Chapter 106

Chapter 106

The galaxy stretches endlessly.

The death and disappearance of an Insect add nothing more than a speck of dust to the boundless universe.

But while the wind doesn’t care, the clouds don’t care, and the cosmos doesn’t care, there are always Insects who do.

Opening his eyes and taking in the scene before him, Philo remained silent for a long time.

After all, the last thing the male Insect had expected before losing consciousness was that he would ever open his eyes again.

"Still don’t believe you’re alive?"

A familiar voice came from the female Insect standing before him. Their eyes met, and those deep blue pupils, unseen for so long, were as gentle as ever—as if his presence here was the most natural thing in the world.

But how could this be natural?

"Gore… How are you…?"

How are you still alive?

How are you here?

"How…?"

And how am I not dead?

There were too many questions, and for a moment, the male Insect seemed unsure which to ask first.

Yet, though Philo’s doubts were tangled and unspoken, Gore’s answer was straightforward.

"I was severely injured by the Starbeast King and stranded in an uncharted sector. My flight unit and communicator were damaged, so I couldn’t return in time. When I finally made it back to Alliance-controlled space, I sensed your mental energy and followed it—only to witness you attempting to kill the Starbeast King by detonating your mental core."

Though Gore didn’t understand the source of the immense energy erupting from Philo, one thing was clear: Philo’s condition at that moment was far from normal.

Without hesitation, just before Philo’s core fully exploded, the female Insect struck him unconscious.

As for the Starbeast King…

Gore lowered his voice as he looked at Philo.

"The Starbeast King is dead."

"Though the abnormal energy within you didn’t fully erupt, it caused the Starbeast King to be consumed by its own energy wave. After I knocked you out, I put it down."

His claws unclenched marginally. Philo truly hadn’t expected the outcome of this battle to be like this—not only was the Starbeast King successfully slain, but he and the other Insectkin had survived, even Gore.

Such an ending, one so fortunate it was almost unbelievable, was something Philo had never anticipated.

But if that was the case, shouldn’t he now be on a warship returning to the capital world?

Lowering his gaze, the S-Class Male Insect listened quietly to the blue-haired female Insect’s explanation.

Though everything the female Insect said was positive developments, though all the Insects Philo had sought to protect were unharmed, his expression showed no trace of relief or triumph—only a familiar detachment and numbness.

Gore didn’t move or speak.

Having finished his explanation, the female Insect stood vigil, simply watching the male Insect quietly, observing the emotions on his face, the lowered eyes, and then…

"Philo, where do you want to go?"

Gore’s question landed like a shockwave. Raising his eyes, Philo frowned, struggling to comprehend the meaning behind them.

What did he mean, where did he want to go? Where could their society possibly permit his departure now?

"I told you before—once the high-level star beasts in the border sectors were cleared, if you still wanted to travel the universe, no matter where, I would take you there."

"Now the Starbeast King is dead, and few high-level star beasts remain. The remaining swarms pose no existential threat to their kind."

"So, Philo—"

Gore’s expression was serious as he looked at the silver-haired male Insect before him, not a hint of deception in his tone.

"Where do you want to go?"

The universe is so vast, Philo. Where do you want to go?

Clenching his fists, even though Philo knew Gore was never given to empty promises, he had to question if this was some elaborate ruse.

Even if the Starbeast King was dead, even if the star beasts were no longer a threat—what difference would it make? As long as he was still Philo Tulas, as long as he was still a male Insect, where could he possibly go?

"Gore, the Alliance won’t willingly release me."

Looking at the blue-haired female Insect, at this warrior who, no matter how well he concealed it, still carried the ozone-tinge of recent combat, Philo’s respiratory vents hitched.

The Insect race and the Alliance had never been something he could simply label as right or wrong, embraced or rejected.

Out of duty, as someone who had inherited this host body's identity, Philo couldn’t abandon his duty to the Insect race and the Alliance. But as Zhou Nuo, he could never fully reconcile with belonging to them.

Yet no matter how he viewed the Insect race, the Alliance would never casually let an S-Class Male Insect like him leave.

"You’re already dead."

As if the shocking statements he’d made today weren’t enough, the blue-haired female Insect quirked a brow slightly and stated matter-of-factly about a macabre reality.

"In the eyes of the Alliance, in the eyes of all Insects, you’re already dead."

"You once said you didn’t identify with the Insect race, that you wouldn’t like any Insect, nor would you ever produce offspring with one. If that’s the case, Philo, then leave."

The blue-haired female Insect appeared unconcerned about the consequences he would face if the Alliance ever learned of this decision. Looking at the silver-haired male Insect before him, he simply spoke in a low, steady voice.

"Philo."

"You’ve done enough for the Insect race. Go."

If you truly wish to leave, if you truly cannot accept the Insect race, if you truly long to find the belonging you seek—then, Philo, I’ll send you away.

His claws bit into his palms. As their eyes met, even his initial disorientation upon revival couldn’t compare to what he felt now.

Gore… Did he even realize what he was saying?

His gaze flickered slightly. The male Insect, having just awakened from the medpod, was still healing from catastrophic damage.

His face was alarmingly pale, his ears still rang intermittently with phantom battle echoes, his eyes were still bloodshot, and his body and psyche remained fractured.

Yet even so, even with his head still pounding relentlessly, Philo couldn’t help but doubt—was this some cruel illusion?

After all, why would any female Insectoid be willing to let him leave?

Even though Philo hadn't spent much time with these Insectoids, the Insectoids had long proven their obsession with male Insectoids and their desperate desire to possess them through countless extreme demonstrations.

He had long learned not to hope for understanding from this race. He had grown accustomed to accommodating their desires. But just as he was beginning to adjust to all this, now there was an Insectoid saying... to let him go?

Raising his head, he looked at the blue-haired female who remained composed even now, his voice rasped.

"Gore."

"Are you certain about this?"

Are you sure you won’t regret this decision? Are you truly willing to let me cut all ties with the Insectoids under the pretense of my 'death'? Are you certain... you really want me to leave?

In the past, when a female Insectoid said such words, Philo might have only been leaving the capital planet under the protection of countless female Insectoids for a journey with a guaranteed return.

But now, if Philo—officially 'dead'—were to leave, it might truly be his final departure.

Like mountain winds through valleys, rivers to the sea.

If the male Insectoid left now, it might mark the complete disappearance of the identity of 'Philo' and the true parting of the two Insectoids.

Looking at Gore, at the blue-haired female Insectoid whose expression remained unshaken, Philo asked directly, without concealment.

He didn’t deny his desire to leave. He was only asking the female Insectoid... Have you thought this through? Are you truly willing?

His pupils shifting slightly, the blue-haired female didn’t rush to answer this time. Instead, she quietly and intently studied Philo before her.

Her gaze was slow, meticulous, even borderline rude.

Yet even so, even though female Insectoids had never scrutinized a male so boldly before, Gore was in no hurry. Unwilling to rush, she silently traced every detail of Philo’s appearance with her eyes.

She committed his brow shape to memory, studied his eye color, and engraved the entirety of this Insectoid’s image deep into her heart.

Then, instead of answering whether she had truly thought it through, the female Insectoid stood up and handed Philo a somewhat familiar mechanical device.

"This is my upgraded locator."

"Compared to the previous model, this device has a wider detection range and greater sensitivity. Additionally, by integrating the ΛCDM cosmological model and the theory of spacetime curvature-induced light deflection, we’ve endowed it with a new special function."

Pausing, the female Insectoid lowered her voice as she looked at Philo.

"This device is equipped with a pulsar-based absolute positioning system, with its single fixed reference point being Alliance space. As long as you have this, Philo, even if you’re billions of light-years distant from Alliance territory, it will always guide you back."

Given the current technological level of the Insectoids, the maximum range of Philo’s ship wouldn’t exceed a billion light-years, so—

"Philo."

Her brows arching slightly, the blue-haired female Insectoid lifted her chin and gave a quiet chuckle.

"You’ll never be lost again."

Whether or not you consider the Insectoids your home, Philo, at the very least, the Alliance will always claim you, await you, and welcome you.

And so will I.

Where does life's cruel irony lie? Perhaps in those fleeting moments where you frantically grasp what slips away and are given what you never asked for.

Looking at the locator in the blue-haired female Insectoid’s hand, Philo’s arm shook violently.

Lowering his gaze, the male seemed like he might laugh, but... clenching his fists, tears fell unbidden from the corners of his eyes.

A way home...

That path—the Zhou Nuo of before might have long lost its true direction.

But even if the past is now truly the past, even if those familiar faces have long since vanished, I still want to return.

I want to hear the long-missed dialects of my homeland.

I want to see those I still call my own.

I want to search for traces of those who have passed or things long gone.

I want... to return to my homeland, where though all has changed, the familiar flag still flies.

I want to go back.

Philo decided to leave.

Without hesitation or delay.

The moment Gore revealed the truth, the moment she said she was willing to let him go, Philo made his choice without hesitation.

Plentiful energy stores, state-of-the-art systems, weapons boasting both firepower and protection... The resources Gore had hastily gathered for Philo from various Insectoid warships were remarkably comprehensive.

Thus, watching Philo prepare to close the shuttle door and depart, the blue-haired female’s eyes showed little concern—only the same calm and composure Philo had seen since waking.

This time, unless fate intervened, it might truly be their final meeting.

Facing each other across the slowly closing hatch, the disoriented Philo seemed to finally realize this.

But what did it matter now? The male Insectoid’s throat tightened as if he wanted to say something. Yet Gore merely waved her hand, offering no further words, smiling as the airlock between ships sealed, separated, then...

The female Insectoid’s waving arm gradually stilled, her gaze growing distant as the departing shuttle vanished from sight. Finally, her normally rigid posture faltered, and the blue-haired female Insectoid slumped to her knees, her breathing heavy.

The questions Philo had first asked Gore—the female’s replies had indeed been simple, and she hadn’t lied.

But though she hadn’t lied, it didn’t mean she hadn’t omitted certain details.

For instance, she hadn’t mentioned the intensity of Philo’s energy spikes at the time. She hadn’t said how much effort it had taken her to restrain the male Insectoid in that state. She hadn’t revealed that the energy wave meant to kill Philo in the Beast King’s death throes had been intercepted by her instead.

Gore hadn’t lied, but there were many, many things she hadn’t said.

Most importantly, she hadn’t told the recently awakened male Insectoid—whose nearly self-destructed mental core left him temporarily unable to use his psychic abilities—just how dire the state of his mental domain truly was.

Propping her forehead with an arm, the female Insectoid could no longer suppress the furrow in her brow.

Removing the disguise device hidden in her hair, her once-clear eyes instantly turned blood-red, while the deep, bone-deep lacerations from the energy wave injuries across her body became horrifyingly visible.

Grabbing a nearby micro-pain suppressor, the blue-haired female Insectoid—who had always excelled at enduring—rarely resorted to pain relief. But now, even such measures seemed barely effective.

Lowering her hand, the female Insectoid—who had only interrupted her treatment upon sensing Philo’s imminent awakening—leaned against the wall, as if trying to stand and make her way to the adjacent medical pod.

But...

Her arm slipped. Gore seemed to lack even the strength to rise again. Yet perhaps what truly made it difficult, what sapped her will to stand, wasn’t her near-fatal injuries or her teetering mental domain—but the overwhelming emptiness within the shuttle.

Empty. An emptiness like never before.

Clutching the fabric over his chest, the female's heart felt like a solitary city in a wasteland.

That city once held many things—his ideals, his goals, the life he cherished, the devotion he held sacred.

In the past, even when walking alone, the city in his heart was never truly desolate.

But why was it different this time...

It was just that Philo had left his city. So why did this city in his heart now feel so empty, so barren?

The female's turbulent emotions stirred his already chaotic psychic domain, sharp and erratic psychic waves violently lashing at his mind. Overwhelmed by the pain, Gore let his head drop, unable to bear it any longer.

Like a king who'd exiled his own crown jewel—no matter how well he had pretended before—he could no longer restrain himself from bowing his proud head at this moment.

Closing his eyes, the blue-haired female let out a low chuckle, no longer resisting as he simply collapsed onto the floor.

At least Philo wasn't here to see this.

If he were still here now, Gore truly couldn’t guarantee whether he would still have the heart to let him leave.

Staring at the ceiling, his vision growing increasingly blurred, it seemed only now did the female dare to indulge in those selfish fantasies. But… were they truly just fantasies?

*Clunk.*

The sound of the spacecraft docking hatch opening echoed.

In this remote corner of the universe, an uncharted sector where no other spacecraft should have passed—suddenly, a familiar vessel approached the ship that seemed destined to remain here forever.

Motionless, his consciousness fading, the female paid no attention to what sounded like real hatch opening or the footsteps approaching him.

Not because he couldn’t hear them, but because his ears, his mind, were consumed by these waking dreams.

He imagined the one he'd just let go appearing before him once more.

He imagined that one, who had left without looking back, turning to glance at him again.

He imagined that one suddenly returning, saying to him—

"Gore."

"Want to come with me?"

He didn’t move. The first time he heard those words, the female remained still.

But as the male pressed a med-patch against his body, the cold, tangible sensation jolted him. His eyes flew open, meeting a pair of pupils he had just been fantasizing about in his mind.

Those pupils were familiar, calm, beautiful—that perfect twilight purple.

This was… this was…

"Since you said the star beasts no longer pose a threat to the insect race, then an S-Class female like you must no longer be indispensable to the Alliance. Besides, your psychic shields must be shot right now. Given your reputation in the capital star, aside from an S-Class male like me, who else would give you proper Psychic Soothing?"

As always, the male proved he couldn’t be fooled that easily.

Indeed, Philo, who had left without looking back, had truly considered making a clean break. But sitting alone in the cockpit, gazing into the endless black ahead, something finally clicked in his mind.

Gore was being too calm.

After such a battle, even if everything had gone as smoothly as he claimed, his condition was still suspiciously normal.

A flawless ending was either dumb luck or one hell of a lie.

And Philo had stopped trusting luck altogether.

So he returned—and the outcome was no surprise.

Gazing at Gore, stripped of all pretense, his body covered in wounds down to the carapace as if shattered on the ground, Philo stepped closer to him.

How long did they live? Not very long, in truth. Given their natural lifespan and the speed of their spacecraft, they wouldn’t even be able to traverse the known universe.

Yet even so, while the length of life might be finite, suffering could make it feel like eternity.

Philo was no longer the soft touch he once was. But now, looking at this female who, even in this state, had willingly swallowed every ounce of pain just to send him away—

Philo felt that old tenderness return.

—Gore, I still can’t give you a promise.

—Even at the end of my life, I might never be able to return your feelings.

—But, Gore.

—One insect going it alone may be too bleak, but a journey alone is too lonely. If you truly wish to, if you truly want to—perhaps we can keep moving together for a while longer.

—Along the way, there may be new worlds, and we may find something unexpected.

—Even if, in the end, we end up right where we started… at least…

Their hands intertwined—this time, unlike before, the female’s arm shook visibly, while the male’s palm remained steady.

Eyes meeting, Philo curved his lips slightly, his gaze alight with that old daring.

At least, we tried.

The toughest call isn't the road ahead.

Similarly, the most agonizing part of any emotion is perhaps taking that first step.

Gore had been given an opportunity to begin. But as for how it would end, perhaps only the vast universe could have the last word.

No matter what, the stars stretch far, Zhou Nuo—but keep looking for the way back home.

—End Transmission

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