing gaze, Arthur remained composed and calm.
Every movement of his exuded a good upbringing. He greeted Sarkadi, Gera, and the newly met En and Enna with effortless poise.
The two younglings approached warily and curiously, sniffing him and letting out hissing sounds at the unfamiliar human scent.
"Not for eating," Gera warned sternly, pulling the two sub-adults back.
He had accidentally let the secret slip in his drowsy state last night, making his morning awakening rather awkward.
The youth, however, didn't seem to mind. His tone was as natural as if he were saying, *I’ll have white bread with raspberry jam today.*
"Are we departing now?" Arthur asked. "Or is there more preparation to be done?"
Sarkadi felt a rare bout of dizziness, but he maintained his stoic persona with an expressionless face.
"We depart," he said.
Arthur’s blue eyes crinkled; he was clearly in a good mood because they were finally setting off.
"Understood."
The youth moved quickly. Operating a Zerg starship seemed as natural to him as breathing, and he proactively took over some of the vessel's controls. Their crew was small this time; without the assistance of the Armed Species and with En and Enna still lacking relevant experience, the remaining three had to shoulder all the work.
Gera, however, looked quite dejected.
Upon waking, he realized he had caused a major blunder and was now consumed by guilt and gloom.
Once the warship had successfully cleared the port and entered a stable cruising phase, he quietly pulled the human youth aside to whisper an apology.
The youth simply shook his head, looking at the white male insect with a gentle gaze. "You needn't blame yourself. I have always let nature take its course with this matter. If anything, your partner is quite dense in this regard; I’m actually surprised he only just found out."
Sarkadi, sitting far off in the captain’s chair and perfectly capable of hearing this conversation—and the evaluation of him being "quite dense"—remained silent. "……"
"You realize that you and he are... different species, right?" He finally couldn't resist turning around to look at the two who were huddled together again.
If this were a few years ago, he likely would have given the youth a beating to clear his head. But now that he had a male partner himself and had become a member of the "hypocrite" club who enjoyed what he once disdained, fate felt far too fickle. It had stripped him of his moral high ground to preach.
However, his straight-laced brain truly couldn't fathom what the boy was thinking. Gera was at least cute—whether it was his cat-like personality, his serious expression while working, his little wings fluttering when anxious, or his happily swaying tail-hook... everything about him was adorable.
But Clark... Clark looked like he’d be a literal handful—or rather, a mouthful of needles. He looked like the type of ruthless character who could twist a head off with his bare hands.
*Friend, you really aren't afraid of death.*
The polite smile on the youth's face made Sarkadi realize that the fellow before him was much more difficult to deal with than he appeared.
Then again, during their first meeting, the human child had already witnessed the high-tier species in his element as the slaughterer of the Northern Battlefield.
Clearly, that silver-gray winged female far across the stars hadn't yet realized that the insect under his command... no, the *human* under his command, was planning to revolt and flip the entire world upside down.
"Please do not worry, I understand all of this perfectly. Whatever the outcome, I will accept it gladly," Simmons said with a faint smile. Those blue eyes, capable of seeing through human hearts, did not flinch. "If he loathes all of this from the bottom of his heart, I will maintain my distance and let everything return to how it was at the start—I will never allow myself to become a blade pointed at him, or a source of harm."
"But if there is even a shred of possibility, I will try to fight for it."
"Do you know the first trick he taught me when he was teaching me to hunt? Never take your eyes off the target."
The youth’s smile became a bit bashful. "Chasing a partner is actually very similar to a tug-of-war pursuit. The one who hesitates is often the one who gets pushed along. You see, didn't you also surrender before your partner?"
It was over.
The boy was truly serious. He had the devotion, he had the plan, and he even wore a smile while considering the future process of closing the net.
A human child raised by the Zerg was truly terrifying.
"I might regret bringing you from Camlann three times a day."
Sarkadi closed his eyes. He felt his head buzzing frantically, as noisy as the Great Sacrificial Grounds of Angon during a blood-match.
Not only had he brought the boy onto the ship, but he was also taking him to the Gray-wing star sector. His original plan was to fish in troubled waters, using the high-tier species' weakness to tether him more securely—upgrading their "plastic" friendship to a "battle-hardened" one—while finding a suitable place for Arthur to shine in his future plans.
What he wanted was far from a replaceable partnership; he wanted accomplices bound together in the same boat, for better or worse.
Given the way the boy and Clark interacted, the high-tier species would undoubtedly be furious upon seeing this "local souvenir."
But that fury would clearly be spared from Arthur, which meant it could only be directed at Sarkadi.
This was still within his expectations; he could handle it and was confident he could persuade the other.
Who could have guessed that the situation would then bolt like a runaway horse, heading in a bizarre direction from which there was no turning back?
—This audacious "souvenir" actually wanted to perform a courtship dance around that silver-gray female!
He could already imagine the scene of his "plastic" boss twisting his head clean off.
It was a classic case of shooting oneself in the foot.
He should have just left the boy in Camlann to grow mushrooms.
To change his mood, Sarkadi opened a star chart and began to look, burying himself among the floating little planets to clear his mind.
He needed to focus on work to wake himself up; he didn't want to think about that messy, complicated cross-species romance for the time being.
Something unexpected had happened when Gera linked to the Great Information Nest, and Sarkadi was quite concerned about the description. Judging by the male's attitude, he was harboring feelings of dread and terror; Sarkadi had to find a way to uncover the reason.
Moreover, besides the accident, Gera had unearthed a lot of useful information, and this part needed to be organized as soon as possible.
The Gray-wing Species' internal troubles were escalating, and the other Core Gene groups had mostly figured out the cause and effect of the whole affair.
This meant that later on, they would not only have to face the threat from Krisha but also a group of neighbors coming to take advantage of the situation.
There was never any spirit of friendly mutual aid among the Zerg; it was always a matter of kicking someone while they were down.
In the absence of a common external threat, they could perform rounds of internal strife. Once, the King Insect served as the absolute adhesive that could regulate such conflicts, but now that the Broodmother had passed and a new coexistence mechanism had not yet been fully established, the buffer zone had been torn to shreds.
The Gray-wing Species had demarcated their new habitat starting from the Old King's Nest in the Third Quadrant, which was actually a very delicate location.
The Great Information Nest was centered around the Old King's Nest. The King Insect had used this terminal, which linked all species, as a mental power amplifier and a stepping stone to open pathways. Currently, Krisha was clinging to the territory and refusing to let go, forcing Clark to reside on a planet slightly further away.
Bordering the Gray-wings were the Mandible Species, the Limb Species, and the Broad-wing Species. Individually, the combat power of these neighbors was mediocre—otherwise, small groups of their defeated members wouldn't be sold to Ja every other day—but if these insects were to swarm together, they would still be quite troublesome to handle.
One reason humans had originally felt unnerved by the insects was their sheer numbers and the fact that their entire population was militarized.
Any low-level female snatched at random could take down several adult human males.
With the ceasefire between the two sides, it had been a long time since he had seen the sight of an insect tide in motion.
And when the final fires of war were lit, the predatory onlookers would never let such a golden opportunity pass.
Everyone wanted the core management rights of the Great Information Nest. The Gray-wings had occupied that "prime real estate" for a long time; any insect would turn green with envy looking at it.
But Clark was too good at fighting. His iron-blooded record of wiping out the Hard-wing Species was far too intimidating. If they could seize the Great Information Nest while simultaneously taking out the silver-gray high-tier species, one could hardly imagine how cheerful those neighbors who lived on scraps would become.
Sarkadi ran through his plans in his mind while flicking the gurgling, floating little planets with his hand.
This was actually completely different from his initial conception—when they first met, he hadn't had much of a favorable impression of the silver-gray high-tier species, thinking only of how to topple this "plastic" boss as soon as possible.
But by now, even with his harsh standards, he had to admit that Clark had been included in his circle of companions.
Having entered work mode and calmed his emotions, the Core Species was just about to chat with Gera—he needed the male to organize all the intelligence from the last connection to the Great Information Nest—when a brand-new communication patched in without so much as a greeting.
There was only one insect who would perform such a crude operation without reading the room.
Sure enough, in the next second, Kleiman’s figure appeared on the bridge.
"I heard you've already set sail," the Armed Species said with a cold face. If it weren't for his tail swaying slightly behind him, it would be hard to detect any happiness from this tall, powerful, and expressionless insect. "I hope to see you soon."
However, the moment Sarkadi saw him, he suddenly remembered that "Tail-Wagging Bro" also considered Clark to be something of a kinsman. When they had chatted on the ship, the Armed Species leader had fully displayed his trust and esteem for that high-tier species.
It was over.
Because of his actions, the other party might end up with a human stepfather.
The gaze with which he watched Kleiman became tinged with a hint of sorrow. This was the retribution for being greedy; the number of people who wanted to bash his head in had likely increased by one.
Perhaps because the black Core Species’ reaction—silently looking here and there with a shifty gaze—was too subtle, it left Kleiman bewildered.
The Armed Species kept a cold face, but his eyes betrayed an incomprehensible confusion.
"Are your eyes uncomfortable?" Tail-Wagging Bro asked bluntly.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 鳌种 | Mandible Species | One of the neighboring Zerg species. |
| 足肢种 | Limb Species | One of the neighboring Zerg species. |
| 阔翅种 | Broad-wing Species | One of the neighboring Zerg species. |
| 第三象限 | Third Quadrant | A spatial region in the Zerg territory. |
| 王巢 | King's Nest | The former residence/hub of the King Insect. |
| 甩尾巴哥 | Tail-Wagging Bro | Sarkadi's internal nickname for Kleiman. |
