Chapter 36

Chapter 36

The cloak was wrapped tightly, but being completely naked under the cloak was hardly comfortable.

Yor leaned against Leonius's chest, fingers poking out from the edge of the cloak to point at Seraphiel: "First wipe the memories of those war bugs, then wipe yours two."

This time Seraphiel really broke down—the fake tears that had been clinging to his lashes couldn't hold up anymore. Tears and snot were streaming down his face as he knelt in the wet mud by the pool's edge, he asked between sobs: "Mother... after I forget... will you still see me again?"

Before Yor could answer, Amon beside him had already jumped up. He ducked low and shot toward the nest wall, moving so fast he was just a blur—but the next second, he slammed into the ground with a "bang" beside Seraphiel, dust and mud splattering all over Seraphiel's face. Leonius casually folded his elytra back, like he'd just swatted a fly.

Yor almost laughed out of sheer exasperation. For a domain bug with combat skills that pathetic, his only advantages were stealth and speed, thanks to his psychic power. If it actually came down to a real fight...

"Dexter, come in." Yor suddenly looked up, connecting his psychic link to Dexter, who was waiting at the nest entrance.

Dexter showed up in the nest quickly. His gaze swept over the war bugs sprawled all over the floor, the thick clusters of eggs in the spawning pool, and finally landed on Yor. He studied Yor carefully—his face, his posture.

Thankfully, he seemed to be in decent spirits.

Knowing what Dexter was worried about, Yor smiled at him. "I'm fine."

He then lifted his chin, pointing at Amon. "I'll hold his psychic power down. You give him a beating."

Remembering everything this bug had done while disguised as Leonius, his voice dropped several degrees colder. "Beat him good. Just don't kill him."

Amon kept his eyes down, not saying a word.

Dexter didn't hesitate. He knew what Amon had done—posing as the lord, deceiving Yor, humiliating Yor, pushing everything to a point of no return.

He strode forward, each punch landing with a dull thud, flesh hitting flesh against Amon's shoulders, back, ribs, abdomen...

The sound of bones cracking was painfully clear in the silent nest. Yor could hear Amon's breathing change—from steady to short, sharp gasps—but he never let out a sound.

Dexter kept hitting until blood seeped from the corners of Amon's mouth and his spine curled into an even tighter curve. Only then did he slowly stop.

Amon lay on the ground, eyes down, silent.

Physical pain was nothing compared to being so hated by Mother.

Such a bloody scene—Yor still wasn't really used to it. He turned his head and shot Seraphiel a look. "Get started."

Seraphiel nodded with a sniffle, but couldn't help grabbing onto Yor's ankle and pressing his face against the small strip of exposed skin where the cloak's edge had lifted: "Mother... I'll wipe them right now, but please—give me another chance later... I'll do whatever you say..."

His words broke down into loud sobs. "Don't abandon me... please..."

Yor yanked his foot back with effort and snorted coldly. "Only rats hide in the shadows."

Not getting what you want was the better punishment. With Leonius protecting him, he'd be an idiot to keep living in hiding.

Hearing there would still be chances to see Mother again, Seraphiel slowly wiped his tears away, stole a glance at Yor to see if he was lying, and only then reluctantly spread his psychic power out.

Taking one last look at Yor, he gritted his teeth and let his psychic power surge out—his own and Amon's memories fading away along with it.

When he opened his eyes again, Seraphiel looked around in confusion at first. He remembered he'd just been sunbathing in his own courtyard... did Leonius come to find him?

And then what? Why couldn't he remember? Why wasn't he in the domain clan? What was he doing here?

Leonius was still right in front of him, and in his arms... in his arms...

Seraphiel froze, his breath quickening. His knees went weak, but he realized he was already kneeling...

His voice trembled, completely unable to believe what he was seeing: "...Mother?"

Behind him, Amon had just woken up and couldn't hold back the urge to edge closer to Yor. His whole body ached—shattered bones regrowing with faint "crackling" sounds, every movement sending sharp, stabbing pain through him—but all of it was forgotten the instant he saw Yor.

His trembling fingertips reached for the hem of Yor's clothing: "Mother..."

Leonius didn't even lower his head. A light flick of his elytra sent Amon flying again, crashing into the nest wall with a dull thud.

"You did something wrong," Leonius's voice came from above, steady and cold. "Mother punished you by wiping all your previous memories."

He glanced down at Yor and boldly added, "And you're not allowed to get near Mother."

Seraphiel's body jolted, at a loss.

Mother—the Mother every bug had been searching for who knew how long...

What had he done, to have even the precious memories of meeting Mother erased...

Amon beside him was far more accepting.

He pushed himself up from the ground with his arms, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. He knew his own nature well—it wouldn't be surprising if he'd done something to displease the Broodmother. What was strange was what a saint like Seraphiel could have done to earn the same punishment.

He didn't dwell on it, simply kneeling in front of Seraphiel, staring at Yor with burning intensity. "What must I do for Mother to forgive me?"

But Yor had no time for either of them. He suddenly turned sideways, pressing his forehead against Leonius's chest with a muffled groan.

Leonius immediately tensed: "What's wrong?"

Yor looked up at him without speaking, only gesturing for him to raise his arm, then lifted a corner of the cloak and pulled Leonius's head entirely inside.

Leonius, initially confused, was hit with a wave of honey-sweet fragrance the moment he entered the cloak, and instantly knew what he needed to do.

A Broodmother who had just finished laying, replenished with ample nutrition and pheromones... was fully mature.

The thick, viscous honey clogged her glands, swollen and aching, desperately needing relief. Because she had laid so many eggs, the honey produced had already begun seeping out on its own, flowing in rivulets down her pale, luminous skin.

The most loyal War Insect Lord would naturally resolve Mother's troubles.

From under the cloak came the sound of loud, greedy swallowing. Seraphiel knelt on the ground, watching helplessly as the cloak rose and fell continuously at Yor's chest, wisps of honey fragrance drifting into his nostrils. His pheromones exploded completely—only to be immediately crushed by the War Insect Lord's domineering presence.

As for Amon behind him, his eyes were already red. If he hadn't just suffered Mother's rejection, he would have rushed over to beg for a taste long ago.

But... there was truly too much honey.

Even with the strong male's hands and mouth working together, thick golden liquid still dripped down.

Amon finally couldn't hold back. He lunged forward and caught the soaked edge of the cloak in his mouth. After tasting the sweetness, he reached out to embrace the source of it.

—And was naturally swatted away by Leonius again.

Amon rolled twice on the ground, then climbed back up, staring with desperate longing, but didn't approach again.

Yor was left breathless by Leonius's actions. He patted Leonius's shoulder: "...Come out."

Leonius reluctantly gave two final gentle bites before slowly emerging from the cloak, a trace of gold still at the corner of his mouth, glinting faintly in the dim light.

Seraphiel knelt nearby, eyes shining. Mother... Mother... look at me...?

But Yor paid him no attention at all, simply instructing Leonius: "Carry me to the pool."

Leonius, as instructed, carried him into the birthing pool and gently lowered him into the shallow, golden nutrient solution.

The moment Yor's body touched the water, the dripping honey nectar mixed with the nutrient liquid, golden threads of honey slowly unfurled and spread through the water. The eggs at the bottom of the birthing pool trembled almost simultaneously, their tightly packed shells grew lustrous and glossy under the nourishment of the honey, like countless awakened hearts, pulsing softly beneath the surface.

Yor beckoned to Dexter. "Come soak with us."

Dexter froze for a moment.

Yor smiled at him. "There's no reason Taste should be a Sub-Lord while you're still lagging behind him."

Dexter was silent for a beat, asked no questions, shed his outer clothes, stepped into the birthing pool, and quietly settled in a corner.

In the pool, Leonius quietly wrapped his arms around Yor from behind, loosely circling his waist.

Yor patted his arm. "Done eating?"

Leonius buried his head in the crook of Yor's neck and shook his head, his gray hair tickling Yor's skin. "I can't eat anymore. I'm afraid I won't be able to control myself."

His low voice murmured by Yor's ear, sending an unsettling flutter through his heart.

Yor chuckled softly, then turned around to straddle Leonius's waist, tapping his own lips. "Kiss me."

No insect was more obedient than Leonius.

He immediately lowered his head, gently capturing the lips he'd craved day and night, suppressing his urgency as best he could, his knuckles pressing into the soft dip of the Broodmother's waist.

Kiss after tender kiss—Yor's toes curled from the feeling, his fingers clutching the fabric at Leonius's shoulders, his breath hitched before he finally pulled back, leaning against Leonius's shoulder, his voice still unsteady. "…We need to figure something out. We can't just keep bottling it up."

But until a solution was found, they couldn't go any further. These insect brats—whoever wanted to spawn could spawn; Yor wasn't interested in making more for now.

This time, the honey just wouldn't stop. Yor pressed his face into the hollow of Leonius's shoulder, leaning into him, using the pressure to coax the honey out faster, while one hand wandered mischievously underwater, toying with the War Insect Lord's hand—the one that could easily tear through mech armor. "The Serian clan's psychic power is very useful to me."

Leonius nodded. "I'll head out tomorrow to find their homeworld."

Bandit.

Yor laughed. "I'm coming with you."

Leonius knew that the Serian clan's most lethal psychic attacks had no effect on Yor, so he naturally agreed. "Alright."

Yor kept whispering sweet nothings into his favorite male insect's ear. "Once we find a way to control it, we'll go back to your starship, to the medical bay. This time, I'll really help you recover those three days of memories, okay?"

Leonius lowered his gaze to look at him, his pheromones exploding outward, crushing Seraphiel and Amon flat to the ground. "Okay."

Seraphiel's face pressed into the mud, yet he still couldn't help lifting his eyes, watching the intimate way Mother and Leonius whispered and touched.

Through the thick pheromones, he couldn't make out their words, but those murmurs, those occasional soft laughs, those delicate sounds brushing against ears... He was so envious his heart felt like it was breaking. He desperately wanted to ask what sins his past self had committed, to make Mother cast him aside like a worn-out shoe.

And Amon... Amon was now as sturdy as a guard clan member.

Fortunately, Yor seemed finally done tormenting these two insects—or perhaps he simply found the whole affair boring—and he crooked a finger at Amon.

Amon immediately scurried over, his eyes blazing with intensity.

"Go to the Purification Department," Yor said in a flat tone. "Tell Zane that the Broodmother's fragments carry mental contamination. Tell him to stop the experiments and figure out how to study that contamination instead."

He paused, then added, "And don't waste the test subjects either."

Amon stared at Yor with pleading eyes. "Mother, if I complete the task, will you forgive me?"

Yor let out a scoff. "Mental contamination is your species' problem. Go or don't—your choice."