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| The Beloved Little Mother Insect (LITTLE MOTHER) |
Irradiated Wasteland—
The Galactic-class Battleship's controlled stay time had expired. Its protective systems activated automatically and closed the access port facing the battlefield below while rapidly ascending to escape the range of the Radiation Storm.
Olovikin, who had been thrown into the battleship at the last second by Pearl's psionic backlash, scrambled to his feet. Though the battle had left him disheveled, it couldn't conceal his noble, elegant demeanor.
He grabbed Tilan, who was standing at the hatch, and said hoarsely, "When will the Star Alliance approve the application for the Titan-class warship?"
Most starship materials were sourced from various types of ore across different planets, with different grades of ore determining resistance to Radiation Storm intensity.
Stellar-class ships could only observe from afar and not approach the storm, Galactic-class could enter the storm with a maximum stay of ten minutes, while the Titan-class warship—requiring Star Alliance approval—could remain for up to an hour.
Tilan—Hui's twin brother and also the youngest Star Alliance liaison officer of the Narga Hivemind Imperium—replied gravely, "It's already been approved."
He glanced at the small holographic screen floating on his wrist and answered, "It will arrive in ten minutes."
"Tch."
Olovikin gritted his teeth, then swept back his platinum-blond hair. The Elytra attached behind his shoulder blades half-spread, ready for a dive.
Olovikin: "Open the hatch. I'm going down directly."
Tilan: "But..."
"No buts."
Olovikin, who usually maintained his noble image, wiped a bloodstain from his cheek—his skin was pale, but his lips were strikingly crimson. "The Narga King is still down there. What is there to hesitate about?"
Tilan paused slightly, then raised his hand to signal the hatch opening.
As Olovikin prepared to jump from ten thousand meters high, he glanced back, his dark golden eyes shadowed when they fell on Tilan.
He said, "...The New King is different."
The cold wind from the high altitude rushed through the half-open hatch, whipping Tilan's clothes. He tilted his head toward the now-empty hatchway, brushed aside his fallen hair with a gloved hand, and chuckled softly.
His deep blue eyes, identical to Hui's, were dark and lightless, revealing an unfamiliar gloom.
"Different, is he?"
He thought of that fleeting shadow he hadn't clearly seen, then recalled the giant sandworm that had exploded into bloody fragments before murmuring again: "Perhaps... it truly is different."
The tall young man stood silently at the aircraft door where the wind whipped through. No matter how violently the high-altitude wind raged or how fiercely his clothes flapped and snapped, Tilan remained perfectly steady.
Those long, powerful legs didn't waver in the slightest, supporting their owner's upright posture as he gazed down from above at Olovikin rapidly falling toward the ground.
Whether to acknowledge something or not—he would only decide after personal contact.
Below—
After the SSS-class sandworm suddenly exploded under the psionic pressure from the Mother Insect, so most of the sky was shrouded in a hazy blood mist that lingered without dispersing. The Narga people who had chased after the falling Little Mother Insect came up empty-handed.
Just as they were about to touch that soft, frail body, large patches of pale mycelium churned up from the sand and swallowed the sandworm's flesh fragments while simultaneously wrapping clean, soft filaments around the falling little artificial person.
In those mere tenths of a second, Olovikin—with his elytra closed as he accelerated into a dive—found his fingers just half a centimeter away from Pearl.
He could almost have pulled the completely exhausted Little Mother Insect into his embrace with just a bit more effort, but the mycelium from below was ultimately faster.
Thump!
It was an extremely soft impact sound.
The white-haired youth drifted amidst the swelling mycelium that bloomed like a giant flower, completely engulfed and dragged deep beneath the desert.
The remaining massive crater was bottomless as its destination was unknown.
The StarCloud Hound, a step behind, swung its tail to knock down the pursuing high-level Narga People, then dove headfirst into the abyss.
Almost instantly after the Hound’s pure white mycelium tail vanished into the pit, the still sand began to flow again. In the brief moment the Narga People failed to catch up, the crater filled rapidly, restoring the desert to its silent, motionless state.
Aside from the fallen Beast carcasses nearby, it was as if nothing had ever happened.
Both Olovikin, who had plummeted down, and Ega, who charged in from the side, arrived too late.
As the blood mist of shattered Sandworms dissipated, the Beast Tide once gathered by the King-level Mutated Beast scattered completely. Severed limbs and mangled remains of various creatures littered the ground, the stench of blood thick in the air. Interwoven piles of white bones and shredded flesh turned the area into a living hell.
Olovikin stepped into a pool of blood not yet absorbed by the desert, knelt on one knee, and picked up a handful of sand that had just buried the white mycelium.
The chaotic battle, combined with the final psionic power burst from the Mother Insect, jolted even the most disoriented minds back to consciousness. Ega regained his senses amid the shockwave.
With rationality restored and the erosion from Frenzy Syndrome temporarily receding, participants in this Beast Proving Ground broke free from their restraints, reverting to their human Mimicry forms.
The matte-black towering monster strode step by step toward where the Little Mother Insect had vanished. With each step, his inhuman traits faded gradually.
By the time Ega stood fully beside Olovikin, he had transformed into a tall young man.
Black hair, black pupils, and nearly pale skin gave him the aura of a cold-blooded creature.
As a stalker, Ega moved as silently as a shadow. Had no one witnessed his transformation from monster to human, few would have noticed this tall, faintly present youth.
"...The scent is gone," Ega’s voice was hoarse, as if unaccustomed to speech, and carrying a strange, unpracticed tone.
"What was that?"
The rough, arrogant voice belonged to Xagai.
True to his original form, Xagai’s Mimicry body was tall and long-limbed, built like a warrior—powerful, muscular, and imposing. With dark skin, fiery red hair, and a fierce demeanor, he burned like a flame.
A scar ran across his left eyelid down to the corner of his mouth—a trophy from a past encounter with a King-level Mutated Beast.
Xagai frowned, his naturally fierce expression radiating intensity. "...It feels familiar."
He licked his canine tooth, scooped up a pinch of fine sand, and brought it to his prominent nose before inhaling deeply.
"I’ve definitely smelled this before," he said.
But he couldn’t place it, and the frustration began to gnaw at him.
At that moment, Olovikin and Hui spoke in unison: "It’s the Silver Species."
Hui glanced at his companion and murmured, "It’s him... the War God of ancient times, the Silver Species Chief—Aslan."
The Silver Species, guardians of the Hive Substance, were the most ancient insect race in Narga Empire’s history, nearly coeval with the birth of the Hive Substance itself. Mysterious and archaic, they had vanished centuries ago when the Hive Substance dried up.
Some believed he slumbered in caverns deep beneath the Imperial Star, others thought he severed ties with the Narga and left the empire, while still others claimed he succumbed to Frenzy Syndrome and his psionic power spiraling out of control until he chose to self-destruct on some uninhabited planet...
But no one ever imagined this long-vanished ancient guardian would appear on an Irradiated Wasteland—
A planet specifically designated for Beast trials?
Hui straightened up, his dark blue hair cascading down his back as faint glimmers shifted in his profound eyes while gazing toward the distant sky that were gradually being enveloped by nightfall.
He said, "At least we can confirm for now that Mother... Pearl is safe."
But even if safe, they still needed to find the little one whose very appearance tugged at heartstrings.
Olovikin: "The Titan-class warship will arrive in ten minutes. Using it to scan the planet's subsurface should allow us to track Aslan's location."
It was common knowledge that guardians of Hive Substance favored caverns and dwelled within them.
The advanced Narga People who had descended upon this planet now synchronized their thoughts, emitting similar murmurs through overflowing psionic power—
[Find him.]
[Find our... Mother.]
...
In his dreams, Pearl momentarily couldn't distinguish where he was—
Was it the locked liquid-based living organism culture tank on the auction house's top floor? The cold, cramped warehouse with only a worn-out mat? Or the desolate wasteland where he could see nothing but endless horizons when he looked around.
He felt cold.
Perhaps spiritually, perhaps physically.
Trembling, he sought warmth but found nothing as his fingers and palms brushing only against cool, soft silken strands. Indescribable what they were, but the texture was exquisite, reminding Pearl of the nobles he'd seen at the auction house.
The satin garments they wore probably felt just as smooth.
Pearl also felt hungry.
Ravenously hungry, like when he'd first been returned and the furious manager grabbed his arm before locking him in the pitch-black basement—silent and confined.
No food, and only a bowl of water that he cherished sip by sip, even swallowing becoming a cautious act, accompanying him through hunger and the long night.
...
His muddled mind uncontrollably began recalling past events, though Pearl didn't particularly enjoy reminiscing.
His happy experiences were few and always accompanied by unpleasantness, making recollections bitter and astringent, causing him to furrow his brow involuntarily.
Compounded by the burning sensation coiling in his stomach, the dazed little artificial person curled into himself.
Unconsciously clutching the cool silken strands beside him, he felt utterly uncomfortable and his not-yet-quieted psionic power rampaging through the space like an exuberant calf gone wild.
Though the person appeared soft and timid, his unsoothed psionic energy remained remarkably restless.
In the tranquil space, what seemed like a faint breathy sound emerged.
Perhaps laughter, perhaps a sigh of resignation.
A warm hand gently brushed away the little artificial person's furrowed brow, then clusters of the cool silken strands retreated, replaced by a scorching, substantial embrace.
Rich deep wheat skin flowed with silver-white Insectoid Totems, connected to Mycelium and long hair cascading downward simultaneously, resting against solid pectoral muscles and tracing a hidden contour.
The owner of this deep wheat-colored complexion gathered Pearl's nape and placed the restless little one on his lap before gently stroking the other's pale, dry long hair in a steady rhythm.
Beneath the suddenly elevated body temperature lay firm, powerful muscles. Pearl tilted his head and nuzzled against it, his cool ear pressed tightly against the other's skin, whimpering softly, "So hungry," "So uncomfortable."
Pitiful.
The hand resting on his head paused for a moment, then in the next second, the drowsy little artificial person had his cheek gently pinched as a strand of silvery-white, cool psionic power was injected—
"Good child, eat slowly."
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