Any act of glorifying war is undesirable.
This was the principle once upheld by the man who had been the human Sakti Saliban.
It did not mean he refused to publicize his side's achievements or bolster the morale of the Imperial Army—on the contrary, he was adept at using public opinion to tilt the scales of victory and the will of the people in his favor.
But he also preserved those wounds, ensuring that everyone who came after could clearly see the cities destroyed in war and the charred remains of planets like V217.
It was a caesarean wound named death, birthing the infant of violence, suckling on milk pressed from the lives of the expendable.
He wanted the people to see; he wanted those high above, who so easily pulled the triggers of star-swallowing weapons, to see; and he wanted to see it himself—this wound that would never heal.
And he had personally experienced this same scene countless times.
The core star system of the Broad-wing species was burning.
The orbital defense system had failed. Collapsing structures were peeling off in interconnected sheets, disintegrating into the cosmos, while others streaked through the atmosphere to crash onto the planet's surface.
Armed species and hybridized beasts belonging to the Broad-wing tribe ran rampant, letting out bursts of shrill, mournful cries.
Monsters clad in pitch-black scales descended to the ground. Their non-human appearance, combined with overwhelming weaponry, carved a crimson path through the chaos with sheer violence.
Human morality, occupying a superior standpoint, had no place in war. High-temperature flames licked over hard, sharp, jagged bones, tempering the blackness into something even deeper and more profound.
This was the fitting manifestation of a Core species tearing open its own ambition, treading upon conflict to rise, and no longer hiding its savage side.
The battlefield had always been his ladder to the heavens. He had ascended by trampling over the fragmented Federation, holding the head of a King Bug in his hand; violence was his most practiced method of response.
The tenderness shared with his partner seemed like a fragile reflection; what he displayed now was a different attitude entirely, one he had never shown before Galla.
If the white male bug saw him like this, he ought to be afraid—afraid of how Sakti calculated living beings as mere simulation results. Any bug that did not choose to turn and flee could only be said to lack sufficient regard for its own precious life.
Devouring-type weapons spread across the core area, sealing off an entire dense cluster of giant nests. The swarm scattered in flight amidst the flames.
Only by killing enough, and killing cleanly enough, could one accumulate the military merit necessary to deter all enemies.
Cruelty and coldness bred fear, and fear brought submission.
When one side submitted to the other, it meant the war was nearing its end.
Thus, those critics who disparaged his actions as "militaristic" were, in that regard, quite accurate in their assessment.
The Grey-wing Armed species followed behind him, becoming the only marchers with steady, compact steps amidst this chaotic and disordered scene.
All hybridized beasts were crushed entirely. No matter how one framed it from a high-minded perspective, this was a massacre.
Humans were fragile, the Grey-wings were trustworthy, and the reasons and positions were self-evident. A thousand words converged into the single option of "the enemy must disappear." Thus, the survival path of the hybridized beasts was snapped in two, and the newly sprouted evolutionary branch collapsed and withered.
Krisha had once detonated the entire old King Bug nest.
Now, it was the Core species' turn to do the same.
The main cannon of the Alpha Warship fired from deep space, striking the heart of the entire star system and dismantling all resistance with irresistible force.
The direct descendants of the Broad-wings were still resisting, and the hybridized beasts were crawling everywhere.
The former refused to surrender, while the latter had gone completely mad, biting every living thing they encountered in a frenzy, regardless of friend or foe.
This caused the already chaotic battlefield to erupt in even more scattered skirmishes.
Meanwhile, the Broad-wing Sub-King Bug, who should have been putting up a last-ditch struggle, had vanished completely.
It could only be said that Krisha's actions had provided a good inspiration for all bugs: if you do not want any enemy to escape, simply blow up the docking rails first and rest easy.
The rest was merely a matter of time. Searching for a single target on this locked-down nest planet was possible as long as one had enough patience to find what they wanted.
There were no elderly, weak, or disabled in the core star system; those stationed here were all elite troops directly subordinate to the Sub-King Bug.
The shackles were removed. There was never any question of treating enemies and comrades with equal favor; those who dared to face the battle head-on had to be prepared to be crushed head-on.
Even children's fairy tales would not write such ridiculous endings where both sides shook hands and made peace, their conflicts dissolving into nothing.
Before descending to the surface, the Core species had granted the opponent ten micro-cycles to surrender as a final ultimatum of benevolence.
He had given the Broad-wing species a chance to show submission without a scratch. If the opponent were wise enough and brave enough to resist, they only needed to defy the orders of the Sub-King Bug—who had disappeared into some unknown corner—and step aside from his path. He could have abandoned the pursuit.
But the Broad-wing species did not.
They released all the sub-adult hybridized beasts.
Unlike the Grey-wing tribe and the Ja, who generally had the habit of building semi-exposed structures on the surface, the Broad-wings were accustomed to inhabiting the deeper underground. In a very short time, dense swarms of bugs surged out of every street.
The bluish-grey bugs had no wings, but they moved with extreme speed and possessed thick hides and tough flesh. Even with Kleiman's attack power, it was difficult to snap their throats in one bite, and their numbers already accounted for nearly half of the swarm in the core star system.
Once these things grew into their complete forms, they would undoubtedly bring about a massive disaster.
Looking down at the synchronized images from above, the pitch-black female bug issued the command that would decide the outcome of this war.
"Clear them all out."
Just as his other self had once done, he pushed aside obstacles with overbearing unreasonableness.
In the quiet of the night, the white male bug would hold him and softly make excuses for his initial ferocity, telling him, "You have done enough, you are truly good."
Love makes one blind.
Many times, he was blinded by tender emotions, and the male bug never had the chance to listen to the deeper parts. They were both individuals full of flaws, learning for the first time to express love in the manner of partners—stumbling and ridiculous.
But in reality, the impurities that had mixed in diminished his hatred for the Zerg but never changed his nature.
Just as he could suppress emotional fluctuations with the fastest speed regardless of what happened, ambition and desire were written upon his soul—they were his second personal resume.
A new round of sweeping began.
The sky-blotting Grey-wings descended upon the core nest. As a warlike species that had once guarded the King Bug, their aggressiveness had always been stronger than that of their kin.
The Core species, who had not closed his eyes for three consecutive days, carried a high-lethality particle cannon.
It was this weapon that tore open the originally orderly defense grid on the surface, releasing the dark tide of bugs into a paradise of slaughter. Cold weapons and hot weapons exploded in the same space, and the Armed species, all in a state of deep alienation, bared their sharp fangs.
For a moment, Kleiman, who followed closely behind as the leader, thought the Core species standing in front was smiling, but he soon realized it was merely his own illusion.
It was very difficult for the Zerg to mimic human-like emotions in their deeply alienated forms.
The deep black female bug merely watched everything collapse with an expressionless face.
"Report," the other said.
Thus, the Grey-wings quickly reported the progress of the advance and the number of casualties. The destroyed nests were solidified into street-clearing progress, and the killed hybridized beasts were simplified into a string of inconsequential numbers.
The Core species before them was no longer the "bad thing" who had grinningly fed the Grey-wing members a mouthful of plasma during the simulation matches, nor was he the merciful one who had methodically commanded the wounded male bugs to be sent to treatment cabins, and he certainly had nothing to do with the gentle existence who held his partner and rocked him gently in their small nest at night.
The path they came by was paved with endless wreckage and molten rubble, and the splattered acidic blood corroded layer upon layer of spiral patterns.
Red flames burned in his golden pupils, blending with the chaotic, burning sky in the background.
Destroy that sentimental heart; no longer indulge in the seven emotions and six desires, struggling incessantly like a dying animal.
This was the heretic who had ascended by trampling over humans and Zerg alike, the true appearance of the beast with its muzzle removed.
He was conflict itself.
"Drag the Sub-King Bug out of the nest."
The pitch-black tail-whip brushed across the scalding ground. The Core species advanced steadily, issuing the next command.
The most frantic, radical methods contrasted sharply with his calmest tone. He raised his hand and delivered a finishing shot to a hybridized beast that lunged at him, walking straight past the fallen corpse without hesitation.
The white-haired, mottled Marshal Ye Ci had once sighed under the dim light, looking at his far-too-young student.
Valiant, full of confidence, and urgently treading a dangerous path, relying only on a teetering morality to restrain that uncontrolled desire for acquisition.
Success that came too early and the destruction of V217 had left this beast lacking a tethering rein.
"A ruler should strive to create a society where even the weak can survive. Whether a race has entered civilization should not be measured by the lives of those at the top, but by the living environment of the weakest at the bottom."
The old man looked at him, neither angry nor critical of his actions, but merely speaking of things slowly.
This was not a conversation between an Imperial Marshal and a Red Tai Sui synchronizer; it was more like an elder watching over a beloved junior.
"You are cynical, believing yourself to be different... but in truth, no one is really different. I will die, you will die, and hundreds and thousands of people in war will also die."
"If you do not listen, if you do not bow your body, the cries of those weak ones, no matter how loud, will have nothing to do with you."
"Listen to those voices," the other said. "Before you burn yourself and your enemies to ashes."
Afterward, he had put on the bit named restraint, keeping his private desires shelved at all times.
The man who felt that everything he had was gained through slaughter—and therefore his actions were correct enough, righteous enough, and natural enough—bowed his head and stepped onto the soil to listen carefully to every cry that represented suffering.
He preserved the wreckage of those wars, staring at them repeatedly every night, like a festering wound that throbbed and warned at all times.
"Find the Sub-King Bug."
Repeating the order once more, Sakti straightened his body.
"Clear out all hybridized beasts."
"Keep the surrendering Broad-wings under centralized supervision. Private killings are not permitted."
The Grey-wing Armed species subordinate to him scattered like hounds, swarming into those nests according to the engineering maps, each wanting to be the first to drag the prey before their master.
Hard and sharp scaled wings drooped. The bug in deep black armor sat down before a collapsed high platform, cradling the heavy weapon that had blasted through the planet's defense grid.
Just as he had once sat upon the throne of Angon, or at the round table of the Red Deer Palace.
He briefly closed his golden eyes, falling into a fleeting nap amidst his exhaustion.
The crackling sound of burning buildings enveloped the core star system like a tide.
Before the next dawn arrived, everything would return to silence once more.
***
