Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Seraphiel, his hands trembling, sent a communication to Amon, his voice kept low but his words came out in a rush: "Are you insane? What are you doing?"

A lazy, dismissive snicker crackled through the line.

"Send me the coordinates. I'll deal with the trouble in front of you first." Amon paused. "That tin can's been hiding Mother for this long. You don't want another lord muscling in for a cut, do you?"

"You're the one who called Zane!"

Amon rolled his eyes, couldn't be bothered with that naive accusation. He tilted the camera, aiming it at Yor asleep behind him—specifically at that gut of his, huge enough to be scary.

"Let the tin can come handle this egg situation," Amon said in a smug voice. "After that... Mother will be ours."

Pissed as Seraphiel was, he knew the Broodmother mattered more right now. He didn't argue further, just shared the feed with Leonius.

One look was all it took. Leonius's pupils slammed shut. The next second, several pitch-black insect limbs shot out from his waist and shoulder blades with a sharp *shink*, their razor tips glinting cold in the starlight.

He didn't even bother with his ship. He turned and shot toward the direction of Vorna Star, moving so fast he was just a blur, his bug limbs carving razor-sharp lines behind him.

What the hell's going on?

Zane was about to chase after him when a figure dropped in front of him—Amon, who had just received the coordinates and arrived after chain-jumping through space.

He touched down in front of Zane all casual, like he hadn't just been hauling ass to get here, and just shoved a round, squirming Glur beast into Zane's arms: "Here. Your Broodmother."

Zane looked down at the juvenile beast staring up at him with wet, wide eyes, and a vein throbbed at his temple: "???"

Amon dusted his hands off lazily, like it was the most normal thing in the world: "That Broodmother you kept in the domain clan—nobody gave a damn, and it was on its last legs. So I pulled out its spirit core, put it into this Glur beast, and dumped it on a planet crawling with war bugs."

He spread his hands. "And guess what? It actually worked! The war bugs' mental seas are way cleaner now. Pretty impressive, right?"

Then why the hell had he sent that cryptic message earlier?! And he'd actually fallen for it!!

"You played me?" Zane's voice came out through gritted teeth.

"Watch your mouth!" Amon tilted his head, with zero shame. "Wasn't I helping you with your little experiment? And... heh, I just wanted to see you guys. Not just you—Seraphiel and Leonius too, you know."

He paused, as if remembering something particularly amusing, laughing so hard his clothes shook. "Those two took forever to sweet-talk into coming. But you? One little message and you came running. Have you only known me for a day?"

Zane was shaking with fury, but Amon pointed at the Glur beast in his arms: "My methods were rough, so this Glur beast is just about dead. You'd better haul ass back and try to save it."

Data scrolled frantically across Zane's HUD—that unique data signature was definitely there, but fading fast.

He gritted his teeth, tucked the Glur beast against his chest, and stormed off without a word.

If he ever fell for that again, he might as well be raised by the guard clan!

The lords scattered fast. The starfield, tense just moments ago, went quiet again, leaving only Amon and Seraphiel standing in place.

Seraphiel looked at Amon. Other bugs couldn't see it, but in his "sight," Amon's form was way more transparent than before, his edges like ink in water, slowly bleeding out.

His expression was complicated: "You... why did you even bother..."

Amon wasn't having any of that pity. "Isn't this what you wanted in the first place? You split off a piece of me exactly for this, didn't you?"

Every bug knew domain bugs—especially the Domain Insect Lord—were anchors that kept the Broodmother from falling apart. But the negative emotions accumulated by generation after generation of Broodmothers kept captive for breeding formed a terrifying concept, growing heavier with each succession of lords.

Their instinctive attachment to the Broodmother had kept them going, but after she disappeared, the pent-up darkness could no longer be digested...

Seraphiel, in his agony nearly destroying himself, chose to save himself. He split off a bug that carried his pain, his selfish desires, his cravings... every emotion he could never attain.

That bug named himself Amon.

Seraphiel never dared to imagine how Amon endured day after day of hopeless existence in that suffering. Amon seemed to know why he was born, and almost never shared sensations with him.

Until just now... that was probably the only joyful experience Amon had had since his birth.

He had transmitted that joy and satisfaction to Seraphiel...

Seraphiel closed his eyes in pain: "You are my negative emotions. The happier I am, the faster you dissipate."

But Amon just sneered: "Is my existence something good, anyway?" He turned around, as if even his last shred of patience was spent. "Save it. What can a saint like you actually do for the domain bugs? Go back—the tin can needs your help."

===========

Leonius had already reached the ship.

The lord, arriving wreathed in fury, landed like a meteor from the sky, slamming into the ship's hatch with a deafening crash... and a suffocating wave of pressure.

Herman and Taste fell to their knees almost simultaneously, their kneecaps striking the metal floor with heavy thuds. Even Lima, who had rushed over upon hearing the commotion, lay prostrate at a distance, unable to move.

Taste struggled to raise his head: "You... shouldn't have le... le..."

Leonius had no time for his stammering. He raised his hand, his fingertips catching the edge of the hatch. The ship's door, forged from hard obsidian-metal, tore apart under his grip like fragile paper, letting out a screech of tortured metal.

A torrent of pheromones surged through the torn gap, so thick they nearly condensed into solid form.

Taste and Herman were horrified. They had been standing right outside the door the entire time, never moving an inch.

Taste, who knew Leonius and Seraphiel had been monitoring this place, could hardly believe it: "What's going on... who could..."

Who could possibly have come to violate Yor right under the noses of two lords?

Leonius was already inside the cabin. One glance found Yor lying in the sleep pod.

His body had been drained too severely—even such a commotion hadn't woken him. Leonius leaned in and confirmed: Yor had indeed passed out, his face pale, fine cold sweat beading at his temples, his lower abdomen swollen high, straining the fabric taut.

Leonius reached out, lifted the covering for a look, then quickly pulled it back. He wrapped Yor snugly in a thermal blanket while simultaneously linking his mental power to Dexter.

"Prepare the Broodmother's nest, and a large supply of nutrient fluid." This was only to replenish Yor's own body's energy. As for what was needed for the birth...

"Order the bugs on the ship to line up by rank, highest to lowest. Prepare to irrigate the Broodmother."

Through the mental link, Dexter saw Yor's miserable state—the swollen belly, the skin split open in bloody cracks from growing too fast...

He didn't bother asking what had happened. Wiping away tears that had unknowingly streamed down his chin, he turned to carry out the lord's orders.

Taste grimaced as he forced himself upright, following behind Leonius toward the starship.

The war bugs' execution was beyond question. The lowest deck of the starship was converted into a suitable nest for the Broodmother at record speed.

The horrors of the last centaur clan Broodmother irrigation were still fresh in many war bugs' memories, but with the lord's command, the war bugs awaiting their irrigation duty had already formed into formation, waiting at the nest's entrance.

Their eyes held tension, fear, but mostly numbness. Yet when Leonius emerged carrying Yor, the strained calm shattered instantly.

Broodmother's scent!!

Sweet, fertility-signaling Broodmother pheromones surged like a tide, enveloping every war bug's senses.

The war bugs nearest the entrance arched their backs violently. Their bodies began to transform uncontrollably—elytra bursting from shoulder blades, insect limbs extending along their flanks, compound eyes replacing their original pupils.

The commotion spread like a plague, and the dozens of war bugs in the front ranks nearly all transformed into their original forms at once, crouching low, muffled, strangled gasps spilling from their throats.

If not for the lord's authority pressing down on them like a weight, they would have swarmed forward long ago.

Leonius didn't stop. Cradling Yor, he tore through the maze-like tunnels to the deepest part of the nest.

Deep in the heart of the nest lay a sunken birthing pool, already brimming with warm nutrient fluid.

The faint earthy scent of the nest mingled with the fragrance of cattail grass, the damp chill should have been hell for a human, but the second Yor stepped inside, his body loosened a little.

Leonius shucked his clothes off in a few quick moves and stepped into the pool with Yor in his arms.

The fluid lapped at his waist. He set Yor down gently in the pool, the warm liquid cradling him, his huge belly impossible to miss.

The second he hit the pool, Yor's body started guzzling the nutrient fluid on autopilot. The pale liquid went clear before their eyes, and the auto life-support system pumped in fresh fluid to top it off.

Feeling the mother stir, the babies inside perked up, churning under the thin stretch of skin.

A human body couldn't take this kind of punishment... Yor's brow knitted, and thin, ragged groans slipped out of him.

Leonius didn't hesitate. He dipped his head and caught Yor's mouth.

Soft, warm, stupidly sweet... He almost forgot what he was doing, his head spinning with... a sweetness he hadn't tasted in forever, until Yor's belly kicked harder, wrenching sharper, needier whimpers out of him, and Leonius yanked himself back to the present.

He flooded Yor with his lord pheromones, slowly coaxing the Broodmother pheromones to circulate through Yor's system, trying to push him into shifting.

But the first shift was never easy, especially with Yor in rough shape. Pain kept yanking his focus away, and the silver insect marks that crawled up his arched toes kept flickering out the second they showed.

Blood started oozing from his belly button, tiny drops bleeding into the fluid and staining it a soft pink.

Leonius panicked. He cupped Yor's face, pressing his forehead to Yor's, murmuring, "Yor... follow me..."

His gut hurt so bad... too damn bad...

His insides were twisting, and the ripping ache in his belly barely registered next to it. Something familiar was tugging him along, but... he was just so tired.

The crushing exhaustion and pain made Yor want to stop dead. He just wanted to lie down and let this godawful pain pass on its own...

But it didn't... it just got worse... how could it hurt like this...

Yor started sobbing, the noise muffled as it leaked past his lips: "It hurts... help me..."

Leonius, frantic, flared his elytra, the edges quivering in the dim light, completely at a loss.

He used his psychic force to calm the restless eggs while pressing his forehead to Yor's: "Yor... wake up..."

The eggs settled, the pain eased a little, and Yor gasped, finally clawing his way out of the fog to open his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Leonius's steel-gray eyes, and something in him settled. Remembering what happened before he blacked out, he looped his skinny arms around the male's neck: "I haven't fully healed... but does this count as giving you your memories back?"

Leonius froze, his pupils shaking a little.

"Do your eyes change color?" Yor's voice was dazed, confused. "Just now, I could've sworn I saw your eyes flash gold..."

In a split second, Leonius figured out what was going on.

He quietly covered Yor's eyes, his palm flat against his lids, feeling the Broodmother's long lashes flutter against his palm.

But he didn't pull away—just kissed Yor hard, right there.

Damn the domain bugs. Damn himself. Damn all of it.

The male's kiss was rough and deep. Maybe because his eyes were covered, the gunpowder smell at the tip of his nose got sharper—he'd never noticed it before... Yor thought, dazed.

But with a kiss this hot, did it mean Leonius wasn't pissed anymore?

Was it... that Leonius wouldn't lock him up and force him to have kids with other war bugs after all...

When Leonius finally pulled away, he didn't touch on the stuff Yor cared about most. Instead, he leaned into Yor's ear, voice tight and low: "You're about to give birth. You need to shift into your insect form, Yor... follow me."

Only then did Yor realize something was wrong.

The pain from before wasn't an illusion—his stomach... He looked down in panic. The swollen bulge was enormous, so heavy, just like in a nightmare.

"I can't, I can't shift... I..." Panic nearly made Yor scream.

Leonius's forehead pressed against his again, his psychic force flowing into Yor's consciousness like a warm river: "You can. Your body can carry a pregnancy, so it can give birth. Just follow me... trust me."

Leonius's scorching pheromones led the way through his body, and Yor could only suppress his panic and try to keep up.

But it was truly too difficult. Time and again, the insect marks climbed to his toes, only to fail to advance further.

Perhaps it was the male behind him giving him support, but for the first time, Yor let himself be willful: "I can't, I really can't... I need to rest..."

Leonius clumsily coaxed him: "It's almost done. Take a deep breath, try a few more times—three times... try three more times, and you'll definitely succeed."

Holding Leonius's hand, Yor, amidst the extreme pain... oddly felt like laughing.

He wasn't actually at the point of giving up; he just inexplicably wanted to see Leonius panic. His first attempt at being coy was at a life-or-death moment—was he not going to live to see tomorrow?

He continued his unskilled antics: "It's all your fault, making me pregnant. Promise me you won't make me pregnant again."

Then, half-teasing, half-resigned, he added, "You won't make me bear children for other war bugs, right?"

Leonius didn't answer.

The male who had just been clumsily comforting him remained silent.

Yor turned to look at him in disbelief, his voice sharpening: "Leonius???"

He actually... he actually...

Even setting aside whether he truly meant it, at a life-or-death moment, couldn't he at least lie to him?

Leonius knew he was never good with words, but at this moment, he nearly ground his teeth to swallow back what he truly wanted to say.

He wanted to say that reaching this point was all his fault—that he should have knelt before Yor from the start and told him that no matter what, he would never force him.

He wanted to say that being born an insect was his original sin—that it was the insect race that had abducted Yor here, and that after meeting him, failing to protect Yor was his greatest failure.

He wanted to hold Yor in his arms and tell him with certainty, of course—of course he wouldn't make Yor bear children for other war bugs, for any other insect... and even Yor's desire to become a male insect, he had no objection to.

But all of that was already impossible.

To give birth to a Lord-level insect egg, Yor would have to accept the irrigation of countless war bugs, and after that, he would become a mature Broodmother, never able to become a male insect again.

Rather than telling him he'd been one step away from success, it would have been crueler than never giving him hope at all.

Leonius shot a desperate look at Yor, and murmured, "Come in, Seraphiel."

The Domain Insect Lord, who had been waiting, appeared in the nest, his golden eyes filled with sorrow. He knelt on one knee at the edge of the birthing pool, lowering his head slightly: "I'm sorry our first meeting has to be like this, when you're in so much pain."

Yor realized he was lying naked in the birthing pool, when another bug suddenly appeared... He instinctively curled in on himself, but when he caught the faint gold flickering in Seraphiel's eyes, it hit him.

He whipped around, staring at Leonius as if he'd been struck by lightning.

So back then... it wasn't you...?

But Leonius wouldn't meet his eyes.

Seraphiel continued, "I am Seraphiel, the Domain Insect Lord. Sir Yor, please come with me. I'll guide you through your transformation."

Yor shook his head frantically: "No, answer me first—was it you back then..."

Leonius not answering already said everything. In his panic, Yor's mental sea grew even more turbulent, and the Domain Insect Lord felt like he was supposed to be part of a Broodmother's mental sea.

Pain and panic overwhelmed Yor, and he accidentally linked with Seraphiel. With a lord-level anchor to stabilize his mental strength, his power suddenly swelled ten-thousandfold, sweeping outward violently through tunnel after tunnel, past the war bugs standing in formation at the nest entrance.

Yor froze. A dark mass of insect bodies, elytra half-open, compound eyes glowing red, waiting in orderly silence...

Which, of course, only made him fight harder.

Yor lunged at the edge of the birthing pool, ignoring the slippery ground and his swollen belly, trying to claw his way out: "What are you doing? You can't do this to me... You can't..."

Leonius had no choice but to use force, wrapping his arms tightly around Yor: "It takes the... irrigation of many high-grade war bugs..."

"Is this the same kind of 'irrigation' you did with me?" Yor's voice was almost a scream. "That's the same as telling me to just die!"

Leonius finally made his decision. Holding Yor down, he said to Seraphiel, "Start."

The Domain Insect Lord really was a master of the mental sea.

With just a wisp of silver thread, so fine it was almost invisible, he slipped past Yor's defenses and plucked a string deep in his consciousness—within a few breaths, the Broodmother's instincts were dragged to the surface.

Yor stared at Leonius in despair. Every fiber of his being fought it, but he couldn't resist the Broodmother instinct surging up from deep inside him.

A shimmering white light began to spread from Yor's toes, up his ankles, his calves... Silver-white insect markings crept up inch by inch, like mercury flowing over his skin. His bones shifted and lengthened. His slender limbs stretched slowly but steadily, becoming longer and more streamlined.

Intricate, beautiful patterns layered across his luminous white body like veins of moonlight—delicate, exquisite, glowing softly in the dim nest. His body became long and elegant, the tip of his tail curling slightly—like some ancient being wrapped in moonlight, just waking from a long slumber.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

But Yor, watching his own body from the depths of his mental sea, felt it was no different from those flesh worms floating in nutrient tanks back in the lab.

His last struggle was to push a thought through his consciousness: "Don't do this... please... let me try... I can lay eggs..." But once he transformed, his consciousness was crushed down by instinct into the deepest corner of his mental sea. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make a sound.

He was trapped in a cage again.

The massive Broodmother lay sprawled in the birthing pool. The nutrient solution was visibly draining away, golden liquid seeping into her body, greedily sucked up by the egg inside her.

Feeling the space and the abundance of nutrients, the egg inside her grew restless.

It kept growing, sending out a powerful demand—it needed more war bug consciousness to mature into a perfect next-generation lord.

At the nest entrance, the war bugs that received the call began to charge in chaos. Even without orders from their lord, they surged toward the depths like moths to a flame, guttural whines rumbling in their throats.

Leonius stood at the entrance, spreading his elytra like two black shields across the passage. But the bugs outside had gone mad, attacking relentlessly, sharp claws screeching against his elytra. His elytra quickly deformed and cracked, blood seeping from the edges.

The egg's call grew stronger. Leonius couldn't fight back—he could only endure, and he was reaching his limit.

A High-Grade Insect had already squeezed through a crack in his elytra. Leonius stomped on the fast male, crushing its forelimbs, and forced himself to say to Seraphiel: "Cut off Yor's senses. When this is over, erase his memories immediately—so when he wakes up, he won't..." He paused. "He won't fall apart."

Deep in his mental sea, humiliated and furious, Yor was gathering strength. The anger and hatred buried in the depths swelled like a growing fire. He was just waiting until he could take control—then he'd wipe himself out of existence and take these disgusting bugs with him.

"Hearing" Leonius's words, he let out a cold laugh. If he lost his memories, would he even be himself anymore? Just a mindless Broodmother who only knew how to lay eggs—a disgusting insect race...

But then he "heard" Seraphiel hesitate: "All of it? Every single memory?"

Leonius shook his head, his voice low: "No... start from when he escaped the Purification Department. A fresh start..." He gritted his teeth, like holding back the offspring behind him was taking everything he had. "I just want him to live... not to erase him. And I hope this time, the first one he meets isn't some useless war bug. You... you keep him safe."

Seraphiel froze: "What about you?"

"I'll take all the war bugs, seal us underground, and hatch the egg."

Start over?

Yor curled up in the deepest part of his mental sea, feeling the darkness slowly close in around him, like a gentle hand covering his eyes.

Could he really start over? He asked himself, over and over...

Slowly, he let his body go slack, letting the darkness swallow his consciousness. He couldn't feel anything from the outside world anymore.

"...It's done." Seraphiel's voice was barely a whisper.

Leonius finally pulled back his elytra. At the narrow cave entrance, the instinct-driven war bugs flooded into the nest like a tide.

The sound of the tail stinger piercing the Broodmother's ovarian sac was muffled, like a blunt blade sinking into wet mud.

Dark green liquid trickled down her luminous white body, mixing with the nutrient solution into murky swirls.

Egg sac after egg sac swelled, rolled off, and sank to the bottom of the pool. The Broodmother's body kept growing, her abdomen swelling bigger and bigger, like a balloon being blown up without end.

The presence of the Blue Star alien grew fainter in the suffocating frenzy—thinner and thinner, until it almost disappeared entirely in the dim nest.

Leonius had already stepped back. He stood guard at the nest entrance, back against the cold wall, head tilted up, eyes closed, breathing shallowly.

Nearby, Dexter was hunched over a terminal, doing something, his fingers moving fast. Leonius said without opening his eyes: "Why aren't you going in? At least... you could leave behind offspring."

Dexter shook his head. That wasn't what Yor wanted, and... it wasn't what he wanted either. But all he said was: "The Broodmother's already laying—one egg every three seconds. In a day, that's about thirty thousand eggs... Someone's gotta sort them out."

Even if Yor hated it, this was what he'd left behind—the deepest connection to the war bugs.

In the shadows around the corner, Taste crouched silently, curled into a ball. Water droplets hit the floor with faint sounds, quickly swallowed by the noise from the nest.

The three insects waited in silence.

But the night was so long, and dawn was far too slow in coming.

==========Author's Note:==========

Did I go too far with the angst? My readership keeps dropping (I deserve it...