Chapter 50

Chapter 50

"Take me away." Yor, perched on Lima's arm, didn't look back at Zane, addressing only the two Domain Insect Lords who had rushed over. "Take me away, now."

No explanation was needed. No further words were required.

The two domain bugs moved almost simultaneously. Amon positioned himself in front of Yor and Lima. His body still bore unhealed wounds, but he ignored them, keeping a wary eye out for any weapons.

Seraphiel likewise said nothing. He shifted slightly, standing half a step behind Amon. The Domain Insect Lord's psychic energy silently unfurled behind him like an invisible barrier, blocking the pressure emanating from Zane's direction.

"Mother..." Zane's voice was laced with confusion and barely contained agitation. "Given the Domain bugs' combat ability, how could you pin your hopes on two useless insects? Leonius is already asleep—wouldn't it be better to rely on me?"

Yor didn't even spare him a glance. He just patted Amon's shoulder. "Let's go."

Seeing the domain bug obediently turn to leave, Zane finally dropped all pretense of restraint. He raised a finger, and the laboratory walls behind him flipped open to reveal row after row of weapon muzzles—a dark, imposing array—all of the Purification Clan's latest research.

Shells charged in their chambers, the air around them warping with heat. The entire wall seemed to come alive, its cold muzzles trained squarely on Amon.

Amon reacted quickly. His elytra snapped open in the same instant, wrapping tightly around Yor and Lima, completely shielding them.

The pale scales that had regrown after his wings were corroded by poison gas stood out starkly under the starlight, mottled against the older, darker scales. But when he shielded Yor, he didn't hesitate, didn't spare a thought for the gun muzzles aimed at his back.

He only said, incredulous, "Zane, you've lost your mind."

This was the second time—the second time he'd aimed weapons at his own mother.

Seraphiel's expression darkened as well. "Zane, are you betraying the Broodmother?"

Zane acted as if he hadn't heard a word. His gaze locked on Yor, he took a few slow steps closer. "Mother... these memories, these narratives... I spent so long weaving them. You were destined to be our mother. Why not accept the beautiful dream I crafted just for you?"

He stepped closer. "Why fight to uncover the truth? The real world will only hurt you, Mother... how could I stand to watch you suffer?"

Sensing Yor's tension, Lima took a big step back, putting more distance between them and Zane.

Perched in Lima's arm, Yor felt his legs begin to ache—maybe from the sheer emotional strain. The affliction that had once tormented him seemed to be flaring up again. "Whether I become the Broodmother, and what kind of Broodmother I become—that's my call to make."

"No matter how painful the struggle, you have no right to decide that for me."

Zane took another step forward. He raised his hand, reaching toward Yor... Amon's elytra snapped viciously, batting the hand away.

Can't touch... Mother rejected him, yet a useless domain bug could stand before her, so close.

Zane's hand froze mid-air. His mechanical hand slowly clenched, joints grinding with faint metallic sounds.

He laughed, furious. "No right to decide?"

His gaze fell on Amon, contempt naked in his eyes. "If I hadn't made decisions back then, these two bugs would've been dust long ago. Would they still be standing here, wagging their tails for your approval?"

Yor opened his mouth.

This bug had done terrible things, but whether it was Seraphiel, Amon, or himself—they all genuinely owed him their lives.

He had altered Amon's memories, telling him he was a fragment split from Seraphiel, created to bear the pain—cruel, yes, but it had given Amon a reason to live.

So that the "main consciousness" could survive, endless suffering became worth enduring.

A hopelessly tangled mess, pointless to unravel.

Yor had no desire to change a grown bug's worldview. He only said, weary, "Everything you say is right. But I don't like it."

As the words fell, Yor patted Lima's arm, signaling to be set down, then turned and walked toward Amon.

Under the gaze of the others, Yor reached out and took hold of Amon's chin.

Amon instinctively lowered his head to follow the pull. Before he could react, Yor pressed in... a feather-light kiss landed on his lips.

Gone as soon as it touched, as light as a feather.

Amon froze, pupils slightly dilated, completely unable to process what had just happened.

Yor let go and patted his cheek. "I like obedient children." He tilted his head to look at Zane. "Obedient children are good children, Amon—right?"

The sweet scent of Mother still lingered on his lips. Amon finally snapped out of it.

His whole body trembled—from his fingertips to the tips of his elytra—his voice shaking: "Mother... Amon will obey. Amon will be your most obedient child..."

Yor nodded, satisfied. "Let's go."

Zane's face contorted, his voice turning shrill: "No... you can't! It was me... I found Mother... Mother should be mine! MINE!"

Unable to take his fury out on Mother, Zane turned on Amon. "This is my home planet. With just the two of you useless bugs, you think you can take Mother from me?"

Amon only pressed closer to Mother, holding his ground. "Even if... even if it costs me my life..."

Yor watched Zane through narrowed eyes, as if a thought had just struck him. He said, out of nowhere: "Here works too."

Before the others could figure out what he meant, he turned back to look at Amon.

A smile curved the corner of his mouth. Yor's gaze was gentle as he tapped his own lips, motioning toward Amon.

What? Did he mean what Amon thought he meant?

Yes! It had to be!

Amon's throat bobbed. He stared into Mother's eyes and slowly leaned closer.

Mother made no move to pull away.

Amon approached like an eager little beast, but at the closest distance, he grew cautious again, brushing against her lips tentatively, as if checking this wasn't an illusion.

Mother... hadn't pushed him away.

He tested with the tip of his tongue, darting in and pulling back. Not only did Mother not object, she even let out a soft chuckle.

Encouraged, Amon's willpower crumbled in an instant. The urges he'd barely held back burst forth like floodwaters through a broken dam. He raised a hand to cradle the back of Mother's head and kissed her fiercely, hungrily.

This was no gentle male. When his lips pressed down, there was an almost rude urgency. His tongue pried open Yor's lips, and as he delved inside, he couldn't quite stifle a short, breathy whimper.

His mottled elytra trembled, making faint rustling sounds. The Broodmother's scent was so intoxicating it frightened him, yet he couldn't bear to pull away.

He kissed without finesse—urgent, heavy. Several times his teeth caught Yor's lower lip, and he'd pull back, only to press in again the next moment, deeper and harder, as if trying to grind every year of waiting, pain, and hunger since birth into this single moment.

So soft... so fragrant... His male pheromones surged uncontrollably, flooding into Yor's body along with his frantic emotions.

The long-dry gestation sac seemed to finally find water, warming slightly, pulsing gently.

When the kiss ended, Yor's breath was unsteady. He raised his eyes, catching the stunned look on Zane's face in his peripheral vision. His gaze flickered, and he praised, "...Amon... good child."

His voice was still rough from the kiss.

Amon gasped heavily, tears streaming down his face without him even realizing it: "Mother..."

Yor looked up at him, reaching out to gently wipe the tears from the corner of his eye: "Why are you such a crybaby."

As if that wasn't enough, he pulled the male bug's head down and rose onto his tiptoes to kiss the tears from his face, "Salty, Amon..."

Amon wanted to scream. He wanted to spread his elytra and take a couple laps in the sky, but even two laps wouldn't calm him down—maybe he'd need to dive to the freezing bottom of a lake to cool the blood that felt like it was about to boil over.

Zane's fists were clenched tight, veins bulging on his forehead.

—One last breath.

Yor lowered his eyes, his fingers drifting to his collar, slowly undoing two buttons, and whispered softly into the domain bug's ear: "Good Amon... serve me."

Though the voice was soft, not even the faintest sound from the Broodmother could escape a male bug's ears.

"No!!!" Zane's voice tore from the depths of his throat, raw and ragged. He thrust his hand up abruptly, and every cannon muzzle on the wall lit up at once, all aimed at Amon, searing energy condensing into blinding light in the barrels.

Before Amon could even fully spread his elytra, the shells were already fired.

He gritted his teeth, spreading his mottled wings to shield Yor tightly, turning to run—but... Yor pressed a hand on his shoulder.

Amon froze.

Yor's hand rested on his shoulder, his voice echoing simultaneously in the mental seas of both Amon and Seraphiel: "Link. All of the clan." The voice cut through cannon fire and smoke, reaching straight into their minds. "Now."

This was the domain bugs' instinct.

Under the Broodmother's command, anchor points lit up one by one, layer by layer, spreading from the two Domain Insect Lords to the Sub-Lords, and beyond, to every domain bug stationed across the world.

Those anchor points, buried deep in the mental seas since birth and never truly used, now blazed to life one after another in rapid succession, and heeding their mother's call, they unfurled their mental power outward, linking every bug within each station's reach, igniting the mental seas of every insect.

No matter what they were doing, every bug stopped.

A pure bug cleaning equipment froze, the tool slipping from its grip to the floor; a domain bug basking in the sun snapped its eyes open and bolted upright; a war bug striding across a distant planet's surface paused, looking up toward the vague direction it sensed.

In their mental seas, the same image slowly unfolded.

Under a sky full of stars, a slender young man stood, his gaze calm and steady, as if settling on every single bug.

Mother...?

Mother!!!

Mother is back!!!

....

Shock, awe, disbelief, speechlessness, babbling, tears streaming down faces...

The eyes of the entire insect race turned toward their mother, whom they had awaited for countless ages...

Could their race be saved at last?

Warm currents rippled through the mental seas, like early spring meltwater seeping through frozen soil, and beneath the hard, dry clods, stubborn seeds were about to sprout.

The mother's mental power swept through their mental seas like a gentle breeze—one light touch—and those stagnant, clogged mental seas, blocked for who knows how many years, were gently stirred, the hardened knots loosening.

Some bugs cried, some trembled, some clutched their chests, unable to speak.

The mother they had yearned for across countless generations had returned.

As the two strongest pillars of the entire link, Seraphiel and Amon stood with their eyes squeezed shut, bodies trembling slightly, bearing the immense flood of mental energy.

In the thick smoke of the barrage, Yor opened his eyes, and concealed by the haze, his body began to change.

A faint silver glow spread across his skin, like moonlight crushed and pressed onto him. His bones stretched, his spine arching slightly, then unfolding.

A vast, graceful Broodmother form slowly took shape, the tip of her tail emerged from the smoke, sweeping lightly over the rubble on the ground, the scale-covered tail tip rising slightly, unfurling freely.

Zane's mind was consumed by rage and despair. He only wanted to destroy those irritating elytra, his blinded eyes unable to see the massive silhouette taking shape in the smoke.

A shell landed beside the Broodmother, shrapnel burying deep into her newly formed pearly-white flesh—immediately, sharp pain shot through the mental link into every bug's consciousness.

It's Mother!!!

Mother is hurt!!!!

The bugs in the link nearly instantly fell into a berserk state, elytra flaring open in reflex, eyes bloodshot. Even the domain bugs let out continuous low growls, strengthening the mental link.

Urgent, clumsy, furious thoughts flooded into the mental sea from all directions.

Where... where is Mother??

Who hurt Mother... Mom, where are you...

Does it hurt... let us help... let us help you... we'll do anything....

Countless desires to protect Mother surged forth, vast mental power flowing from every domain bug's anchor point, like countless rushing rivers converging toward the same direction.

They landed in Yor's mental sea, then fell upon the Broodmother's body, the pearly-white skin becoming supple and tough, hardily absorbing the fragments of a second shell.

Yor lowered his head, looking at his body now coated in a layer of light, somewhat moved inside. These thoughts were sincere enough—they truly worried about the Broodmother's safety.

The earlier shrapnel was pushed out by newly grown flesh, bringing with it a faint trace of blood.

Zane seemed to sense something, hesitantly stopping his movements, "...Mother?"

Could it be... he had actually hurt Mother?

Impossible... impossible... he had calculated it—these shells would at most severely wound Amon, not harm the mother he had shielded so thoroughly. But...

Unease and dread rose in his heart. Zane called out again, "Amon?"

No bug answered him. He stumbled back two panicked steps but dared not approach further.

Yor stared at Zane for a moment, sighed, and spoke softly through the mental link: "I need your help."

The mental sea fell instantly silent.

The urgency, the agitation, the impulse to rush out and shield Mother from everything—all came to an abrupt halt. They waited with full attention, ready to give everything they had the moment Mother gave the command.

Yor recalled that night at the mine, remembering that ancient rhythm. He had no elytra himself, but... Amon moved.

No sound was needed. Amon caught a frequency, following Yor's mental power, and with his battered, broken elytra, struck the first beat.

Shh.

Shh-shh.

Shh-shh-shh.

...

The ancient resonance spread like ripples, slowly unfolding across the vast mental landscape.

From the nearest domain insect to the farthest, every linked insect, one by one, unfurled their wing cases, following the mother's will.

"It was the chieftain of the Purification Clan who found me," Yor's voice echoed through the mental sea. "But something is wrong with him. Follow me, children, and pray he finds peace again."

The fierce insect race, at this moment, were the most obedient, well-behaved children. A vast, overwhelming response surged back, silently crashing against every mental anchor.

No hesitation, no doubt—only one thought: to fulfill their mother's wish.

Zane froze mid-motion, staring blankly as the orb of light came crashing down on him.

The massive golden orb resembled the Broodmother's mental fragments that had once invaded him, but... there was no burning pain, no chaos—only softness and warmth.

Within the orb was a brilliant point of light, and Zane stared at it, mesmerized. There was no doubt—it was Yor...

"Mother..." he called out through the mental sea.

Yor did not respond, but enveloped him with precision, peeling away his dwindling core consciousness from the chaotic Broodmother fragments.

The golden orb fully descended, and beneath waves of ancient vibrations, the chaos and confusion tangled within the fragments—those curses and furies steeped too long in the Broodmother's remains—were slowly unraveled, smoothed, and swept away.

A long, silent purification—time itself seemed to lose all meaning.

Yor felt the mental sea, which had always stung with pain, gradually settle into calm.

When he opened his eyes again, the link was eerily silent—except for Yor, every insect had fallen into a deep sleep.

The children sent purifying power to the Broodmother, and the Broodmother, receiving the surging power, in turn untangled her children's mental seas—a healing that flowed both ways.

Yor had already shifted back to his human form—a shape that brought him far more comfort.

Zane lay still off to the side. With the Broodmother's mental fragments stripped away, given his constitution as a lord, he should recover quickly, but... his own core consciousness was nearly gone, and it was hard to say whether he would ever wake up again.

He had once sent Ling Yue into a life-or-death gamble, barely managing to save his life, and now Yor had repaid him with the same uncertain fate.

Whether he lived or died without the Broodmother genes—both poison and cure—was his own fate.

Seraphiel and Lima lay to the side, with Lima pinned beneath Seraphiel.

Seraphiel's personality was made of pure goodness; even in that critical moment, he'd remembered to protect Lima.

He'd never been one to hold onto negative emotions, and this time he was probably exhausted beyond measure, sleeping like a baby, even the fierce jealousy he'd felt toward Amon moments ago already forgotten.

As for Amon, he'd been wounded earlier, and now, at Yor's request, had once again taken the full brunt of artillery fire, while also enduring the mental impact of linking the entire swarm—a burden far too heavy.

His body on the ground curled slightly, trembling even in deep sleep, unable to find peace. Had he not been accustomed to suffering, long habituated to struggling through pain, the impact just now would have been enough to break him.

Yor felt a pang of guilt. Whether he liked it or not, this time he had used him.

Above the three insects, a golden orb floated silently—the purified Broodmother mental fragment, containing her legacy, with abundant energy surging within.

A vague consciousness transmitted: "Eat me, eat me... You are the hope. Gain more power, save the insect race..."

Fortunately, the purified consciousness was merely information transfer, without the previous contamination and invasive capability, and certainly wouldn't actively collide with him like the first time.

Yor recalled the intent he'd felt upon first contact with the Broodmother fragment—the gaze across time and space with the final Broodmother. Perhaps she had seen her only hope. Though she had endured immense suffering, at her core she still deeply loved the insect race, hoping this race would no longer be deformed, hoping the guard clan would know when to stop, hoping her children would be saved.

But...

If saving the insect race required the Broodmother to desperately birth more children, then this wretched race might as well be left to its natural course toward destruction.

Whether it sensed Yor's sentiment or not, the orb dimmed slightly. Through its translucent glow, he could see Amon's trembling form on the ground, and faint murmurs...

"Mother... Amon will be good..."

Yor gazed quietly ahead. In the orb's reflection, the once sharp-edged human now had softened features, with someone in his heart to care for—and... he could no longer stand apart from it all.

After a long moment, he gently reached out, touched the golden orb, and let the gentle energy flow into his body.

Looking at the battered male insect, Yor let out a sigh.

He kept his word—he didn't deceive insects.

The orb fully dissolved. Vast, overwhelming Broodmother pheromones surged through Yor's body, but unlike before, they no longer uncontrollably diffused outward. Instead, they were firmly bound around his body by full, healthy, powerful mental energy.

Starlight fell upon Yor's shoulders. The sleeping insects showed no signs of waking. He crouched down and gathered the tattered coat on Amon that had been torn by shrapnel.

Amon's eyes snapped open. "Mother... Mother..."

Yor looked at the worry in the male insect's eyes and shook his head. "I'm fine. But you—can you still serve me?"