Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Yor was carried on Leonius's arm, eyeing the world before him like it was a threat.

However, the spirits attracted by the starship's landing stared at the group of visitors for a while, and seeing no new actions from them, quickly dispersed, continuing their aimless wandering.

So it wasn't a survival horror scenario... Yor looked around in bewilderment.

Leonius, whose psychic senses were even duller than Yor's, was just as lost, while Seraphiel was staring fixedly in one direction, almost in a daze.

There...

So much... Broodmother aura?!

Though weak, fragmented, deranged, even violent... a domain bug could never misidentify the Broodmother's scent.

Yor extended his senses along Seraphiel's psychic line of sight, and his face went pale—experimental subjects?!

Not fully intact ones, either... more like fragments of test subjects.

Yor's expression grew heavy as he patted Leonius's shoulder. "Head that way."

Leonius didn't ask questions, swinging the hovercraft around and speeding toward the area where that aura was thickest.

But clearly, they weren't the only ones who'd sensed the others—those test subjects had picked up on the bugs' scent too, and their reaction was faster, and far more... violent.

Spirits swarmed in from every direction, throwing themselves at the ship in a barrage of self-destructs with no rhyme or reason—no tactics at all, just pure suicidal ramming.

Seraphiel threw up a protective barrier, a pale golden film wrapping the hovercraft in protection.

Yor linked to Leonius's psychic sea, using the method he'd learned when he'd sorted out Leonius's mindscape on the starship, dissipating the blast force in layers.

But oddly enough, the explosions all seemed to steer clear of Yor.

Even though all three of them were sitting together, the spirits acted like Yor didn't exist, charging only at the other two bugs.

Yor mulled it over, then decided to just spread his psychic energy out like a film, coating Leonius and Seraphiel from head to toe in a thin membrane.

Sure enough, the spirits glanced around, bewildered, as if they'd suddenly lost the scent, confused as to why the bugs, which had been blazing like beacons moments ago, had suddenly blinked out of existence.

Yor let out a relieved breath. He didn't dare make any sudden moves, murmuring to Seraphiel about whether they should push deeper toward where the consciousness fragments were more concentrated.

Just as they hesitated, a sleek, luminous spirit slowly emerged from the mist.

Unlike the other fragmented spirits, he was remarkably... whole. Though you could still feel the chaos radiating off him, he'd forcibly shoved that chaos down to the very bottom of his mindscape, keeping it from bleeding out.

He walked slowly to Yor, stopped, stared at him for a long time, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough from disuse: "...experimental subject... Yor?"

Yor's eyes went wide in an instant.

Through the swirling haze, he studied the face before him—brown hair, deep-set eyes and strong brows, his features far softer and rounder than a bug's...

He could hardly believe it: "You... you're the one who was in the pod across from mine?"

The brown-haired man nodded. "My name is Daniel." He paused, forcing the corners of his mouth upward. "I know this isn't the best time or place for this, but... I'm genuinely so happy to see you again."

Yor opened his mouth, at a loss for words. Last time they met, he had woven Daniel a dream—but he had also witnessed his death.

"You... how..." Yor's voice caught in his throat.

Daniel seemed to know what he wanted to ask. He looked down at his translucent hand. "The Broodmother's genes are ruthless. Its monstrous reproductive drive doesn't just churn out life by the thousands—it even... forcibly anchors souls like ours, tainted with Broodmother genes and consciousness, to this world."

Even now, thinking back on those days in the lab still made Daniel's skin crawl.

Just a tiny sliver of genetic material was enough to force the body to grow gestation sacs on its own, while the mind was invaded by something alien and malevolent, slipping further into madness with each passing day.

"Even death wouldn't release us." Daniel gave a bitter smile. "My mind is still mostly intact. The others... the corruption was too agonizing. They were already incomplete, and they'd periodically fall into chaos, so every so often they'd go out, releasing that chaos onto the bugs through self-destruction, while their core consciousness returned to Serian Star, slowly absorbing psychic energy, waiting to descend into chaos again..."

"Then why the war bugs?" Yor blurted out. After all, if it were him, his primary target would be the Purification Department.

"War bugs always cluster together densely—easy to find. But more importantly... the Purification Department side won't work. Going there can't release the chaos; it only drags back even more foul consciousness."

The more Yor listened, the more it sounded like... psychic contamination.

The Purification Department's laboratories held too many Broodmother psychic fragments, which could reversely contaminate these broken consciousnesses. So the war bugs became the unlucky targets.

Of course, from the experimental subjects' perspective, they weren't unlucky at all—they were all bugs, and if the experiments succeeded, everyone would benefit.

Leonius, who had remained silent, suddenly spoke: "Where did you get your shuttlecraft?"

Even in his spiritual state, hearing a bug speak, Daniel still rolled his eyes.

He had none of the patience with Leonius that he had with Yor. He snorted. "Do you bugs have any idea how you're perceived across the universe? Of course, they came from other galactic creatures who resent you. All they have to provide is some shuttlecraft—no precious lives lost—and they get to see you die in droves. They're more than happy to help. We have more shuttles than we could ever use."

Still unsatisfied, he added what he thought was the most devastating remark: "You bugs—no one in the entire universe loves you!"

"..."

Leonius and Seraphiel looked utterly bewildered. Why would they need other races to love them?

Yor couldn't stand to see his fellow human get shut down, so he delivered the killing blow with a deadpan tone: "Right. Even their own mother abandoned them."

!!!

The two lords... were struck as if by lightning.

Daniel burst into wheezing laughter, his spiritual form shaking so hard it scattered slightly.

It took him a while to compose himself. Turning to Yor, he said sincerely, "I was actually in an accident when I was young—high-level paraplegia. By the time the bugs captured me, I was already suffering from various complications; swallowing and breathing were both difficult. After being modified, I regained a strong body, even the ability to walk and run... but then I was treated as a vessel for parasitism. From one hell to another. The only kindness fate ever showed me was meeting you at the very end of my life."

"I've always wanted to see you," he said earnestly, looking at Yor. "Thank you for giving me a beautiful dream. It was a dream you wove for me, and it let me maintain a clear, complete human form. By replaying that dream over and over, I survived these chaotic, lonely, hopeless days."

Yor listened without speaking, but his fingers clenched at his side.

He... had only been sympathizing with a fellow sufferer at the time...

"You're special." Daniel looked at Yor. He had actually been brought onto the Purification Department's ship the same day as Yor. Back then, Yor had suffered some terrible accident—his entire lower body had been destroyed, and he'd lost consciousness.

And now... he was lively and energetic, seemingly completely unaffected psychologically by that incident. He had withstood the Broodmother's genes and become fate's darling.

Yor had no idea of the envy in Daniel's heart, nor was he aware of his own lost memories. He just felt his scalp tingle. The Broodmother's genes were toxic, weren't they? Even in death, spirits were trapped here because of their influence. Would he be the same after death?

That would be true hell—eternal damnation.

But Daniel seemed to see through Yor's thoughts. He shook his head. "You're different. There's no anchor in your psychic sea."

Yor was taken aback. He carefully sensed his own psychic sea and belatedly realized—that so-called anchor was probably the psychic contamination.

He tried to sort through his thoughts. Every experimental subject had Broodmother fragments integrated into them during modification. Because of the psychic contamination and the bizarre energy of Serian Star, they couldn't find release even after death, trapped in a miserable state like earthbound spirits.

And in his own mental sea...

After the fragment originally belonging to the centaur clan was taken by Amon, he woke up...

No, wait—what about the contamination from the fragment on him when the experiment first started?

Yor's thoughts raced, and he suddenly remembered that night of the collective mental grooming in the mines...

It was the war bugs—their ancient prayers and resonance—that had dispelled the contamination on him.

Yor let out a long breath, still shaken.

He reached out lightly, scooping up a nearby mental cluster that had almost no remaining consciousness. It didn't resist, probably sensing the same Broodmother aura. It pressed softly against his palm. "Before I came, I thought I could absorb energy and refine my mental power further..."

He'd also gain more self-defense capability, but with all this mental contamination around, who would dare absorb anything now.

But behind him, Leonius suddenly patted his shoulder and said with a bitter smile, "You still have to absorb it, I..."

Yor turned around and saw that a massive cluster of energy had suddenly gathered around Leonius. Countless thin strands extended from the cluster, coiling and climbing upward from his feet, wrapping around him layer by layer. In no time, his calves were hidden from view.

Yor rushed over in a panic, reaching out to tear at the energy threads, but they seemed to have a will of their own—so tight and dense they were impossible to pull away.

Leonius raised a hand to steady him: "I'm fine, it's just... possibly cocooning..." Setting aside what he himself wasn't certain of, he quickly voiced his greatest concern, "Yor, you need to absorb the mental energy—the guard clan... the guard clan may be awakening."

The faces of both Yor and Seraphiel turned deathly pale.

But there was no time to worry about the guard clan at the moment. Yor released all of his mental power, pressing down on the surging energy cluster. "Really? Just cocooning? Are you sure it won't harm you?"

"I'm sure, it's just... I'm sorry, I'll have to sleep for a while." Seeing Yor so worried made him ache and... feel satisfied. His gaze lingered on Yor's face, full of deep longing: "Protect yourself, no matter what happens... live, stay alive, Yor..."

The energy threads had already covered his chest. Behind the faint, flickering energy form, Leonius's head slowly drooped.

A massive, grayish-white cocoon hovered above the water, still thickening, until it completely concealed the male insect's body within.

Yor stood before the cocoon, looking up at it, his chest feeling tight. He reached out and touched the cocoon's wall. "You have to come back... you liar who never keeps your word..."

The silent cocoon gave no response.

Yor lowered his head, gathering himself, and after a long moment, turned to Daniel: "I'll do my best to absorb the mental bodies here. You..."

Daniel smiled, his eyelashes fluttering slightly: "Thank you for letting me be free again."

Yor looked at him, gently extending his hand until his fingertips touched the wisp of mental energy spilling from Daniel's forehead.

"Goodbye." Daniel closed his eyes, and his entire mental form gradually softened, wisps flowing into Yor's fingertips—including the last of those wildly surging contaminations...

Watching Daniel dissolve into a faint light, eventually scattering like morning mist, Yor finally couldn't hold back the sting behind his nose. "Sweet dreams..."

The mental contamination made his mental sea resist and churn. As Yor endured it silently, Seraphiel walked to his side. The Domain Insect Lord knelt on one knee. "Mother, you still have me."

Yor looked down at him. "You can't absorb this contamination either."

Pure white grass blades spread wildly behind Seraphiel, then carefully gathered together, until they cradled Yor entirely within a cage formed of leaves.

Seraphiel stood up, this time not in humble supplication but with boldness, reaching out to pull Yor into his embrace. His mental sea actively linked with Yor's. "Mother, I'm inadequate because I can't give you the peace Leonius did, and I'm useless because I can't filter the mental contamination. But... I beg you, at least let me help you soothe the negative emotions in these mental bodies."

Feeling the honesty and serenity in his mental sea, Yor was silent for a moment before nodding.

This wasn't something he could handle alone anyway.

On the Purification Department's home planet, Amon, who was in the middle of arranging for experimental subjects to be sent to other star domains, suddenly froze.

He turned, staring fixedly in the direction of the Serein planet, then set down what he was doing and boarded a ship, jumping at maximum speed to a barren star system.

A massive black grass plant slowly unfurled in the starry sky, each leaf silently spreading open, quietly awaiting the pain that was to come.

He was ready for it.

As a domain bug, it was his duty to bear the pain of his mother's mental sea, no matter whether that pain would utterly destroy him or not.

In the mental sea, Yor's voice was soft. "Then I'll begin."

"Mm." Two voices echoed in his mind at once—one warm and calm, the other lazy and confident.

As Yor opened the barriers of his mental sea, the surrounding mental bodies surged toward him as if drawn by some force.

Those broken, fragmented, twisted consciousnesses—those chaotic, agonizing accumulations of who knew how long—poured into his mental sea like a tide.

Amon closed his eyes, preparing to receive that wave of surging pain.

The next moment, however, he felt himself... tightly embracing his mother.

The main consciousness, which had fled for countless ages, once again acted on its own will.

In the barren star system, the pure white grass blades thrashed wildly from the pain, like fragile stems torn by a storm, as black patterns gradually crept up their edges.

Amon looked down in a daze, enveloped in a tranquility he had never known. The grass blades behind him grew fainter and fainter, gradually becoming like the main consciousness's grass blades—the ones he had always envied.

Holding his mother tightly in his arms, Amon felt moisture spread at the corners of his eyes....