One by one, the planets near the core habitat of the Broad-wing species were being transformed into seas of blood.
After a long hiatus, the strategy of "keeping the whole nest together"—ensuring not a single member of a family was left behind in death—was once again put into play. Not a single mutated insect was spared.
The Broad-wings had attempted to take a shortcut to power, surreptitiously procuring samples of exotic beasts to gorge upon in an effort to develop a new "product." As it turned out, before this new product could even hit the market, Sarcadi had wiped out their entire base.
By now, he had far exceeded the return date he had originally promised, but retreat was out of the question. As long as his energy reserves weren't depleted, he intended to flatten everything in his path.
The standoff between humans and the Zerg had lasted so long, and their humanoid forms had entered such a stable period, that most people had forgotten their neighbors were not picky eaters. They dared to eat anything, and they could eat anything; the circle of bizarre ancestral heads surrounding the Great Sacrificial Grounds of Angon was more than enough proof of that.
Because many normal females and males still lived on each planet, they couldn't simply glass these habitats from space. It was like a bag of green beans mixed with a large quantity of red beans; to separate them, one had to pick them out by hand.
Sarcadi, a Core-seed stabilized at the peak of his prime, had remained in a state of deep alienation for nearly half a small cycle. His pitch-black wings were hard and powerful, and his scaled tail coiled behind him. Whenever he tore into those deformed things fused with exotic beast genes during ground combat, it was hard to say which side looked more like an utter monster.
The Zerg's juvenile period usually lasted less than ten large cycles, and a Broodmother required only three to five large cycles to produce a massive quantity of mature eggs. Once they left infancy and entered sub-adulthood, it meant they possessed basic hunting and reproductive capabilities. Compared to humans, who were still considered minors at seventeen, these creatures were far too "vibrant."
However, the new breed sired by the exotic beast genes clearly felt that the current waiting period was insufficient to demonstrate their genetic superiority. They had slashed the already tight growth cycle by more than half.
Every breeding base—Sarcadi truly couldn't think of a better name to describe those egg-rearing nests—contained data that proved this. The Broad-wings had been running these operations for no more than two large cycles, yet by the time Kleiman’s troops swept the battlefield, highly aggressive high-order exotic hybrids were already crawling everywhere, gnawing on the Grey-wings.
Most of these new creatures were a bluish-grey color, hard and glossy, with sharp spines extending from the spine to the tail. Their skin was excellent at insulating heat. They lacked humanoid forms, fitting the definition of "beast" much more closely, and their behavior was remarkably cunning.
If ordinary Zerg possessed distinct racial characteristics—such as two pairs of eyes in their alienated forms, one or two pairs of wings, and a scaled tail trailing behind, which barely hinted at the species' aptitude for flight and migration—then the things created by the Broad-wings had opened an entirely new track.
The products of exotic beast hybridization no longer possessed insect wings, but their climbing ability and movement speed had increased dramatically. They were like reptiles scurrying through underground caverns. Because of their low body temperature and the heat-insulating effect of their skin, they were a disastrous entity for ordinary Zerg who relied on scent glands, making them incredibly difficult to capture.
Kleiman, returning from his shift at the habitat, spent every day hissing curses in emotional language. One couldn't really blame him.
As the combat zone pushed inward, they had swept the first planet crawling with fully-formed exotic hybrids. A hairless, bluish-grey specimen of the new breed had dropped directly from the ceiling of a cave and landed on him. The sensation was akin to a cold gecko suddenly falling onto one's back while taking an unguarded shower.
The tail-swiping fellow had suffered a total breakdown on the spot. The deep-grey female had instantly entered an alienated state and gone on a killing spree. Before the attacker could bite through his neck, his scales had rapidly protected his vitals, and he had proceeded to tear the crawlers to shreds. Since then, every time they entered a new map, he prioritized checking the space above his head.
The habits of the new breed were indeed quite different; they liked to huddle in the nooks and crannies of crevices, waiting for an opportunity to launch a sudden ambush. To counter this, Sarcadi had issued a standing order: once ground operations commenced, all members had to maintain their alienated state.
A female's head and heart were non-regenerative organs. If an ambush succeeded, it meant a reduction in the Grey-wing population.
Perhaps fate always enjoyed setting up humorous plots comparable to cold jokes. Had the Broad-wings been given a few more large cycles to let this new breed fully mature and stabilize at the peak of their prime, the Grey-wings, as their neighbors, would have been in genuine trouble.
As it happened, their Sub-King was too greedy. Instead of waiting for these things to be fully reared, he thought to use Krisha’s invitation as an opportunity to fleece some wool. This caused Kleiman, who had previously been at peace with them, to switch directly into liquidation mode. Consequently, no wool was fleeced, and the breeding bases were nearly all destroyed.
The arrogance of the direct descendants toward the low-and-middle-order species was on full display. Every breeding nest was piled high with failures and consumables, their corpses serving as food for the squalling, crawling hybrids.
Initially, the leader of the armed forces showed no extra emotion when counting the surviving low-and-middle-order females and males. However, as the number of sheltered subjects grew, this indifferent direct descendant looked as if he were about to crack.
"Perhaps this is a superior direction for evolution," the black monster said, maintaining his alienated form. His tone was half-smiling, but his split mouth and dense secondary teeth left him with no human features, producing a slight hissing sound as he spoke. "I noticed it’s difficult for you to bite through their necks in one go, and what we’ve seen are only sub-adults."
"If I hadn't exterminated them all, the Grey-wing tribe might have been able to get a piece of the pie."
"No need." Kleiman was very blunt. The arrogance born of the core tribe added a layer of disdain to his bluntness. He also maintained a state of deep alienation, perched beside the black female, maintaining a submissive posture half a step behind. "These things are disgusting."
Very interesting. The expression "disgusting" was quite humanized.
During Sarcadi’s own reign, this neighbor had displayed an extremely pure side—purity not in the sense of good or bad, but as a stable state. Unlike their genes, which were constantly mutating and evolving, the Zerg mindset was consistent. All actions revolved around a common goal: to be unburdened by external factors, to obey the King, to return to the swarm, to continue the race, and to select stronger offspring.
But now, impurities had seeped in. Instead of mindlessly following instinct and nature, a trivial matter like "disgust" had actually become one of the criteria for judgment. Individual differences, personal preferences, and independent thought had appeared in Kleiman, a typical direct descendant.
They walked through a floor of blood and filth. The heads and hearts of all the exotic beast hybrids had been harvested, making the breeding nest look quite sanity-eroding. Egg sacs and viscous tissues on the walls were coiled into spiral patterns, densely packed; every step crushed empty egg casings.
"You must have seen many scenes more disgusting than this."
With every breath, the air rushing into the respiratory slits carried the scent of blood. During this time, the Core-seed had almost entirely discarded all his virtues as a human, moving leisurely with his body covered in scales. His tail, bristling with spines, swayed slightly behind him, on guard against any ambush that might emerge from a corner.
"...I don't like it," Kleiman said slowly. He was also crouched low on all fours, his four deep-grey eyes rotating, showing no human-like characteristics. "Many males and females died just to raise these things... If I had a male, I wouldn't want him to hatch a monster that would tear him apart."
During this period, Broad-wings who had expressed their willingness to surrender were being transported away for containment. One male had died during transit, failing to make it to the medical pod. The spinal spines of the exotic beast hybrids could easily snag and tear the body of the progenitor.
That was the case for that unlucky insect; the first egg had become stuck in the birth canal, and the subsequent eggs entered the activation phase but could not be smoothly expelled. All the Grey-wings had then witnessed the scene of a nest of bluish-grey mutated things gnawing through the progenitor's body and crawling out like a spray of spiders.
It seemed the law of conservation of fate always existed. Once, humans had watched with their own eyes as their kin became seedbeds and cheap incubators; now, it was the Zerg themselves who were experiencing this.
The beast-like Broad-wings remained unmoved, firmly believing this was a part of evolution, viewing low-order insects as simple and necessary consumables. But for the Grey-wing tribe following Sarcadi—who had a relatively higher tolerance for males and young—such things had become unbearable.
Beasts who had worn human skin for too long had lost track of their own identity, beginning to feel as though they too had become members possessed of mercy and humanity. Just like the silver-grey high-order Zerg; no matter how much he tried to convince himself, he couldn't completely let the youth he had raised leave without a word.
So, upon receiving the news, he had immediately turned back, wrapping his disguise tight and reining in his bloody nature. Monsters born from the accumulation of death had grown to want to understand love, to obtain love.
A truly pathetic proposition; a truly pathetic race.
Sarcadi, who had reached a point where he was neither a successful human nor a particularly successful Zerg, felt a flicker of shared commiseration. The instinct for self-destruction was written into the genes of every living creature, and the side that first developed thought was often the first to step toward death. Excessive rates of evolution and reproduction meant instability for a species, while thought and mercy triggered upheaval—and currently, the entire Grey-wing tribe was in such a state.
Thus, he couldn't help but playfully flick Kleiman with his tail. "Have you finally overcome your male-phobia and started fantasizing about a future family life?"
A head full of question marks slowly emerged from the other. "Is there something wrong with you??"
The deep-grey female was clearly still a victim of male-phobia. That powerful scaled tail made a snapping sound behind the leader of the armed forces. "I wasn't fantasizing about that kind of thing!"
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 阔翅种 | Broad-wing species | A faction of Zerg characterized by wide wings. |
| 异兽杂交种 | Exotic beast hybrid | A new, monstrous breed created by crossing Zerg with "exotic beasts." |
| 核心种 | Core-seed | The highest tier of Zerg, to which Sarcadi belongs. |
| 灰翅直系 | Grey-wing direct descendant | High-ranking members of the Grey-wing tribe. |
| 苗床 | Seedbed / Incubator | A term used to describe those used as living vessels for breeding. |
| 亚王虫 | Sub-King | A high-ranking Zerg just below the level of a King. |
| 呼吸缝 | Respiratory slits | Biological features of the Zerg in their alienated forms. |
| 掉san | Sanity-eroding / Sanity-draining | Derived from "Sanity points" in Lovecraftian gaming; refers to something horrifying. |
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