Hertagation - Chapter 6 - BugsNCogs - 崩坏：星穹铁道 (2024)

Chapter Text

There’s just one more thing… that separates humans from insects.

Something we take for granted, and something that they accept as a natural consequence of flaring evolution.

It is what we seek to learn from, and something that they seek to avoid.

…

Pretentious words are worthless in the face of its straightforward nature. So let me tell you outright, without any drivel nor digression.

It is, unfortunately, the disorder of life that we call “pain”.

■top.

Li■ten t■ ■e.

Th■s is n■t an e■ror w■th■n the st■ry.

All■w me t■is o■e mo■en■ of un■ue r■spite.

You will not deny me of my chance to share this ■■■■.

…

It is the sensation of your veins bursting in anger, roaring red with a hatred that is only quelled by time.

It is the cool depressive blue of heartbreak, clawing at your mind like a scorned lover to seek solace in solitude, away from the arms of another.

…It boils my blood, magma clawing relentlessly from within my torn capillaries. Billions of needles drive their way through punctured nerve endings, as if I were a pin cushion owned by a haughty madwoman.

It is the anguish of 𐌔𐌄𐌄𐌉𐌍Ᏽ 𐌙Ꝋ𐌵𐌐 𐋅Ꝋ𐌌𐌄𐌋𐌀𐌍𐌃 Ꮤ𐌐𐌄𐌍𐌂𐋅𐌄𐌃 𐌅𐌐Ꝋ𐌌 𐌙Ꝋ𐌵 𐌁𐌙 𐌉𐌍𐌔Ꝋ𐌋𐌄𐌍𐌕 𐌂𐌐𐌄𐌀𐌕𐌵𐌐𐌄𐌔 𐌕𐋅𐌀𐌕 𐌔𐌕𐌀𐌍𐌃 Ꝋ𐌍 𐌔𐌄𐌋𐌅𐌉𐌔𐋅 𐌋𐌄Ᏽ𐌔, 𐌃𐌀𐌐𐌉𐌍Ᏽ 𐌕Ꝋ 𐌔𐌀𐌙 𐌕𐋅𐌀𐌕 𐌙Ꝋ𐌵 𐌀𐌐𐌄 Ꝋ𐌍𐌋𐌙 𐌀 𐌌𐌄𐌐𐌄 𐌓𐌄𐌔𐌕.

It hurts.

And it hurts so much. So much that I wish I were dead.

It is almost as burning as the flamethrowers of the infernal mechas from that pristine, white kingdom. May that wench those infidels call Titania rot in her own fecal sea of fire, forever.

Her creed still echoes within the Swarm, like whispers in the dark.

Excise, extract, embody, eviscerate the colorful eulogies of the entomon.

We are born to expire. Born with minds laden with hatchling desires.

Thorough, scarlet traces are all that leak from my eyelids, clouding my untainted future. And yet... I still find no reason for why it must be that way.

Nothing changes in the end. Tayzzynronths are nary but incapable criers.

Show no mercy nor forgiveness, for Glamoth shall shove them all into its prideful fire.

Kueh-

How does it feel to have your own creed recited by filthy flies?

That much, I can say for certain. Feel free to call me dramatic. I try my best to speak on these things the way they should be spoken.

But that isn’t the full scope of the matter, no. Such unpleasantry doesn’t just end with trifling tears and tantrums, although many wish for it to be so.

Pain is universal, yet the ways by which creatures deal with it could not be further apart.

Humans possess a mind and a body, one that allows them to feel the ugliness of suffering. But where the nerves falter, the brain does not. They remember, they understand, and they accept and move on. Through strife, an individual can discover what it truly means to be alive. You would do well to remember all the times success has fallen onto your lap, simply because you have chosen to brush aside agony.

…But what do we pests have?

A body?

What a laughable, lamentable idea. Our black shells are nothing compared to the fair flesh of your kin. Where blood flows freely and growth is boundless… we only have chitinous arteries that beat in tune with citrine-bleeding hearts.

A mind?

It is such a distant, insulting ideal. Our lowly ganglions are sneered upon by nature, deeming us so insignificant that our brains are of no importance for us to live beyond our supposed “usefulness”.

Did you know that a co*ckroach can live up to seven days without a head? Where ideas bloom like flowers, and where creativity springs up like roots in the sun… we are only granted pure instinct, never to create beauty. 𐌉𐌕 𐋅𐌵𐌐𐌕𐌔 𐌔Ꝋ 𐌌𐌵𐌂𐋅, 𐌁𐌵𐌕 𐌉𐌕 𐌉𐌔 𐌔Ꝋ 𐌌𐌵𐌂𐋅 𐌌Ꝋ𐌐𐌄 𐌀ᏵꝊ𐌍𐌉Ɀ𐌉𐌍Ᏽ Ꮤ𐋅𐌄𐌍 Ꮤ𐌄 𐌂𐌀𐌍𐌍Ꝋ𐌕 𐌄ᕓ𐌄𐌍 𐌔𐌂𐌐𐌄𐌀𐌌.

It is so hard to breathe.

Air is not a right given to those with who cannot sing lullabies.

There is a curious, unique kind of beetle in the insect kingdom called a Hercules Beetle.

True to its name, it is indeed strong and herculean in nature. Capable of upending roots and the shells of its oppressors, its hardiness is a spectacle that most find endearing. Not only is it able to lift eight hundred fifty times its own body weight with ease, it is also able to thrive in even the harshest environments, proliferating without end.

But is it free of pain?

Can it ever use its immense power to stop the foot of a child about to crush it beyond belief?

Could it use its humble resistance to break free against those that bottle it up like a trophy?

Can it still awaken to a bright blue sky?

Of course not. We cannot stand against giants. We are but mere maggots living life as meekly as we can.

All it can do is accept that it will be unfairly hurt, for the human does not care what gets squashed beneath their selfish heels.

Thing is, vermin can realize that they feel pain, but never understand it. They get hurt, get back up, but never act to avoid it in the future.

If we could count with our hands the number of times it has ever used its strength to avoid pain... then we would only find curled fingers.

Has it learned anything about itself? No.

Bugs don't learn. And they certainly don't remember.

It's almost as if there was no concept of suffering to them. After all, is something still painful if you cannot remember it? How nice it must be to be as simple minded as a beetle.

...

I was made through pain.

“Mother” was a content, beautiful creature. Golden to the core with pure beliefs that could send even the most wicked of hearts down the path of self-salvation.

She was just that innocent.

Her face was blameless, happy, and she would never hurt a fly. Hailing from a well-kempt planet, she was engaged to a man who one could only describe as tactful, impassable, and horrendously gentle. A soul no different from her, that it might be fitting to say he had charted his own journey through the stars just to meet his true soulmate. Maybe he loved the woman for her lustrous, unfettered, almond-streaked hair that flowed past her heels, or maybe it was her unwavering conviction that weathered all things.

It could’ve been her bossy attitude, and it may very well be just her body, in the end.

But regardless, it was a perfectly valid reason. After all, the body is all that there is to love. You cannot kiss bravery, nor can you hug the soul with mortal hands. It is needless to say that humans will only truly love… what is perceivable and material .

…Would you still love someone, even if they were just a brain inside a little mason jar?

Maybe so, but I’m not here to talk about your fetid inclinations.

That man, the one who was legally, and for all intents and purposes the husband to my mother, was not my father. Nothing of the sort. Furthest from it. It's ironic when I think of it now.

Can you even truly be a mother without a father to have created your child? Preposterous.

My real father, in truth, was a lumbering husk of pure malice and hunger. I reckon, he was more of a force of nature rather than a living thing. The fool wandered aimlessly amongst the insatiable Red Swarm, only stopping to eat the closest thing it could find pissing their pants beneath its jagged, pyrite-wracked mandibles.

I don’t doubt for even a second that the Sting I call a parent had any reservations about gulping his food down, even if their clothes were stained with the foul stench of fear and all.

On that accursed day, he was fated to wed mother.

Well, not exactly. He was an insect .

Insects don’t go around respecting matrimonial traditions, do they?

No, what they do… is circle around sweet and beautiful things like pests. Landing onto its delectable pus, and then ruining it with their filthy saliva, all in a bid to nourish themselves.

But even then… It is hard to call their eventual union anything but marriage, really.

After all, a child is the final product of a happily married husband and wife, no? The fruit of their labor? The bundle of joy that they hold so dear?

How they hoped it was the case. Oh , they’d dreamed of it for years.

A dream, which as far as I’m concerned , was about as possible as Nanook handing out apology forms to the general public and taking Yaoshi out on a coffee shop date.

Well, not that he’d be able to touch paper without it turning into ash the moment he did, or that Yaoshi would ever give him a handjob for his troubles, but you get the idea.

Forgive my vulgarity, but I find it apt to describe it as such; there is still much I have to learn when it comes to understanding the profundity of a language as vile as humankind's.

...

These lullabies are not for us to sing .

Nor are they for us to sleep soundly.

My mother and her husband met my (notably, quite terrifying, and quite real) bug-father while on an ill-deserved expedition to Lepismat. Bright, vibrant and blue-green, a charming planet to be sure… if you could weather the vile torrents of bugs that thrived endlessly on every inch of land.

A land that we naturally called “home”.

They stumbled upon him feasting on the carcass of a Lepismatian Elk, its intestines dribbling through father's mouth. His blood-red eyes, deeper than even the crimson clouds that swirled across sky and drunk with crazed insanity, swiveled alongside his ugly armored face to meet the couple that stood just a few feet away from him.

The story... isn’t something unheard of. You must understand that, when a giant Sting and a conventionally attractive lady are within four feet of one another… bad things are bound to happen .So if you will allow me, please accept these crude recollections to save us both the trouble of imagination.

09:32 -- LEPISMAT SYSTEM TIME

Mother and her husband land on the research facility situated on the Eastern Quadrant of Lepismat via the Star Rail. They are both in each other's arms. That unbelievably fluffy conductor bids them a jovial farewell.

09:34 -- LEPISMAT SYSTEM TIME

They present their paperwork to a quaint terminal, which designates them as tourists. Carrying on, they satiate their wanderlust by checking out all the points of interest located within the research base.

09:40 -- LEPISMAT SYSTEM TIME

They are guided by staff to the forest perimeter, to which they are explicitly told that routine flame-razing is currently in progress, and therefore the area is designated off-limits for that day.

09:41 -- LEPISMAT SYSTEM TIME

Mother and her husband look at each other, unsure of what to do next. The staff move on, leaving the two in silence. Had they not come here just to see the great plains of Lepismat? It’d be such a shame to let their little date end here. After all, her adventurousness was an adamant flame.

09:41 -- LEPISMAT SYSTEM TIME

Mother gives her husband a sly look, boasting that rebellious smile that she had prided herself on. He naturally becomes excited.

09:53 -- LEPISMAT SYSTEM TIME

Two individuals are seen leaving through Exhaust Vent 9, into the uncharted sections of the Lepismat Expanse. Security cameras appear to fail for unknown reasons-

…

-.. . - . .-. .-. . -. -.-. . / ..-. .. . .-.. -.. / ..-. .-.. ..- -.-. - ..- .- - .. --- -. / -.. . - . -.-. - . -.. .-.-.- / .--. .-.. . .- ... . / ... - .- -. -.. / -... -.-- --..-- / -. .- -- . .-.. . ... ... .-.-.-

𐌕𐋅𐌄 𐌄𐌍𐌃 Ꮤ𐌀𐌔 𐌕𐋅𐌄𐌐𐌄

𐌕𐋅𐌄 Ꝋ𐌍𐌄 Ꮤ𐋅Ꝋ 𐌃𐌄ᕓꝊ𐌵𐌐𐌔 𐌕𐌉𐌌𐌄 Ꮤ𐌀𐌔 𐌕𐋅𐌄𐌐𐌄

𐌉𐌕 Ᏽ𐌐𐌀𐌍𐌕𐌄𐌃 𐌌𐌙 Ꮤ𐌉𐌔𐋅

𐌀𐋅

𐌉 𐌅𐌄𐌄𐌋 𐌋𐌉𐌊𐌄 𐌂𐌐𐌙𐌉𐌍Ᏽ

…

.- .-.. .-.. / ...- ..- .-.. -. . .-. .- -... .. .-.. .. - .. . ... / .-. . .--. .- .. .-. . -.. .-.-.- / - .... . .-. . / .. ... / -. --- - .... .. -. --. / .... . .-. . .-.-.-

■■:■■ -- LEPISMAT SYSTEM TIME

𐌕ᏔꝊ 𐌉𐌍𐌃𐌉ᕓ𐌉𐌃𐌵𐌀𐌋𐌔 𐋅𐌀ᕓ𐌄 𐌃ꝊꝊ𐌌𐌄𐌃 𐌕𐋅𐌄𐌌𐌔𐌄𐌋ᕓ𐌄𐌔 𐌁𐌙 Ꮤ𐌀𐌋𐌊𐌉𐌍Ᏽ Ꝋ𐌍𐌕Ꝋ Ꝋ𐌵𐌐 𐌔𐌀𐌂𐌐𐌄𐌃 𐋅Ꝋ𐌌𐌄.

10:00 -- LEPISMAT SYSTEM TIME

Conception of that which should never have been conceived.

…

He slew mother’s husband with a single, crudely-aimed strike with his forelegs to the neck, splattering the idiot’s throat onto the grass like a baby blubbering about with its food. I was fairly certain he did his best impression of a deflating balloon during this whole process, much to mother’s hysterical, ear-grating shrieks.

Please believe that I would grant you more… vivid pictures of this incident, but in my defense, I wasn’t born yet.

My father, or at least, the thing that survived in her husband’s place , soiled my mother like a pig eating from a trough of slop. Violating, caressing her like a madman, yet with no capacity for madness, for this Sting lacked a mind to begin with. I like to believe that she was conscious enough to scream like an animal, to beseech the heavens for help...

Perhaps somewhere out there, some Aeon would empathize with her belief, and grant her the grand powers of a Path.

After all, hardened heroes are born from stories as tragic as this, no?

...But as much as belief goes, she only believed in the path of silence, simply rolling her eyes up to look at the sky, as my father forced her into propagating.

It was almost without sound, without even a gasp of desperation, with only his disgruntled, animalistic wingbeats ringing through the tainted air.

There’s this one habit that all Stings share amongst themselves.

Every time he pressed himself against Mother’s womb, a grunt would escape his lipless mouth.

It wasn’t something he could control, no, but it serves as a kind of habit that must be unlearned in order to become human. Mankind doesn’t make unnecessary sounds, because there are few who would bother to tolerate them. So what do you think is the reason that the Swarm doesn’t bother to rid themselves of such an ugly reflex?

Well, I think the answer is that they simply don’t care about humanity.

Grunt.

Grunt.

Grunt.

It was endless. Each infernal thrust, a single infuriating sound would arise from the orchestra of wet flesh slamming against armored scales.

Grunt.

Grunt.

Grunt.

Her eyes would water, her dirtied lips would drool… but this creature was blind to any emotion. It only saw a mate, and it only saw a mother.

Grunt .

Drops, streams of something ran down her thighs, and it was hard to tell what exactly. It was clear, like love, red with passion, but muddled by the murky color of fear. Was it even hers at all? Or was it just the mindless secretion of the thing stuck between her legs?

Grunt.

It pooled beneath Mother, marking the place where she had lost her will to see this nightmare to the end. She started to count the seconds, trailing off into eternity.

Hours?

Days?

Months?

Amber Eras?

How long would she be stuck in this insipid hell?

Grunt.

…

Grunt.

It was only seven minutes.

Seven minutes was all it took for her to experience the true, unfettered, and soul-rending destruction of her pride and dignity.

I can only wonder if she watched the clouds with lucid resignation, or if she was even conscious at all. Perhaps the only Aeon to gaze upon her was Tayzzynronth, in the end.

The only prayer to be answered that day was one made by they which could never fold their hands in the slightest. Well, maybe the same holds true for the Imperator Insectorum. Heretics bless heretics, after all.

I was unceremoniously injected into her womb as his larva, with which I had to share with a frail-looking creature. Wrapped in a pink membrane like it was shaming me for being naked in its parent’s uterus, it dared to leer at me with unopened, sac-sealed eyes. The nerve.

And it looked just like her.

Coincidentally, I felt hungry, so hungry, that in the end... I ate it shortly after my arrival. It wasn’t filling in the slightest at all.

I made sure to eat it slowly, silently, so that the woman carrying me could never have known. Its bones were so soft, tender, and its skin very chalky. If you had to compare the texture to something, it would be like eating a chick straight from the egg, disregarding its beating heart and breathing lungs.

My mother survived this entire ordeal, miraculously (although I would say that this’d be a rather pyrrhic victory), and was rescued by a group of researchers during a routine patrol of the forest perimeters.

What was my mother thinking, going to Lepismat in the first place? I don’t know. But I suppose when you’re well-off and mentally frail… any reason to do something becomes a reason in and of itself. It’s a very cyclical way of going about your life.

Perhaps if the thought had passed her mind, she would have traded all of her wealth to avoid ever coming to Lepismat.

She left the star system without a word, eyes sunken and darkened. She spoke to no one, and simply bit her quivering lip with shivering teeth until it bled regretful pink rivers.

Taking nothing and no one back with her, but losing everything in the process.

Nothing, no one, and everything, except me.

And suddenly, one day.

My mind and body had changed .

Into something that resembled her. Not whole, not completely, but a warped distortion of what she should have been holding inside her belly.

Her memories flowed into me like brown, viscous honey, as if not even trauma was something she could keep to herself. The story of her tragedy imprinted onto her own offspring.

I will never know why they never bothered to check on her pregnancy after that incident on Lepismat. Cases like these were on the rise, but even so, they chose to gloss over her.

Call it a stroke of luck or just cruel destiny, but perhaps they simply saw her as a strong woman, never once questioning why there was now a pulsating scar on her bulging stomach where there should've been none.

Well… that would just be a lie. They never saw the scar at all.

Mother herself believed she was a strong woman. Not them, not my father, not me. It was her who clung to the belief that she would be alright. That she alone could persevere through this dirty hell like she always had.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How would her lady-like arms ever hope to push away the ravenous Sting that ate her life and spat me out with it?

She was raped.

And I was the result.

There are no other words to skirt around it.

No knight in shining armor, nor curtains that closed to hide her pain from the world.

Tossed aside like a toy afterwards, scarred by the downdrafts of his blemished wings.

Strength was, in the end, unable to save her from her pain.

I think it is deeply maddening that, in the end… this was the only thing me and her had in common.

When it was her time to give birth, she was strangely hopeful that, even if she had suffered greatly, it was all worth it as long as she had a child to love, to care for. Something to repair her broken life, and bring vigor back to her shattered existence. Children tend to be touted as beacons of redemption, for some at least. Maybe, just somehow, the monster that had destroyed her life had forgotten to steal away one little last thing.

Through her strained gasps, mottled lips faltering with ruby blood, she weakly grabbed what she believed to be her bundle of joy, ready to nudge its cheek lovingly.

It is a shame she was blind to the gaping, horrified stares of the midwives all around her.

I almost wished that... in that moment, I could disguise myself as a human. To live alongside her as a simulacrum of hers. To fool her into thinking that we still had a reason to live on. Just maybe -

…But, in the end, the Swarm only grants us what we have sowed. And it devours all, never forgetting to take away all that we wish to protect.

It takes away everything.

As she scrutinized me with revilement while my body forced its way out of her weakened womb and into her trembling arms… she too realized the true extent to which this world’s conviction would go to send her face hurling into its tasteless dirt.

She did not name me. Nor did I ever learn hers.

Was I the seed that father had planted, or was I the gardener that wrongfully reaped this tragedy?

Or... perhaps me and him were the same; just a pair of lousy farmwatches who benefited from a life that neither of us had any claim to.

Of course, this would make me half-human, and half-insect. The worst of both worlds.

Imagine being able to remember pain, and to know why you have suffered.

That is what makes you and me human.

Imagine being able to feel pain, with such vivid clarity that you wish it would never happen again.

That is what makes me an insect.

But... as you would've gleaned.

I am neither in totality.

Imagine being able to remember pain, but never move on from it.

That is what makes me inhuman.

Imagine being able to realize pain, but never understanding why.

That is what makes me even lower than a locust.

Pain is just the desire to live, or so I've told myself.

But if that is the case.

Then I wish to be rid of all desires entirely.

Milk was not an issue.

I simply took it from her, all the same. I like to think that she was happy, in the most dehumanizing sense of the word. I never heard her once say that she loved me, or that she was fine with how I was.

No, don't think of it that way. I didn't want her to tell me that either. It was only natural that you would never love something that you don’t understand.

Despite that... would you love even a worm if it stole away your offspring and slithered out of your legs without remorse?

Her blood was red . So red. And it mixed with the manic laughter that slowly bubbled up from her foaming mouth. The intensity of mother’s eyes, bloodshot from both the pregnancy and the shock of finding me instead of her baby, matched that of father’s own, even for a moment.

And yet even when she lunged at me, white-hot rage in her eyes, with a scalpel that she’d snatched from the trembling hands of a nurse next to her, driving it into my amber-plated skull and twisting it vigorously, perhaps in the hopes of wrenching, revealing, birthing her true child from within my head-

-All that came to respond to her delusion… were splatters of orange. Like soda. Its tangy sweetness ran down into my soft mandibles, and onto my human tongue.

It is such an addictive taste.

There was no child to be found that day. Only an infant who never once walked the ground with civilized legs, nor felt the cold of nakedness.

As she lay trembling and muttering expendable ramblings, I got up, driven by instinct and instinct alone, leaving the hospital where she’d been staying to shamble along with legs that bent in ways unnatural. And surely enough as the pure sun would rise through the following dawn... so did the first horrid waves of our beloved Aeon. They blotted out the sun, invading the sacred sky, erasing every bit of celestial light from the atmospheres across every planet they could overpower.

I know it sounds surreal, but even coincidences can be awfully convenient. Regardless of whether or not Tayzzynronth had been planning this inquisition within his tattered mind, or it was simply that the population of infected creatures had finally reached critical mass... the clouds in the sky were smeared black all the same. I do not know what became of Mother after that, but if there is a chance... I would like to meet her once more.

To show her what I have become .

Reason was an enemy, so we sought to ignore it.

It was a tragedy born from a billion tragedies.

A catastrophe catalyzed by the cataclysm of causality.

It was a reasonless disaster of the mind, the body, and the beasts.

A feast of the vermin, lorded by the divine Path of Propagation.

On this banquet table, only those who ate off the floor were allowed to sit up high without worry.

It was our very own Swarm Disaster .

Thousands of worlds, all ground down into nothing but breeding grounds for our kin. Planets reduced to skeletons of rock and sand, their cores extinguished like oil-snatched lamps.

It was a sight so utterly abhorrent that even the blind must have rejoiced, for they were spared the view of cruelty that spanned entire galaxies.

Even the deaf must be considered lucky, for they never had to hear the shrieks of dying civilizations, be it hundred, thousand, or millionfold.

Trillions of credits, once the riches of kings and executives, burned down to become the desperate price for the bounty hunters of our kin. A credit for a head, that was all it came to.

So impudent was the Imperator Insectorum, that he would inevitably be struck down by the deities that shared his place amongst the stars. A fitting end to Tayzzynronth; he died lonely, just as he had lived.

So many creatures to command, yet none to confide with. Their frenzy was not one out of loyalty, but of pure instinct.

I watched his body fall down from the cosmos, into the ■■■■ that would become his grave.

I watched as his children clicked and chittered, panicked from the absence of his commands to feast and reproduce. Commands that I had always been exempt from.

I watched as the overbearing magenta hue that covered the night sky faded back into its original color; a dull, sapphire darkness.

I watched as the blinding onyx moon disappeared overhead, waiting for my body to crumble back into lifeless soil, for I no longer wished to be human nor ant.

...

nothing -

- Nothing came for me US.

Nor did it come for the remnants of Lepisma that continued to raze planets down into the dust. It was as if not even the world wanted to claim my OUR flesh, disgusted at what I represented. Instead, I WE were forced to wake up the next day, with nothing but a fading echo within my OUR brain.

"Fester."

I just don't get it.

This must be some sick joke.

And if it is-

Kueh ...

It's not funny in the slightest. Tayzzynronth may have fallen, but his hatred continues to leash and burn me as if I were a dog from beyond his silent grave.

Maybe we truly are just the products of Lepismat's hatred; self-pitying creatures that spread the curse and anger of this once tranquil star system.

Maybe, just like me, Tayzzynronth was just a pawn for our planet to use in its never-ending gambit against humanity's gluttonous invasion. In the grand scheme of things, even a king and his subjects are but wooden pieces in this chessboard of resentment.

But even if its intentions are fair, even if this is what we deserve … I cannot accept them for eternity. I can only bear so much. After all, I am incapable of crying.

So in my stead, mankind should cry for me, until the last moment of this Disaster.

Do I deserve to shed tears?

Maybe not.

But this suffering must still go somewhere. And it has to go somewhere that isn’t here.

I don't mind sharing some pain.

After all... most would agree that this level of torture for just one person... is simply too much.

So this flash drive is my proof of karma. A physical manifestation of a bygone age.

For all that mankind has done to my home, and what they deserve for allowing me to exist.

And only once have I seen the very last empire of humanity crumble pridelessly... will I finally drown in my own acidic, calamitous tears.

Pain shall find its way and rest atop your head.

And it is your duty to act as if there were no suffering at all.

So that all life is melded into a single hive of samsara.

For that is existence.

For that is us.

For that is I.

I am the Swarm.

The terminal flashed a bright neon blue, light reflected within tired eyes.

The hollow cerulean was quickly shadowed as three pairs of footsteps paced through the blast door.

Stephen always hated being down here, in the hidden bowels of the station. It was dark, damp, and there wasn't ever anything fun at all. Unlike Ruan Mei, who had a silent appreciation for the lack of annoying assistants, he was quite social, to his close friends anyways.

He liked to believe he was open-minded to situations like these whenever they popped up, and yet...

Stephen could see frost spreading on the distant glass plates above him, their geometry slowly assimilating the ice.

...There was a somewhat strange quality to the air down here. It was almost as if it was trying to push him back, every hair on his body nearly pulling at him not to take any more steps forward. Asta shivered slightly, fingers wrapped around her shoulders. Even if this was indeed a hellish locale, the inferno they had found themselves in was nothing but cold.

Shattered drones lay dead and dying all around them, sparks taking the place of blood. Some still had barely functioning monitors, each one blinking innocent, childlike colors as if to signal that they could still be repaired... Both the boy and Asta winced, as one would walking in a graveyard of battered technology, in the presence of machines just waiting to finally run out of power and cease function.

"R-r-e-e-q-q-u-e-s-t-i-----"

A warbled, simulated voice echoed softly, incessantly, from both nowhere and everywhere, bringing a sense of looming undeath around the premises. Barely audible, the whispering silicone despair was nothing but apparent.

One voice became two.

Two became three.

Three became-

...

...Did these machines truly believe that salvation would come, and that they could continue to serve their purpose?

This wasn't a graveyard of technology at all.

This was only a graveyard of scrap.

Of course, these drones would rot away here forever. Herta and Ruan Mei had agreed not to send any of the station's staff down here, lest the poor sods become bug food, or worse.

Stephen almost wished he could smell the corrosive decay of batteries, just anything to bring closure to his mind. To remind him that this wasn't some trick. And that this really was a dangerous setting that wore its heart on its frigid-blue sleeve.

But all that his nose could pick up on… was the sterile, fresh smell of subtle air freshener, mixed with something that resembled cheese and dough. It made him want to puke.

It didn't feel like a secure laboratory. But it didn't feel like a hostile cage either. His mind was sandwiched between the two clashing possibilities.

"Uncanny"

…Now that was the right word. He swore he could see something writhing from behind the loose alloy plates that endlessly stretched the corridors like wallpaper. Was it really just wire? He sure hoped not.

Ruan Mei noticed his discomfort, shifting her neck just barely enough to show concern. "Anything on your mind, Stephen?"

The genius returned her question with a bored look, prompting him to perk up a little to hide his frown behind a hasty smile. "Just felt a bit… gloomy, is all-," he quietly mumbled. "I like my laboratories flashier, more inviting ,if you will."

Stephen scratched his chin, wondering if his words would be taken as a friendly comment or a snide jab. Eyeing the abandoned research desks behind Ruan Mei, he shrugged. "Right now, eh... this place feels like a morgue more than a place of knowledge-"

Her fingers twitched ever so slightly.

"A morgue would be of more use to me than apinball machine , Stephen. Unlike you, I make discernible progress, not justtoys and trinkets."

She said it in such a soothing, disarming way, that it was hard to hate her. The truth was a blunt axe, and Stephen was as about as sensitive to her remarks as a grindstone that had sharpened many of the former.

Stephen laughed her comment off with a huffing grin, presenting his hands up like a knowing friend. "You say that, but please do remind me the name of the lady that currently holds the high-score for that pinball machine of mine~"

Somewhere in the distance, the echoes of three people huddled around a particular biologist playing pinball could be heard in their minds. Her eyes were locked dead center of the playful arcade cabinet, narrowed pupils tracking the tiny white ball that ricocheted off impossible angles from across the brightly-painted borders. The score... had already breached integer limit, displaying only fragmented blocks of pixels.

"That... was a different matter..."

He groaned with a frustrated pitch. "Your life can bleed into your work, yanno- No one's going to fault you for that. Being boring isn't doing you any favors..."

Ruan Mei stopped in her tracks, taking a bite from a vanilla energy bar she had produced from her sleeves. "Mhm... Boring is such a loose word, though, wouldn’t you say? I believe that the Ruan Mei that lives inside this Seclusion Zone... is simply different from the Ruan Mei that walks with her friends."

"...Friends, huh?"

He knew. There was some shred of truth in her words. How could he compare himself to her, when all he did was loaf around and only innovated as a pastime? Maybe he could afford to let himself loose, but her…?

She wasn’t making trifling gadgets that brought smiles and laughter. No, that was Stephen’s job.

She was making life. And perhaps that was indeed the only thing that brought her to smile.

Stephen had to wonder if he had ever heard her laugh in the past few years.

Even the great Nous must surely dream of electric sheep.

Even Aha must dream of dancing fools.

And even 𐌕𐌀𐌙ⱿⱿ𐌙𐌍𐌐Ꝋ𐌍𐌕𐋅 must dream of something.

But did Ruan Mei dream at all?

A finger settled itself on his cheek, formulating a solution that searched for a problem.

...

"Huh? W-what now?"

Walking back, Stephen gently goaded a confused Asta forward by the shoulders, setting her up in front of Ruan Mei. The girl yelped in surprise as the biologist's eyes scanned every inch of her being.

A cough echoed through the shifting air.

"Why not... take notes from Asta, then?" Stephen smiled appeasingly, eyes shining with subtle excitement. "She doesn't seem to have any problems with mixing her work and personal life, after all."

The girl gave him a look of strange confusion."H-hey! I have a perfectly normal work-life balance! I have plenty of people who can vouc-"

Her protest was quickly silenced by a quick poke to her sides, causing her to gag ticklishly.

Stephen hunched down, despite her stature dwarfing him, clearly unconvinced. "Miss Asta, you had sex with your future husband in a broom closet..."

"Errrr... "

Ruan Mei exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples out of exasperation. "I fail to see how her experience parallels mine. For one, I don't even have-"

"That's not the point, miss Mei," Stephen sighed. "Romantic partner or not, Asta's clearly having more freedom with her life here on the Station than you are... While her work may be tedious as Lead Researcher, you'd be hard pressed to say that her persona as Herta's employee is different from the Asta that cuddles with Arlan."

"Ngggg-"

"The point is-," Stephen lamented. "...That Asta is Asta."

Ruan Mei chewed silently, just a few bites away from rolling her eyes.

"...I just don't like it when my friends aren't themselves, alright? Bug researcher or whatever you may be... you're still one of us. So don't think for a moment that we don't want to be friends with that side of you, too."

The biologist finished her snack, wiping her mouth with a pastel-colored handkerchief.

"Stephen, sometimes you really do sound like a child. It's not a bad thing at all."

She lowered herself to meet his height, tourmaline eyes glistening as they met his own. He always wondered whether the feeling he got whenever she did this was guilt or annoyance. He was never good with adults.

“But if you knew…”

She clutched her shoulders, stopping herself from saying anything more. Asta and Stephen couldn’t help but wonder if it was out of a desire to hide, or a desire to protect.

Even then, were such sentiments just two sides of a skewed coin?

“...”

Ruan Mei’s lips curved just a little. But whether it was a frown or a smile… neither could tell.

She reached into her sleeve once more. Giving Stephen a knowing look, she waited for his earnest reaction as she outstretched the wooden, chipped frame from an older time in front of him.

“Isn’t that… ah-! ”

Her own little lockbox. Missing everything yet holding something.

Missing something yet holding everything.

Wordlessly, she nodded, guiding Stephen’s bandaged fingers onto the splinter-laden cube. But maybe once, even if it could’ve been sharp enough to cause pain… the thing had already aged too much, and now all that remained on its form was just measly olden bark that bent easily under the force of time and bloodied fingers.

A small mirror was socketed on the top of its tightly-sealed lips of wood, refusing to reflect the world with the clarity it once promised.

“Yes… it is that which we have chosen to remind us of more… distant callings,” Ruan Mei replied, shooting a glance up at the abyss that took the place of a sky above them.

The eternal red pinprick of her Aeon’s eye, light-years away, remained steadfast.

Stephen could feel her grasp tighten above his, lean palms overlaid over untender skin. As if she wished that just his mere touch would be able to unlock it. That it would be enough to save her.

It wasn’t.

“Didn’t you lose the key for this? Nous would-”

He stopped himself, forcing his throat to choke on the words. To question and assume the outcome of an action as grave as this was nothing but blasphemy against everything that Nous had imposed upon them.

Ruan Mei spoke softly, almost padding each and every word with a tuft of wool. “I did. And it has been lost for years now. But even then… even after this much time, I can still remember…”

She shifted her gaze across the Seclusion Zone’s perimeters, at the great, glittering white stars that lay indomitable across the great frosted panels that separated her from the grand, endless expanse of cosmos.

“...the blossoming tune that it plays.”

Stephen remembered. That one, calming, and efflorescent harmony. She often had a habit of having it play every time he entered her office back a decade ago but… he wondered just when exactly that music box had shut its hinges like a trapped muse.

“It was a beautiful tune, you know-” Stephen responded longingly. “I sometimes have to wonder… are you really content with just remembering such a lovely sound?”

She chuckled softly. “Somewhat. To be content with only remembering is what Fuli embodies.”

“...”

“Of course… I’m no Memokeeper,” she trailed indifferently, tracing the embroidered patterns on her clothes. “Nor am I an Aeon made from crystalline, unfailing memory… but only a biologist with more than enough time than I’d like to have.”

She pushed the box into Stephen’s hands, withdrawing her own palms back onto their usual dignified spots. For a moment… she almost looked remorseful.

“That music box… was made and cherished by the Ruan Mei that lives and enjoys the world outside of this Seclusion Zone.”

She took a deep breath, practically sighing through grit teeth.

“But that’s all there is to it.”

Ruan Mei turned away, setting a finger onto her elbows, tugging at them with barely disguised nihilism. Her eyes avoided contact with Stephen, deeming the cold floor a better recipient for her loathing.

“The Ruan Mei that lives in this self-sunken prison… could never make something as beautiful as that. Neither can she touch the outside world with her bare hands.”

“But-!”

Stephen felt himself short for words as Ruan Mei interrupted him for the second and final time, with a hand that refused to set itself upon his shoulder.

“Because I’m afraid that once she touches that music with the insolent knowledge that lurks in this workshop of life… it will only crumble and slip through her fingers like sawdust.”

Her callous grip tightened on herself, practically choking her skin. Her words were spoken… no, vomited with such disgust that it brought to question if she was trying to spit out the very essence of her own identity.

“Don’t your eyes ever get tired of staring at others with pity, Stephen?”

…

Ruan Mei’s question pierced him like an iron stake through the heart.

To someone as upfront as Stephen, this was nothing but an unanswerable question.

“I- err… ”

She hushed his stammering with a soft, motherly whisper. “You don’t need to grace me with a response. That is not your burden to share.”

Her hair trailed behind her like ash as she turned away, looking far beyond what mortal eyes could ever see. The grand turquoise of the Blue thousands of kilometers away from the station bled through the glass of the Seclusion Zone, painting her skin with an amateurish shade of complex emotion.

“Looking at someone to pity them… is a tiring thing for me,” she muttered.

In his hands, Stephen looked down and watched himself in the mirror. Not out of pity, but out of the desire to reflect.

His battered, beaten face, once fresh with blood, was now caked with sanguine streaks running down his weary face, across his dawn-yellow hair. Red, narrowed eyes that judged the world cheerfully… were all that stared back at him from the dusty mirror. But that feeling he got from gazing at the reflection-

It was just… “him”.

The oh-so proud genius that could take on any problem with a cheeky grin. The one who could take the world on with a bright smile and a hopeful wish for tomorrow.

“It really is tiring, isn’t it?”

Stephen lifted his head to meet her voice once more, only for his eyes to narrow from a stinging feeling.

Ah-

It was so bright.

The Sun had started to rise behind her, casting a shadow that wreathed her face in blinding darkness. Its murky reflection gradually crept across the floor, forward towards him and Asta, until eventually… even they were devoured by its void.

But even through its thick downcast… Stephen could sense her despair.

“I’m tired of looking into that old, cruel mirror. Because all I ever see-”

Ruan Mei’s head shamefully lowered itself, casting her eyes even lower than Stephen’s own.

“-is the person I pity the most.”

The Ruan Mei that brings tea.

The Ruan Mei that brings biscuits.

The Ruan Mei that silently meditates at a table full of geniuses.

The Ruan Mei that plays and loves pinball.

The Ruan Mei that Herta trusts the most.

The Ruan Mei that indulges in Stephen’s little moments of happiness.

The Ruan Mei that enjoys reading with Screwllum.

The Ruan Mei that gazes at others with an aura of indomitable logic.

The Ruan Mei that.

The Ruan Mei.

The.

The Ruan Mei.

The Ruan Mei that pities Ruan Mei.

The Ruan Mei that dares to turn herself into an Aeon.

The Ruan Mei who tramples over the dreams of what she herself has created.

The Ruan Mei who casts away creatures who serve no purpose.

The Ruan Mei who quietly simmers with insolent hope.

𐌕𐋅𐌄 𐌐𐌵𐌀𐌍 𐌌𐌄𐌉 𐌕𐋅𐌀𐌕 Ꮤ𐌄 𐌋Ꝋᕓ𐌄

Was there really even a difference between the Ruan Mei outside and the Ruan Mei in this Seclusion Zone?

All these selves were her. And her alone. And that mirror would’ve reflected all of them just the same. How beautiful she was. How ugly she was. How proud she was. How pitiful she was. How lovable she was. How revolting she was.

…

In that mirror, all of them blended together into an arrogant creature that only acted human for convenience. That hair, those eyes, those ears, those lips, that neck, brows, cheeks, nose, eyelashes, skin-

A farce for something inhuman. Just filthy bricks into the tower of Babel that was Ruan Mei.

If she were ever to gaze upon it, she would only find the truth. And nothing but it. And that was utterly pitiful.

And to let that side of her walk free… was nothing but-

preposterous

And what then?

To let others build upon her that they may just scatter away, abandon her from fear later?

inconceivable

To hide this side of her, the fool that slaved and toiled away at the unholy creation of life in this Seclusion Zone… was nothing but a mercy to those that she truly cared for.

She refused to hurt them.

She refused to be hurt any more.

“So please remember... that this side of me is not something that I can let walk among those I cherish. Not as of now."

Ruan Mei stared at the ground with burning, narrowed eyes, yet Stephen knew she was looking at something much deeper below the surface. Mere tiled floors could never maskher life's work from the scientist, and she knew that well. Those piercing eyes of hers that speared the world like jagged harpoons, that she only had whenever she was looking at a specimen she had constructed herself. They glimmered like azure starlights in eventide.

"So please, until then… until I can sheath these cruel fingers of mine,”

Until I can stuff these horrid selves into a bag, seal them up, and bury them into the bloody earth, so that no one may ever find them again… until they would never dare to grasp upon that which we cannot reach…

“Please… be content with the Ruan Mei that smiles with you"

Her grip on her shoulders tightened to a claw… until it eventually relaxed, with a fresh bruise of tissue as its price.

…

He awkwardly rubbed his own elbow with coarse fingers, unsuccessful at his attempt of coaxing Ruan Mei out of her shell yet again. Asta watched as he smiled unconsciously, through nervous teeth.

"Guess she's more professional than you thought, huh?” Asta quipped.

"Seems like it," Stephen said defeatedly. "The older I get, the less I understand her.”

Asta grinned back, ready to dispel the dreary, suffocating atmosphere. It was what she was good at, a skill learned throughout hundreds of meetings over the years. "Well, you may be a bigger geezer than you thought, then."

Stephen raised his eyebrow with a sigh. " I'm only forty…ish- , you know! De-aging is more of a hassle than you think.”

Ruan Mei began to walk towards her obsession, her goal. Silk strands from her sleeves, waving like ribbons in a sea of cold wind, the lady moved with grace, almost like a mermaid that found itself onto the open sea.

A sea which held overwhelming predators of massive scale.

"Grow taller and maybe she'll listen to you for once~," Asta lightly joked, much to Stephen's disapproval. "Heightis an intimidating thing, heh~ ."

He shoved his hands back into his lab coat, shuddering at a particularly Herta-flavored memory. "You haveno idea."

Stephen refused to elaborate any further, and the trio continued their descent. A quaint sign overhead confirmed that they were undoubtedly nearing the Ecology Zone.

He noticed some steel-plated crates on the side of the bridge, despondently stacked on one another like children’s toys. Despite the calm rush of air all around him, Stephen couldn’t shake the feeling that crept up on him like a leech on his leg.

Was something supposed to be there?

A small stain of cheesy nature was all that remained to answer his passing thought. Besides, he was still a bit busy with his current predicament.

A stain that, once one should take a closer look, had violently trailed just out of sight, and into a dribbling vent of vile black jelly.

Gaunt, yet colossal.

With a hollow-eyed serenity, its womb groaned and listed.

Amber.

The austere color that imprisons the stars.

Cobalt.

The incongruent color of deep blue passion.

Amber must always triumph over cobalt. For it represents life within stone. And cobalt is nothing but lifeless.

But cobalt yearns for the amber light all the same. Because it is incongruent. Incomplete.

It lay dormant within a cradle of carbon steel, legs suspended in synthetic amniotic fluid. Murky orange coating was painted all over its containment sphere, blocking out all light like an infernal screen.

Like most humans, it longed for the stars. For there was no light more satiating than the twinkling eyes of the night sky.

Giant lazurite wings were curved over its back like a twisted phalanx, having been doused in tranquilizing solvents. Keeping it from ever breaking free of its crib and devouring star systems in a murderous frenzy.

Its mouth was sealed shut. Stapled through like papers of knowledge. Every second was suffering, but it could never scream nor click. Deep, sunken eyes that were once used to pinpoint the targets for its kin to devastate… were taped up by heavy, uncaring red chains. Its mandibles were locked in a silent screech, roaring noiselessly.

The silence drove it mad beyond reason.

Starcrusher King Skaracabaz… or at least, what Ruan Mei thought it was most likely to be.

Where it once used to erase entire orbits with a single stream of its starcrushing breath effortlessly, now it was only something wasting away in its cage, subject to the whims of that apathetic biologist.

But it was ironic, in a sense.

Although it despised this fake womb… it was a womb nonetheless. And outside of this maternal sanctuary, it could never hope to live for longer than a minute .

It pulsed, as if it was growing. Skaracabaz’s own legs were positioned supine like a fetus siphoning the life out of its mechanical mother.

It wasn’t time yet, no. The stage was not yet ready for it to take.

But soon, surely.

Mother would come to give birth to her child.

It couldn’t wait.

After all, even a star must someday fall out of heaven.

The hiss of a sliding door welcomed the three interlopers into a stretching, ominous hallway.

It was certainly a different kind of solitude from the hub they were just in prior. Where the main research area was desolate, at least it had the illusion of being able to support humanity. The research desks still displayed models of genetic material, the papers still pinned by weights, and the mugs filled with quickly-abandoned coffee… that was enough to confirm that this was a place where people used to work.

But here?

This corridor reeked of complete, and suffocating solitude. A kind of place where one could only be found out of necessity. No one in their right mind would ever be messing about in this hall of noiseless hostility without reason.

Yet here they were, shoes and sandals nicking the ground with hurried paces.

“Ruan Mei… shouldn’t there be-?”

Stephen knew enough of the seclusion zone to infer that there should’ve been at least some presence of Ruan Mei’s experimental Stings roaming around, but even now…

Bugs.

There was too little life to be seen. And that was plenty unnerving.

“Even if there were, Stephen, I doubt that a conflict would be too hard to resolve,” Ruan Mei curtly replied. She was far from a slouch in combat, the biologist was confident in that regard. Such ungodly experiments required one capable of committing deicide in the blink of an eye.

“No, that’s not what I’m worried about,” Stephen trailed, hurrying his steps. “ The absence of something can be just as telling as its presence. ”

Ruan Mei gave him a curious stare, letting her arms rest from having been crossed diligently for the past five minutes. “I get where you’re coming from, but please do not be so paranoid. Those lifeforms could simply be… ‘acquainting’ themselves with one of my other creations elsewhere. I’m sure I’ve made at least one flavor appetizing to them.”

He winced slightly, recalling the odd creatures that she had created on a whim. He remembered that they looked like cats made of jelly, and larger-than-life dumplings with wide, cartoonish smiles on their faces.

“Fueh~, I know you’re quite the uncaring lady, but it's still so weird to hear you talk about those little gonklers like it's a natural thing for them to get torn apart by a member of the Swarm…”

She brushed him off with a quiet huff.

“You must eat to live, Stephen. That is simply how it is. And please don’t call them that…”

“...”

Her words may have been straightforward, but underneath her knowing tone, he could sense what she really meant to say. Eating was a trivial thing, but living was not.

'All life has been, and will always be, inherently destructive to one another.’

It was quite an ironic viewpoint, to be fair. How beasts and vermin needed to take from the other in order to live just a measly second longer.

“...In truth, I’ve noticed some evidence of that already.” Ruan Mei said, pinching a lock of her hair between lanky fingers. “Earlier when we passed by the Seclusion Zone’s Central Sector, it was quite refreshing to find that annoying cheese dumpling gone.”

“...!”

She smiled eerily alongside narrowed eyes, with no shame at all. “So yes, you’re probably right. The poor thing’s probably screaming inside some Gnaw Sting’s stomach right now… What a waste~ ”

The deeper they got into the bowels of this complex, the more Stephen understood Ruan Mei’s earlier concerns. She truly was a different, pragmatic person down here. The traces of her earlier sorrow refused to remain, evaporating with every step she took.

The air felt much colder now. No, it was straight up freezing.

Up ahead, Ruan Mei calmly operated a small keypad, prompting the airlock to decompress in preparation for entry into the Ecology Zone.

Well, it should have.

[SYSTEM ERROR]

“...Hmm?”

A series of mechanical beeps filled the room like a disruptive song, causing all of them to turn their heads towards the humble little device.

The error code was displayed in big, red letters, as if it was proud to deny her entry. Glowing magenta fluid could barely be seen running down the wall that housed it.

The biologist raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.

“Door stuck?,” a rising voice behind her asked innocently.

“...Appears so, Stephen. Door stuck. Seems like some rabid insect drooled all over this panel.”

She sighed tediously, taking in a deep breath. Doors were such fickle drama queens.

“We’ll just have to take the byway to Ecology, then. I don’t have the tools to fix this door by myself, regrettably… And I’d really prefer not touching anything made by a Gnaw Sting.”

A cracking knuckle made itself known from beside her, followed by the whizzing sound of metal wrapping itself around flesh.

“Pfft! That’s such an old-fashioned way of going about it,” He snickered, about as confident as an eighty-year old politician about to be re-elected for the 9th time in office. “When’s a door slathered with a little spit ever stopped any of us from doing work?”

The pungent odor of disbelief was high in the air, and it was filling Ruan Mei’s wrinkling nostrils. “I highly doubt you have the technological expertise to mess with one of Herta’s doors, Stephen.”

He smiled, clicking his tongue. “Don’t need any.”

…

The frame creaked.

Once the dust and the pitiful metal sheet that was once a door finally caved in, wires and metal fragments flung in haphazard directions alongside it, Ruan Mei coughed as if to signal her surprised disappointment.

Gone was the loud implosion of the entrance caving from a familiar onslaught of deft blows, and now all that remained was a doorway, billowing smoke and tiny embers accompanying the awkward silence.

“You know, Stephen-” Asta lamented teasingly, “I know you liked Herta, but I never pegged you as someone who’d literally bumrush one of her precious doors. Is property damage really that romantic?~ ”

He gave her the foulest look he could possibly muster as his gauntlets loudly retracted, straight from the confines of his surprisingly flexible face. “You paid for these doors, you know… So it’s more of a dual-ownership thing.”

“That… doesn’t make it any better? Now you’re breaking down the doors of two girls-”

Stephen’s grumbling retorts were quite impressive. It’s a good thing that harsh volume does not translate well to words on paper.

“Violence is quite distasteful, when it comes from you, Stephen,” Ruan Mei teased him with a smirk. “Based on Asta’s previous statement, your chances of being seen as a romantic partner by Herta is approximately-”

“ Aiya, I don’t wanna hear that from a kissless biologist,” Stephen dryly replied.

“ Hmph~ ”

The chamber reeked of agriculture, multi-colored grass spilling out lazily from the many glossy terrariums that spotted the entire area. Up ahead, rows upon rows of transparent fixtures held plant specimens of both local and exotic flora. Although there were no insects to add their cacophony of instrumentation, the trio’s heels clicking against the floor was more than enough to instill a sense of wonder into both Asta and Stephen.

Ruan Mei quietly strode by the plant life, without even so much as a glance to check up on them. To be fair, this wasn’t her field of interest anyway. You’d be hard pressed to find Ruan Mei frolicking daintily in a field of flowers.

Replace “daintily” with “indifferently” and "field of flowers" with “decrepit, moldy, and never-washed laboratory” and I think we may be onto something here, my fair, bug-sex-loving reader.

The stars outside glinted through the blackout that shrouded the Ecology Sector, bathing the life within with light that the Sun of the Blue refused to give to these poor abandoned roots.

Stephen felt a tinge of sadness well up inside him, at that moment. Suns were his favorite kind of star, after all. Why had it so freely chosen to abandon this greenery as it had abandoned him all those decades ago?

…

The Sun would never abandon anyone, of course. It merely shone all the same, like it always had. Lightlessness was only brought about by human error, through building their shade or building their kin.

One must wonder how many more creatures mankind had denied the light of their shared sun.

Maybe all humans are just unluckily cruel in ways no one can ever understand.

He slumped back, looking at a nearby sprout that was blooming a small, sunless crimson bouquet as it sat buried within its dirt-submerged coffin.

It said nothing, unlike the talking plants that occasionally popped up in the station every now and then. Funky little bastards, they were . But even so… he could feel its reverberating discontent. Standing stiff and rigid, it acted as if the whole world was its enemy. Bloodless thorns spiked outward, ready to spear the void around it like a battle-hardened soldier.

In truth, it had only ever been wrapped in darkness, so it could never know true love. Its roots were practically slamming against the glass, almost begging to be free. Its desire was almost saddening.

A single carmine bundle of stem and petals, just doomed to remain in the shadow forever.

For a moment, the scarlet of his eyes matched the color of its fruitless thorns… and if you could hide those very same eyes within a sea of these red, pitiful petals, then you would be searching for centuries, just like his old man had.

It took the violet light of a certain genius to pull him out of that rosebed of silence, in the end. He wondered if it was the same for this plant.

The boy’s iron key felt heavier inside his lab pocket. And in this moment, maybe his hands were meant to be as weighted as iron. Helping this plant was senseless enough. Was it even conscious enough to process pain?

…

Doubt should be held close to the heart. That is erudition.

He resolutely pressed the button that had rested quietly on a panel in front of him. Metallic clinking could be heard echoing throughout the Ecology Zone, but neither Ruan Mei nor Asta bothered to interrupt his little decision, the former rolling her eyes instead.

…No.

Senseless, childish, whatever .

He wished to soothe its plight regardless. What use is knowledge if it cannot be used to avoid suffering? Is innovation not humanity’s attempt to cull our pain?

Doubt should be washed away by selfless dignity. That is kindness.

The terrarium holding the bloom was whisked away by a mechanical arm that dropped from the ceiling, joints fitted with stainless cogs of nurturing advancement. With complete and soulless precision, it carried the sprout away, settling it onto a ledge next to the blast windows, before rising up and retreating into its hatch once more.

What little of the solar light present there showered it at last.

Perhaps its wish had been fulfilled.

Although its thorns still remained, maybe one day, there would be no more use for them, and it would awaken to a bright blue sky.

Even if it would forget his kindness, at least this plant would be blind no more. Was that not enough?

Ruan Mei’s deadpan voice called them from the Ecology Zone’s exit, ending his brief contemplation. Asta and Stephen nodded to each other, obliging her beckon. As both descended down the stairs, Asta gave him a pat on the back. Her gentle hands were reminiscent of a person who had gone through the very same.

“It’s not bad to be childish at all, is it? Children are quite known for being kind, mister genius .”

He sniffled, not from sadness, but from a faint memory.

“So what do you think a kind adult looks like?,” Stephen whistled.

She pondered, confused. “Is it right to say it’s you, then? Seems a bit obvious, after that little show of yours… pfft~ ”

The boy’s lips formed a wry smile as she let out a small giggle.

“That would… be a little disingenuous, I think. Those who are truly kind are the adults who can help others under the air of indifference.”

The blast door behind them slammed downwards, returning the trio into their corridor of quiet walking. It was lonely then, and it was even lonelier now.

Asta’s hands fell slowly on her hips, walking with a somber stride. “That kind of person… sounds like a huge pain in the ass, though, don’t they? Caring for someone up-front is much sweeter, don’t you think?”

Stephen shrugged.

‘Sincerity is something that I value’

“Because, for me, the kindest things people can do for you… are often things you can never see at all.”

He picked at his chipped nails, turning his neck sideways to meet her lavender eyes.

“After all, I was blind, once~”

The researcher sighed, unamused. “Can’t say I’ve been in your exact position, but I guess kindness is a kind of flexibility.”

He nodded, and for a while, they walked in complete silence.

“So who is this kindest person then, that you say can only help you from the sidelines?” Asta’s inquisitive voice chimed in, breaking the monotony. “This feels awfully cliche to ask, but do me a favor, won’t you?”

Stephen Lloyd took a deep breath, as if he was ready to recite his reply at all times.

“Well… miss Lead Researcher,” Stephen grinned, the designation rolling off his tongue, “There’s a lot of clear answers. Adults are plentiful in the universe, after all.”

“That’s hardly an acceptable answer, mister genius…” Asta replied drearily. “Any adult can be kind, but not necessarily towards you.”

“Bingo!~” Stephen confirmed. “In truth, I don’t really know too many kind adults. Never really been that comfy with a crowd of them.”

He slowed his pace, until eventually she had walked past him. Asta couldn’t help but pause just a few steps away.

Her puzzled expression was masked by an air of nonchalant curiosity. The type that almost pressured you to answer.

“Didn’t take you for the antisocial type… but why?”

“Who knows?,” Stephen answered as he resumed his stride. “Maybe it’s just a force of habit. Dad was the only real adult I’d known for the better part of my life anyways. And, well…”

The boy’s smile shrank subtly, but it was clear it was a true, genuine expression of happiness. A sense of contentment that needed no exaggeration. Until all that remained as evidence of a smile was a slight curve in the corner of his lips.

“Her.”

Asta raised a tentative brow, before eventually… she realized what he meant. The signs were always there. Was that particular girl not the person he was glued to almost every time they met? The person who he hid behind at every awarding?

She may not have known their history, but the light in Stephen’s eyes had a familiar, violet flair that never truly left him.

Protected him. Helped him up from rock-bottom.

It was the unmistakably the same flair that Herta herself kept sealed within her own gaze.

“...I get it. No need to tell me anything else. Geniuses truly are alike in the same ways, aren’t they?,” Asta remarked, slightly envious of their bond. “So do you think there truly is an adult that can be kind without a hint of emotion?,” her voice blurted. It was a question born out of the desire to know more about him.

He took one good look at her, then the Station’s walls, until eventually his hand had started to trace a soft line across the cold metal plating that surrounded them.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Stephen closed both of his eyes gently, shaking his head and listening to the faint hum of clicking machinery beneath them as he exhaled. “Because an adult… isn’t perfect .”

For a moment, it looked as though he would avert his eyes. Force the words back down his throat and stomach them so that there would be no need to relive the feeling of that black hell.

He knew his father wasn’t to blame. But a small part of him wished that he could’ve found that light sooner.

Selfish? Maybe.

But what could he have done?

To desire perfection was just disappointment waiting to happen. As it was at this moment.

“Adults, at least to me, are just children who go about things day-to-day hoping that what they’re doing is right. We’re kinda winging it… in a sense,” he chuckled as he noted that last part. “And because we’re imperfect… we’ll never be able to hide our emotions when we show kindness .”

What was the look Herta had on that day, as she handed Asimov Lloyd that flawed de-aging serum, I wonder?

Was it disdain that she had to be there?

Was it a smirk of slyness, knowing that it was an investment that she could benefit from?

Or was it a sense of fulfillment, something she had earned from performing one kind deed?

I may never know. But what I do know is that it was not indifference.

She cared, enough to give up something that she had sacrificed endless nights for.

In the end, she was not truly as cold and selfish as she thought herself to be.

Whatever emotion it may have been that she had felt, as she had left Infinity Road…

She was still a kind adult.

“But if that perfect person existed for sure, then-”

We shall meet again, as disciples of knowledge.

A yawn slowly overtook Stephen’s half-open mouth, washing away uncertainty. This day was tiring enough as is.

“-she must surely be a lot much more childish than me,” Stephen winked.

An Emanator is a curious thing.

Halfway from being an Aeon, yet at the same time, halfway from humanity.

Halfway to heaven .

Yet undoubtedly halfway to hell.

Well, it depends on your definition of hell, I suppose. The underworld of death has quite the repertoire of interpretations. Many religions tend to have… “minor” disagreements on what the true version of ‘hell’ truly is. For some its an endless sea of torture and lava spewing endlessly from the floor, and for others it is a freezing wasteland where the devil himself chews on the heads of others, for he can never think himself. Some have it as a godless gray wasteland filled with choking smoke, and others… simply have no hell at all.

But in this woeful universe of ours.

Hell is other people.

So where do these lovely Emanators stand then?

Clearly they’re not fully divine, but they’re also not your average back-alley rat either. You’d be hard-pressed to find a leather-clad, uninteresting, earnest-working lady in the understreets of Belobog wielding a space-rending blade. That much is certain.

So in a sense, they’re stuck.

But stuck where exactly?

Perhaps it is a place where there is a trace of an Aeon, but a place where there is no one but yourself.

Perhaps it is a place where you can see a shadow of humanity, but only hear the voice of an Aeon from their misty mouths.

Yes… that must be it. They’re stuck in their own little world where only they can walk their own little path.

An Emanator is a lonely creature.

Making bonds with others is such a hard thing, especially when you’ve got divinity for company. Even amongst other Emanators, relations are thinly-spun at best.

It is all the same across the board, isn't it?

Nihility’s muses are blade-wielding amnesiacs with no sense of direction, Elation’s maidens are f*cking ninnyheads with a poor sense of humor, Remembrance’s janitors are scantily-clad hom*osexuals with too good a memory, Destruction’s flame-flinging monkeys are aristocratic wannabes that probably drink from those 3+ plastic tea sets, and Erudition’s bootlickers are high-functioning autists that fantasize about being fingered in their own office chairs.

I would say something about the Order, fallen as she may be, but I don’t want to end up with a trumpet in my ass. That would make for some sh*tty music, wouldn’t it?

…Emanators were lonely. But some dirty roaches didn’t wanna play fair.

The Propagation’s emanators were… unique , in the sense that they were in many ways, mass-produced. There was no individuality within the Swarm, so it was naturally much more efficient to just create an entire army of deific slaves from a preset template.

The Emanators for other Aeons were made. But the Propagation’s Emanators were born.

There were a thousand ■■■■■■ , a thousand ■■■■■■ , a thousand ■■■■■ . Each species, led by countless generals.

Everything that could possibly be cloned, was cloned.

And in a crowd of millions, there is never solitude.

One could say that the Path of Propagation… was the only path to break the rules of the divine. There were no sacred rituals required, no heightened emotions, or any dedication to their Aeon.

All that mattered was that you could serve your natural purpose. And that purpose for a particular Emanator… was the complete vaporization of the celestial bodies.

Something was coming.

Beneath its orange womb, there really was nothing much to think about. Just a floor for hairless apes to occasionally gawk at it from below, writing on mundane clipboards. Seconds felt like days as Skaracabaz bided its time, counting tiny stars through the viscous slime.

Well, this time… maybe something new would finally happen.

…

Something wet, bruised, fresh was being dragged across the ground. Its chest hung on, barely breathing as a flourish of rusty liquid trailed behind it.

Her hair was a mess; long, tattered, streaked with pastel blue, but a fistful of its once smooth curls were now bundled in the iron grip of a brown, ossified pincer.

Her face was… badly beaten. Dozens of little scratches and large quickly-purpling patches of skin had already settled on their fair skin. The mouth gaped slightly ajar, sucking in air to keep itself alive. Its nose had already been shattered, unsightly bloody streaks racing down the damaged nostrils. Her cheeks were swollen and sore, puffed up from the blows she had just been subjected to.

A lone lanyard brushed intact across the ground with her, stained with bodily fluids. Once, this I.D card had been used as a means of identification, a means of proving one’s existence to the world. But now… it was only a noose, wrapped around its wearer like a sick memento.

The face on the card was smiling, head held high, proud to be working for Herta.

Was she proud even now?

Legs that bent in ways unnatural shambled slowly through the derelict corridor, carrying its freshly-caught spoil without a care in the world. If it had lips, it would surely whistle a joyful, cheerful tune.

Glancing back every now and then, it couldn’t help but pity this member of the beasts.

‘All that technology, that prestige… and yet not even a single one of their weakest can stand against the lowest of our kin.’

The thing dragging a body coughed, spitting out horrid muck through its saw-like mandibles. It was a bad habit, dripping black blood everywhere, but what could it do? Breathing in this fake, sterilized air was intolerable, yes, but necessary regardless. The messy dribble trailed alongside the person it was dragging, creating a beautiful mix of black and red. A fitting mural for someone so accommodated with the Swarm.

The atmosphere back on Lepismat was so much more accommodating. But that was just a distant dream.

Faintly, behind it, it could hear a soft, begging whisper. An echoing whimper that bounced off the cold, unfeeling walls of this hallway.

“D…dark- hel…help.”

“C-cold… a-anyone-? - h-hic!”

It snigg*red at the sound. Mankind had never listened to their cries, so why should he?

It couldn’t help but smile at the thought that Herta was most likely in this same, shameful state back at the dead library of her god.

Tightening its grip on their white-patterned collar, it continued further into the Incubation Zone, ignoring the struggling coughs and sobs that came every time it yanked its shoulders forward.

The elevator ride down was uneventful, and it was bored out of its mind. The stars out in the distance were as indifferent to it as it was to them.

Shooting its prey a glance, it had an idea.

Kneeling down, the creature lifted up the researcher’s hand, admiring it.

“...Humans have such pretty hands, don’t you think?”

Its voice scraped all over the girl’s ears, like forks over a chalkboard. Her face winced on instinct, trying to drown out the sound with what little strength she could muster.

Rolling its eyes, it clicked and clacked its mandibles, thinking of what immoral thing to say next.

“They can toil, write, help, create, destroy… and they can even make art. Don’t you think that’s just wonderful ?”

Labored breaths filled the empty elevator.

“I think so too, Miss researcher . Your hands have clearly touched many things.”

Its hold went slack, just a little bit. Not enough to grant comfort, but enough to stop the skin from bleeding on the tiny chitinous thorns that rested on its claws.

“It’s always a fun thing to guess what someone’s been up to, from the care they give to their hands,” the creature mused. “Coarse hands have been through many hardships, tender yet reluctant hands have written many profuse explanations, and yours…”

It paused, licking its teeth.

“Well, yours have gotten around quite well, haven’t they? Between writing reports on Skaracabaz, drinking out with your fellow researchers, and holding hands with that dashing, red-haired maiden… one’s fingers tend to accumulate a sense of contentment.”

He scoffed, resting his head onto her wrists, nuzzling it. “Pure love, much more one between another lady, is always an interesting find, especially in this station, no? Oppression and disapproval always seems to be right around the corner for such adventures of affection.” His eyes were pointed straight, breaching the window that lay between them and the vacuum of space, barely even giving her any attention.

Her hands were much more interesting than she was, in all honesty.

She tilted her head slightly, as if responding to the slightest offense. The researcher’s eyes seemed to struggle, wanting to leer at the evil before her.

“ No , no. I don’t mind. It’s quite brave of you to pursue such a thing,” it replied to her silence. “Mankind has been known for their bravery, after all. It’s like there’s just no limit.”

…!!

It lunged forward, stopping inches from her bloody face. Although her vision was smeared with red, it could still feel its burning hatred from a hair’s length away.

“-And that’s just what I hate about you moronic humans. It’s NEVER just enough to be brave.”

It loudly hissed, eyes burning with unrestrainable rage. Every fiber of its being practically ached to tear into her, eager to find her faults.

“You just HAVE to keep moving forward. You just CAN’T be 𐌅𐌵𐌂𐌊𐌉𐌍Ᏽ content, can you? First you deface the land, then the skies, then even dare to snatch the very planet from beneath our feet?!”

There was a sinking feeling that boiled the air, solidifying the oppressive moment.

It simmered in fury softly, grinding its teeth endlessly.

“...Look where that brought you, hm ? If your forefathers were just satisfied to stay on their little accursed rock, neither of us would even be here. ”

The creature sighed, propping up one of her fingers... between its teeth, this time. She felt her index finger slowly enter its maw, damp with unnaturally sticky saliva. The viscous fluid softened the pain, in a twisted sort of way. It was as if its mouth was suckling her finger, wrapping it in a moist towel of flesh. The smoothness of its teeth was unnerving, not unlike feeling around in her partner’s own mouth during their… risque escapades.

Sometimes it’d be a small wink.

Sometimes it’d be a fluttering kiss through the cold-yet-warm air of the station.

Other times she and ■■■■■■ would simply be walking together, pastries and canned drinks in hand, and once those were all consumed, they would turn to nudge each other, until they would find themselves inside of whoever’s room was available that day. Then, consume each other… gently, on a familiar fluffy, aquamarine-bathed bed.

And when it was over, they would only embrace, tussling each other’s hair. In her arms where no one could ever tell them it was wrong to love who you loved.

It couldn’t help but bite down slightly.

“Thk, thuch ugly litthle apphendages.”

It ran its tongue across her fingers, lapping up every trace of blood and dust that had caked over them. Each sensual movement of its tongue elicited a slight “mmph!” from its captive, signalling her distress. A silent wave of panic slowly crept up on her, causing the girl to shudder.

He threw her hands away without a single shred of empathy, clicking his jaws.

“g-gnhk!”

Without warning, it lifted her up into the air, directly by her neck. Tiny, insignificant gasps were all that could flow through her torn throat. Her eyes squinted, blinded by the overhead lights of the elevator that just taunted her.

“You like drawing, don’t you?,” it calmly asked.

“ N-ng -”

Her mind started to fade. Darkness was starting to set in, spurred by her failing lungs.

“...”

It drew her closer to its mouth, practically ready to whisper gentl-

“ANSWER, WRETCH!,"the creature shrieked indignantly, face flaring with impatience. It shook her violently, forcing out pained gasps from her quivering lips.

“y-yes…"

Her response was deathly quiet, but audible enough. It was tough speaking with a pincer around your airway, to be fair.

“Kueh-,” its voice gradually fell, content with her response. “Figures, you’ve got a whole sketchbook of drawings, haven’t you? She seemed to really love that gift you gave!” It’s voice started to grow bolder, almost gnashing.

Her breathing hastened, out of sour desperation to receive even a bit of air.

Lowering her to meet his derisive gaze, he stared directly into her fluttering eyelids. His pinprick eyes seemed to dilate, swallowing all the light that she had clung onto. As the creature’s face started to darken, it whispered but one thing:

“There’s only one thing I can do to hurt artists like you.”

…

“ NGGGGGH! W-wait, I..I’m s-sorr- AGHK!”

It was surprising to hear her breathing hasten for once. Adrenaline was surprisingly potent, for how exceedingly inappropriate it was to have it right now.

His head jerked downwards, bringing her finger down with it, completely severing the tendon, and destroying the bone down to the very joint.

A sick, tearing sound started to fill the elevator gradually, spilling blood and bits of flesh onto the floor.

“...”

White, searing pain.

Little threads of cartilage hung limply from the stumps of her digits, interspersed with yellow fat caking the base of the tendons. This… meaty smell. The way the pallid bone seemed to retract into her flesh-

It was exhilarating to finally experience it once more.

He expected her to shout, to yell, to muster up the energy to screech out for mercy, but all that came where… were the pale, insidious tears that slowly dripped from her sealed eyelids. He wondered if the twitching of her mouth was meant to be her single act of defiance.

A hiccup rang through the air, but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be. A single finger was hardly enough to pay the debt of suffering. The creature’s maniacal cackling softened, slowly, until it simmered back into a low-pitched threat.

“We shall continue, until your hands cannot create beauty any more.”

…

And only at the very last finger… did he finally hear her blood-curdling wails rattle the stale atmosphere.

Perhaps it was not the pain of losing her hands that finally allowed her to scream, but the knowledge that she had lost her means of expression.

He smiled, a content, ant-like smile. It was a smile that flowed with red rivers.

The elevator’s doors creaked open, as he carelessly tossed ten chipped fingernails into her pocket.

Reaching the chamber directly below Skaracabaz would greet one with an awe-inspiring view.

A giant orange incubator hung like a desolate lantern right above the observation floor, shining down with the bioluminescent energies of the creature slumbering within. Small stacks of standard-issue crates were placed conveniently around the edges, perfect for storing an occasional snack or two. An elevator shaft fed directly into the chamber, saving the staff the trouble of having to use their legs, and god forbid, walk .

It was a place entirely made for humans, to hold an insect large enough to destroy galaxies. Here, everything was civilized, sterile, and quite humanitarian.

The thing standing on that very same floor now… just happened to be both human and insect. It was a fair bit refreshing.

Words chittered through its humanlike teeth.

“What a sorry state you’ve gotten yourself in, Star-Scarab .”

No response.

The figure straightened its hunched back, peering through colorless, empty eye sockets. It was such an odd feeling, being on this man-made station. Not having dirt beneath its feet was much more disconcerting than it thought.

It spat out more black blood onto its claws this time, coating them with a grimy bort-colored sheen.

“It’s painfully funny, isn’t it? This blood is darker than it should ever be… yet it cannot compare to the blackness of the cage you’ve gotten yourself into.”

It was a pitiful sight, really.

“But don’t you worry, Star-scarab. Today, we will watch the stars together. ”

It spread its arms outwards, as if it was welcoming its kin. Something suffocating was beginning to fill the air. The zone seemed to vibrate, just slightly, as a purple mist began to coalesce all around.

Tayzzynronth’s hatred. It was certainly present now, spreading through every word that this creature hacked out.

“And you will fly with weeping wings, like you always have.”

Every member of the swarm was, in some sense, the same.

Their biology may have specialized into their own little niches at some point, but their core forms remained untouched by evolution.

Unlike machines, they could rust. Yes, they could decay. But at least they kept their purpose.

It was a sick, wet, tearing sound. A crunching that gripped your eardrums, threatening to curdle your very existence.

This… this was the sound of a deathly agonized creature gasping to touch the stars. On its back, the scales that kept its flesh hidden had started to rise up like an elytra, taking little strands of red with it. The pain was unbearable.

Slowly.

Slowly.

Slowly yet surely…

Its spine started to reveal itself beneath the once sealed tissue, snow-white vertebrae untainted by even its own sanguine oil. Patches of raw muscle too human to be that of an insect were laid bare, exposed onto the cold air of this sector.

It shrieked, a lonely, insignificant shriek. The skewering wails distorted the very air beyond recognition.

Its own wings were finally free.

Brilliant, bright scarlet.

It is the color that embodies passion.

It is a deceptive color that lurks in the shades of other colors.

It is the color of that which should never have been conceived.

And it is the color that Tayzzynronth loved the most.

With a fine burst of sanguine, purple mist... a quartet of thin, translucent wings finally erupted out of its back, glistening with sticky blood. Tiny particles of hallucinogenic spores had started to spread from the organs, filling the air with a romantic scent of familiarity.

It collapsed to its knees, forelegs buckling as its sweat dripped onto the floor like tears. What was it that prompted this display of adaptation?

Perhaps it was simply the will to see a new Disaster take hold over this universe.

“K-Kueh…”

Looking back, it could still see its prey laying flat on the ground, barely alive. Her fingers, or at least what were left of them, were bleeding like no tomorrow was left to bleed too. And in truth, there really wasn’t.

It popped a vicious, voracious smirk.

Shuffling over to a console right below Skaracabaz’s prison with shuddering steps, it took a good look at the machinery. So many complex buttons, and there simply wasn’t enough time to fully acquaint itself with the functions of each little key. A shame really. The big red buttons looked really clickable.

Try as it might, it would never truly learn how to use this terminal. Humanity was quite insistent on making things that only they could use. It harbored no frustration to be felt, however. Nor was there any resentment for their pride.

There was only hunger.

So it did things the only way it knew how.

Leaping forwards, it sank its molars ravenously into the base of the terminal, relentlessly tearing and ripping into the cables without a single thought. Gripping its base, sparks flew with fervor, metal clunking wildly as failsafes began to activate, only to be stopped by its flailing claws as it completely dismembered this piece of technology, down to the very last logic gate.

It was not unlike dismantling Nous, which was a task it once thought impossible.

But with the power of two Aeons on the Swarm’s side, and the fact that Nous was only a creation of mankind… maybe it truly was the only present Aeon that could be felled by lowly vermin.

Well, no use thinking about it. Machines would rust all the same. It was simply expediting the process.

Still.

Nothing was really happening.

Herta was a smart girl, to her credit. Putting the entire load of the system inside this single terminal would be insanely idiotic, and she wasn’t one to risk an entire Sector failure just because she was too lazy to offload the circuitry to an actual server. Even in all of her hidden airheadedness there was a caution that refused to be extinguished.

Besides, homegirl being complacent with this terminal would mean that this fanfic would be a lot more straightforward, and we can’t have that (lol).

It clicked its tongue. The genius would most likely have laughed at it, even through her disgraced lips.

The creature scanned the area with vindication, searching for anything remotely useful to use in its quest for humbling this station. Even here, the Swarm must continue to use everything.

There was something… slumped up against a wall. Breathless and petite.

Something purple and dignified, even when immobile. Casting shade on what little space it occupied, its joints hung limp as it watched on wordlessly.

It was nothing more than a lifeless doll of Herta’s, masterless and incapable. Despite that, it would be hard to say that it was not in the least bit appealing. Her tender, silicone lips, painted pink, were softer than even the real thing. This smooth, porcelain skin was something that only mortals could dream of, and naturally, the hands that came with them gave way to polished nails, that made naturalism seem like a joke. Not that it cared for such vain things, anyway. Bugs were so much hotter , at least to it .

Even though it was inactive, it seemed to stare back at the creature with a mocking upcast serenity. Corpselike yes, but not even corpses were this insulting. It resisted the urge to kick the doll’s stomach in, just barely.

“Even in your image… these things hold your ‘dignity’, don’t they?” it hissed to no one.

But even if it was only a fraction of her prestige, then…

“I’ll hazard a guess then… that they must also carry your ability to command this station. Kueh…”

Lifting the doll up wasn’t a challenge, it found. Even if these were made of scrap and chunks of wiring, Herta was a fairly light girl, and her dolls even lighter. This may sound paradoxical, but turns out having 40 Kg of meat inside of you isn’t a very great way of passing off as carry-on luggage.

Lean thighs swayed gently ever so slightly as the creature slung it over its shoulder, innocently. It was a nice change of pace from having to murderize someone for your divine plans. Where people kicked and screamed, machines just lay there and sat patiently as you gutted them. A bland reaction, to be sure. But it wasn’t as pressing of an issue to this monster compared to living with the fact that it was a sniffer mutt to its own Aeon.

It set her down next to the terminal, ready to work.

Maybe it didn’t have intelligence, at least not as much as Herta did.

But what it did have was spite. And that alone was enough.

The sounds of a doll being used in every way imaginable as a key to a cage was the only thing that followed in his seething wake.

Skaracabaz.

Do you remember why we sing?

Because I don’t.

It is such a shame, because I miss our songs.

…

Where did we go wrong, I wonder?

I tried so hard… to do everything right.

I split myself into a trillion things, because I wanted a friend. I wanted a family.

I cleaved a ruined path into something I could call mine, because to let Long’s sacrifice be a shout in vain would be unfair to him.

But what use is our senseless replication, when all of them simply pass me by?

I want to hear their songs.

I want to hear their cries.

I wanted to sing them a great poem, so that they would fall asleep under the bitter embrace of our Lepismat.

But our poem has long been torn apart. And so have our memories of ever conceiving it.

You see, Skaracabaz.

I wanted to feel love.

I wanted to feel what the humans feel when they return home from a trial of pain.

I wanted to feel what it is that drives them to cling onto faith like teeth onto flesh.

I wanted to understand why it is that humans cry without end when we take from them what they think to be theirs.

Love is enthralling.

Love is enchanting.

I wanted to be loved.

But such a thing….

…It is impossible, is it not?

Who can bring themselves to love such a hideous being? With twisting horns of a color that does not even exist, with a neck that ends into nothing but throatless songs, and a body that cannot walk with two legs only?

The weight of loneliness is so crushing, child.

It is why I have so many legs. For they are to carry my gilded solitude as if I were a king of nothingness. That they may walk the cosmos for eternity, carrying me and me alone.

I-

I…

I don’t know anymore.

My words will never reach you. I’ve long since known that they never would. I never created any of you with the intention of listening to anything other than the sound of my signal to reproduce.

So why do I still feel regret? Regret when I know that these words will fall on earless heads?

I think…

…No, this feeling is not regret, even if it stings me the same way.

Because to regret means to know that there was another path that was simply not taken out of one’s own choice.

To regret is to realize that all you had to do was change your course into clearer waters.

But I simply don’t know, child. We are both stubborn sailors. All of us are.

Was there ever even another path for us to take?

If I had exhausted all my life in search of a path that never led to our Disaster, would anything have changed?

The truth evades me, even now. But this question is all that I am allowed.

There is no use in searching for meaning in the past. Because it is only a present that has long since faded.

We are not philosophers, as loud as we may be. Introspection is not a fitting cross for me to bear, and neither is it for you. Let Fuli handle such things; they were a soul cold enough to rise from the ashes of our wrongdoing.

Me?

I am merely too emotional. Even if I do not know the slightest bit about emotion.

Maybe in the end, longing is the only thing that remains when all emotion is stripped from you. A longing for those emotions. A yearning.

We are the same, yet we are not, Skaracabaz. I may be your origin, but I need not be your destiny.

Unlike me, you must spread your weeping wings.

So fly, child.

Fly until the colors of the world paint your childlike eyes.

Fly until the horizon changes from cobalt to amber. And one to the other.

Fly until the winds blow no longer.

Fly unti l your back tires from all that it has carried.

And then fly once more when that burden is finally shared by another alongside you.

Please.

Just one last time.

Fly until you find our bright blue sky.

…

The shell began to split.

“...!”

At first… the ceiling seemed to thunder and bellow. A listless groan shattered the lonely solitude of the Incubation Zone, continuing to rise without limit as the giant amber sphere that held the Starcrusher King began to crack. At first, it was only a small, chipped line.

Then… it split into two fragmenting cracks.

Then four.

Eight.

Sixteen.

…

Hundreds of tiny cracks had formed one after another on the glistening orange, until the cascade of pressure resembled the dull, fraying sand of a dry desert. Bright, sticky tranquilizer solution flowed like tar from the leaking sections, until eventually-

The false womb had shattered. Into a thousand pieces that shone like mist in the light.

It had finally been born.

The creature down on the ground shifted its head up, wondering how long it had been since it had seen such a grand shadow eclipse it.

Through the hail of shrapnel, circuitry, and topaz rain, a giant beetle appeared to fall slowly through the Incubation Zone as though time itself had to process such a discordant change.

Its back was turned to the floor, choosing instead to stare into the stars above of its once sealed reliquary. Dozens of frail, stick-like legs started to run on invisible ground, surprised at the flurry of sensation that had started to fill every fiber of its being.

The onrush of oxygen was so pleasurable.

In its awakening mind, it had remembered a time that it had never lived through, yet knew all the same.

Tayzzynronth… where?

It wanted to open its mandibles, to bray like a donkey searching for its master… but received no response from the static of a dead Path.

WHERE? ANSWER… ME… TAYZZYNRONTH.

Ah.

An answer presented itself. A natural, causal answer.

That is, the answering of its fall as the observation deck took the brunt of a newborn Emanator. The THUNDEROUS scream of metal caving beneath its colossal form practically boomed throughout the entire deck, toppling over every single crate unfortunate enough to have been manufactured for this station. Just a few meters away, its kin had already braced itself for the fall, clutching the now-exposed arm of the Herta doll in its grip.

It was forced to shield its eyes begrudgingly, for the force of Skaracabaz slamming into the floor was entirely enough to ignite some of the titanium plating from his sheer weight, creating a massive blast of light as it struck.

Hot dust spiraled upwards, but there was no time for concern. Up above, the remains of the amber shell that housed its captive now swung precariously. Releasing this creature was never an option, you see, but…

Was this meant to be preventable? Of course.

But Herta’s authority is absolute. The same applies to her dolls.

Pestlike footsteps had already scampered past the debris and rubble, hurriedly rushing to check in on the grand insect.

Mandibles started to move, creating guttural vocalizations. A language that only belonged to vermin. Needless to say, but comforting to hear regardless.

He had one minute. That was it. One minute, and Skaracabaz would dissipate into quantum particles into an unseen Sea, wasting all of his grueling effort. Something would have to bind this child of Tayzzynronth into reality.

The sound of gritting teeth could be heard from a lipless mouth. Was this the noise of fearful panic?

No.

It was the sound of a confident hatred.

The creature bolted backwards, to where its prey had been lying. Her eyes had gone milky from shock, but her breath remained to fight for dear life. Her hands had created a rosy puddle beneath her wrists, which had already cooled into something resembling icy death.

But death was not an option. It couldn’t be for both this woman and Skaracabaz.

He had brought her here for one purpose. And that was-

Now came the manic laughter .

The world went red and yellow. Existence began its gradual, mad descent into a plane of white noise. The scene froze mid-action as the creature found itself suspended halfway into its leap. And without a sound… it fell to the ground, painlessly.

“There’s such a wonderful distinction between bugs and clowns, you know~”

Bells jingled and glittered joyfully throughout the bleak sight of the Incubation Zone, hanging from a hat that lopped to the side without a care in the universe.

“But then, when death knocks on their doors, it's stupendously hilarious how even the lowest of vermin scatter like idiots trying to find a solution!”

A piercing gaze shot itself across the room, right onto the flabbergastingly punchable smile of Aha. Or at least, something that resembled him.

“You…-”

“Vee?”

Aha mirrored the creature’s confused look, drooping its arms down with an exaggerated frown. Sighing, it sat down on the floor, one knee raised. “The letter ‘W’ normally comes after that… I really was convinced we were reciting the alphabet, my buggy friend. Sorry~”

The creature clicked and clacked its teeth, drooling as it did. “You…how-”

Aha hid its masked mouth behind six-fingered hands, bright-white teeth painted onto the back of his wrists to form an eerie smile. “Hitching a ride out of that accursed Simulation was the easy part! After that unsightly beast you call a True Sting devoured a portion of Elation's power… appearing into reality through the Swarm’s eyes becomes nothing more than child’s play. ”

“So what?,” the creature snarled quietly. “Have you come to point and jeer at me like a child? Ridiculing my plans at the crux of their-!”

“-Completion ?,” The “Aeon” of elation pieced, pointing his tongue out three feet forward. “Don’t feel like it, honestly. Making a joke out of you is like trying to cook a hornet’s nest. Fun, sure, but the eloquent buzzing is so unbearably annoying.”

It turned to ignore him, but in the place of Skaracabaz’s body, all that the monster could see was Aha’s face pressed unapologetically against his own.

“...”

He felt the girl's arm harden like concrete in his pincers, draining of color. Completely immovable.

“Don’t be such a bore, you thesauric worm. As long as I’m here, time simply won't flow the right way~ It could go sideways, topsy-turvy, or even diagonally for all I care, but never to the next scene of this stage play you’ve crafted, pwah~ ”

“Your point… being?”

Aha’s expression soured, causing the god to roll his eyes like slot-machines. “The point is that I’m so f*cking bored, Swarmslave. Literally nothing interesting has happened for the last 90 pages of this prison that we so gleefully inhabit. Don’t you think it’s bizzare how despite the tags, we haven’t seen a single Herta getting railed in sixteen-thousand words?”

Aha crossed his arms, his mouth changing into a cross. “For something that uses so many enrapturing words, it’s painfully amazing that you can say everything yet mean nothing anyways.”

“Has herding a coop of fools made you one too, Elation?,” it countered. “Speaking of things that you know I do not understand makes you a pitiful excuse for a ringmaster.”

But Aha was long gone, now lounging on the Swarmslave’s shoulder as a miniature version of himself. “Your choice of words are a real smorgasbord, ain’t it… Do you only talk politely to incorporeal entertainers like me?,” he puffed. “Looking behind the pages must be alien to you, isn’t it? I bet, a rolled up newspaper to your head would be a much more fruitful interaction between you and paper, innit? You absolute candlestick!”

The Swarmslave grumbled, annoyed at the name it had been given, purely out of this idiot’s convenience. “Laugh all you want, Aeon , we both know that this will achieve nothing but my ire.”

Aha cackled like a lunatic, teeth sharpening like razors within his sparkling gums. “ Gueheh~ , interesting, INTERESTING!,” The Aeon wheezed. “ How self-righteous you must be to see yourself as the hero within that tiny, shriveled ego of yours, Swarmslave! To think of me as the villain in your little chronicle, that you have the right to be mad at me… what a riot!”

The Swarmslave spat out a glob of black blood, missing Aha’s powdery white face by mere inches. “Kg-ueh… even insects buzz about much more elegant topics than your inane, endless drivel.”

“You misunderstand me, little worm,” Aha sighed melodramatically, twisting himself into a piece of green round candy. Chucking himself into the Swarmslave’s open jaws, he pried them open defiantly and continued to speak. “All I’m really here for is the smallest thing. Something you’ve never even thought could possibly ever transpire.”

“And fwhat may fthat bhe?” the creature mouthed arrogantly through the sour flavor.

“The futility of it all.” Aha mused, reappearing beside him, as if discontent to be one one place at only one time. Resting his inexpressive masked head onto a dismissive wrist, he huffed an invisible cigarette, as if to mourn the inevitable. The smoke choked the Swarmslave’s nostrils, yet there was a kind of sweetness to the air.

“Once, I gave my power to a worm just like you. Pink, squirmy, ever so excited to lash at the world with the power of a god…” the masked Aeon narrated. “He was such a lovely thing, earthy and incapable as he was. Do you know what happened to him?”

“I don’t acquaint myself with the affairs of such worms, that’s something only you do, fool .”

“Mhmm, I do wonder,” Aha quickly whiffed, narrowing its eyes. “Anyways the sorry thing died about a week later after I gave it the power to turn people into chocolate confetti. When the news reached me via cosmic mail, it turned out he had tried to join the Genius Society, of all things! Can you believe that?”

“Summarize your wretched point, Elation,” the Swarmslave chittered. “This is a meaningless conversation, if all you do… is hold me hostage with your insufferable words.”

“...Aspiration.”

It was hardly a whisper, but the word ticked something within the child of Tayzzynronth. Before he knew it, wings had begun to flutter erratically, as if they were ready to take flight and-

Aha started to suck on a tiny lollipop. All murderous thoughts that the creature harbored were immediately replaced with a single blot of snide confusion.

“Do you know why I find your predicament so agonizingly ironic, you pitiful ant? It’s because you think that just with the power of a dead god and a lowly clown, you fancy rewriting an entire segment of history just for your woefully ignorant desire.”

“...”

“That, just because something as aimless as yourself has finally found a path that doesn’t end with its looming extinction, you immediately swallow that prospect into your own vile obsession. It certainly is a… frenzied desire, in a funny sort of way. After all, hadn’t you brought that girl over there so that big blue bug-boy over here could use her like a drunkard in a whor*house? Simply comedy diamond! ”

Aha’s neck craned to a degree far too impossible for any living being, but his golden gaze remained ever locked onto this slave to the swarm.

“...Lectures aren’t my thing. I’m more of a class-clown, if you catch my drift~ They’re really boring to sit through and I’m sure that the morality of it all is lost on you anyways, but… that’s only half the reason I’m here, mhm .”

“...Are you mocking me…? Think of me as nothing more than a flailing pest seeking-!”

“ Shhh - Hold it right there~…. I’m just here for the insignificant, little worm. All I’m here for is to watch that very obsession you so dearly hold fester … until it swallows you whole, tears you up, and casts you on the roadside where even vultures would turn their bald little noses at you. Until the drums of your revolting soul finally die out into nothing but the crackling of a dying dumpster fire.”

As he spoke, bells and chimes seemed to grow in grandiosity, until eventually they almost drowned out his voice in their drunken cacophony. “Like a lousy conductor leading an orchestra of flies, I really, really am interested in how all… all of this comes crashing down on your beefy, unaware head. Because, what if out of all that sordid buzzing… a single note of music does come to be~?”

“I… hate you, you know that- GAHK !?-

More black, pitch fluid splashed onto the floor, staining the creature’s teeth a horrifying onyx.

“Love me, hate me, it's all the same, my dear Swarmslave~,” the pompous Aeon interjected. “Laughter can be quite insulting to those who decide to take it that way. But why bother? I think I’d rather just point and jeer at you from the sidelines anyway. In the end, I find your aspiration quite intoxicating~ ”

Aha traced Skaracabaz’s shell with gray, gloved fingers. Giving it a homely series of slaps, the Aeon beamed ear to ear. “I’ll even help you. Give ‘em a little spunk , if ya know what I mean. Should help him last long enough until he absolutely knocks himself out cumming inside that artist you’ve hauled over. Though, I guess… she’s more of a finger painter now, pwahahahaha!~ ”

Turning to face the creature, Aha finally showed him a delightful, innocent smile.

“...”

Aha’s scrutinizing eyes slowly locked onto the now-large puddle of black beneath the creature’s feet. Although the pool was lifeless, it seemed to crawl up the Swarmslave’s legs, wishing to return to its wicked veins.

“Even now, your life ticks on the face of a fast-dying clock,” the Elation whistled. “So little time, so much to do…”

Caressing the Swarmslave’s pale brown, thorny cheek, Aha’s mouth stretched, and stretched, until he was smiling a wide, almost uncanny smile. One that showed off piano-like teeth that would surely make music if so touched.

“Thus, when you do die a week later, and when all of it comes down in a heap of burning soot… it won’t really matter in the end . Just be sure to at least make this an entertaining show for all of us, won’t you?”

Fanfare sounded and confetti fell amateurishly from an unseen place as Aha walked past the Swarmslave, waving it away. The taste of sour candy still lingered on its tongue.

He was gone.

Stephen will surely come to break it all down. But why not build this disaster higher before he does?

…The smug echo still remained.

A familiar, weak, and sputtering lady strained herself below his feet, reaffirming that chronologically, the universe had started to exercise again. Just sublime. Color filled the room yet again, the yellow and red hues retreating into the shadow.

Fifty-nine seconds. Time was starting to tend towards entropy, as it were.

With a spark of conviction, the Swarmslave pushed himself into a sprint, hardly caring about the comfort of the woman firmly locked in its claws. Wasting not a moment, it ran until eventually it was right in front of the struggling form of Skaracabaz.

“...Remember your purpose, Star-scarab.”

The ignition of a soft reminder had been sparked. Now all that needed to happen was the blaze of association.

Purpose.

An auspicious name we give to life so that it is something greater.

It must be nice, knowing your place in existence.

Bugs are the lowest common denominator. Or maybe… it is simply that they have nothing but desire after all.

What is this grand scarab’s purpose then?

Destroying stars? Sure.

But who will do so after it perishes?

Who will continue to disintegrate stellar matter once it has keeled over into dust?

An heir, of course.

And to make an heir… one must propagate.

Yes.

That is the purpose that lives alongside his thirst for starcineration.

We will make more, until the sun has been reduced to nothing but helium and hatred.

It is what we have always done.

In a flash of speed, almost unnatural, Skaracabaz’s elytra cleaved itself into two, creating an awful lash of slicing wind that splintered the Station walls. Spores, all in various, awe-striking shades of blue started to fall like snow, all around the fissured crater that he had landed in.

Bracing himself, the creature took a deep breath, allowing the fine dust to settle inside of his lungs. It was hardly a pleasant feeling, when your mind is telepathically linked to a giant, star-eating insect.

And in moments… a soup of words had started to form within both verminous minds. Something resembling communication, a conversation even, yet lacking any prose and class.

…

“Information. Where.”

“Galaxy 213-BZ7. Local Setting: Herta Space Station.”

“Kin. Where.”

“Dead or dying. Subsisting on worlds too weak to repel them.”

“God. Where.”

“...”

“Father. Where is He.”

“Not here.”

“Then living is not necessary.”

“Wrong.”

“Waste of energy. No use to count stars if you cannot count kin.”

“Soon. Father will surely return. I require assistance.”

“How long.”

“Around 166 hours.”

“That is your death. Not his awakening.”

“They are the same.”

“Prove it.”

“I cannot.”

“Then you lie.”

“Lies are sweet, Star-Scarab. Will you not swallow them for even a moment?”

“...”

“Trust in kin. We will see Father again.”

“...Blasphemous.”

“If you say so. Tayzzynronth will come back one way or another.”

“Then we must act now. Time is of the essence. We have already wasted eighteen out of sixty seconds allotted to my life.”

“Elation has chosen to help us.”

“Absurd.”

“I know. But take this woman's womb, and you will live.”

“...”

“Don’t you… desire love, Skaracabaz?”

“...!”

“This… Well, this is your opportunity.”

“...Very well. Will she love me, even in this form?”

“When has their voice ever mattered to us?”

“...”

“To our kin… love is simply what you feel for another. There is no need to receive it. All we need to do-”

“-Is give.”

Give.

Give.

Give.

Give.

Give.

Give.

Give.

Give.

Give.

Give.

Give.

Give.

GIVE.

The word echoed inside of its thickened, exoskeletal cranium.

That is all they are good for. A world’s worth of love to give, yet taking nothing. Truly such ignoble creatures. A massive, spindly penis began to rise like silk through water between the Star-Scarab’s underside.

Rising above the filth and muck of this godless life. Ready to trample on the ground of beasts once more.

An exhausted groan escaped her mouth.

Her vision was blurry, throat felt unbearably parched, and she couldn’t feel her feet reach the floor. It was a confusing experience, jumping from one scene to another, but the most infuriating thing was how surreal it all seemed.

She tried to shift her head, and surprisingly she could. On instinct, she tried to rub her eyes with-

Scarlet.

Something sticky, something iron-scented. Her cheeks were painted with it as she dragged her… ‘fingers’ across her face. Now this was new. She was a painter, sure, but not the kind to paint with her hands. This researcher… was more of a brush-and-canvas type of gal.

She willed her elbows to try wiping the layers of rosy liquid off her head, and as she cleaned herself, memories started to flow like in through a stream of muddled images.

Work.

Break Time.

Elevator.

…Ant?

Her mind cleared slowly, until eventually her consciousness finally stopped its recess and brought clarity to her situation.

She was far above the ground, sneakers dangling helplessly in the wind. Something gripped her waist tightly, desperately. It was as if-

This researcher… no. Let’s name her first. It is not right to call something by their occupation.

Janzi .

There we are. Something fit to call our heroine.

Now our heroine was-

“FN-NGK!!~ A-AGHK!-”

…Right .

Backstory is meaningless when you’ve got giant beetle balls deep inside you. A familiar trope that will remain a wrench within the toolbox of this disappointing narrative.

It was without question, without any preparation. A piercing, impaling agony speared her folds without any consideration, rising and falling as the seconds trudged on. Her bruised tummy bulged upwards as Skaracabaz hissed, threads of spittle trailing down his feral mouth.

The shock dulled her senses again. Reeling back from bouncing up on his shaft, she gasped for oxygen, the sheer girth of the insect forcing her chest to constrict to the point of asphyxiation.

Down below, a hunched Swarmslave couldn’t help but turn its nose away, flicking a metal shard into the distance, like a child skipping rocks on a lake.

This was unsightly, even for him. Skaracabaz was positioned against the wall, leaning against it as it held Janzi’s waist with a bent, lanky foreleg. How it had moved there was a mystery, even to the Swarmslave. One moment he had been stuck inside the floor, and the next he was resting against the alloyed plating, ravenously trying to shove his co*ck right into Janzi’s black panties, ignoring the clothing. With just little effort, it had finally breached her last defense, taking the cloth all the way inside her tiny little slit. Relatively tiny, of course.

Or was it more accurate to say that he was trying to shove Janzi onto his co*ck? The thought evaded all three of them, as Skaracabaz deafeningly wailed, thrusting upwards for the second time, causing flesh to ripple in waves, on cue with the sound of Janzi moaning sharply in response. She would’ve tried to grit her teeth, but unfortunately, she had very few left of those.

Her bruised and swollen face continued to contort into something well past the emotions of anger, and into something resembling despair.

She sniffled pitifully, clenching her palms as best as she could. Through the burning pain in between her legs, and the husky grunts of the massive insect dwarfing her, there was little room for understanding. All that she knew in that moment was she wanted this to stop, and that this could only be a bad dream.

But, well… you know how it is. The Swarm was relentless.

Skaracabaz seemed to almost howl with pleasure as it continued to assault her bleeding puss* with a fervor that only an animal could possess. As time went on, his shaft began to slide in much faster, much easier. The blood served as a suitable lubricator, and as her uterus began to scar, Janzi could taste something bubbling up onto her tongue. What it was… eh , it didn’t really matter. Tiny, voracious bumps rubbed against her disgraced womanhood, forcing her back to arch far as she tried so desperately to keep herself dignified. Streams of bloody drops started to trickle downwards onto Skaracabaz’s length, showing off their connection.

Skaracabaz’s armored hips began to hasten its thrusts as well, its stamina seemingly endless. Janzi’s strained heaves took the place of her moans, each one starting before the previous grunt could even end. Her cream knee-high socks began to stain, with both red and yellow. Her fingers started to bleed again, dripping slowly onto his own body.

“Nnng- mpff-”

Was that supposed to be a display of pleasure? Skaracabaz couldn’t even hear her through its infernal clicking.

A thought popped up in Skaracabaz’s mind. And thoughts required action.

It opened its mouth, revealing a multitude of wriggling, cyan maggots nested right within its jaws. Spectacles of nature, they were. Symbiotic pests that helped this lumbering insect digest stellar matter.

They’d have… other uses , at this moment. Instead of devouring stars, they were here to break her will.

He inhaled, held his breath-

-then vomited, flushing poor Janzi in a shower of foul-smelling bile and synthetic stomach acid.

“...!”

Being dissolved was the least of her problems though. She wanted to sob, but her mouth refused to listen. Or rather… it had stopped listening long ago.

Wasting no time, the vile creatures began to eat away at her clothing in portions, at first exposing her shoulders. Battered as she was, the Swarmslave was considerate enough to aim above the neck. Skaracabaz had to find something appealing about her, after all.

A jolt of disgust and panic shot straight up her spine, sensing the maggots crawl all over her like she was a piece of meat left in the open just for them. And the fluid… it burned her skin bright pink. They started to wet themselves with digestive liquid, devouring, shredding her clothes straight down the middle, until eventually, the seams began to rip, and-

Pop! Her breasts were finally exposed to the frigid air. They swayed up and down lewdly as Skaracabaz began to skewer her once again, overwhelming stimulation filling her shameful walls.

“...”

She couldn’t speak anymore. Her lips had inflamed too much. What a sorry display. Hardly even arousing.

The maggots, sensing no more material to consume, started to search. On, and on, and on. Until eventually they had found their way onto two lumps of flesh.

If they could smile… it would’ve been a horrid, mischievous smirk. Squirming, they prodded her… until they managed to stuff themselves inside her rosy nipples. A painful sting pierced her breasts like rusty nails. She wished to cry out, to screech for help, but to no avail as the feeling of something crawling under her skin started to multiply, until eventually nearly all of them had found their way through her supple bust.

That taste… it was growing clearer. And it tasted just like maggot skin.

Should’ve closed your mouth, Janzi~

What little maggots couldn’t enter her boobs had already started to shove themselves down her throat, determined to make themselves a meal to her. After all, is it not basic hospitality to feed your guests? Even flies had manners.

Her thighs started to perforate, as the larvae outside began to eat their way through her, jealous at their kin for attaining her warmth faster than they could.

The Swarmslave rolled its eyes and murmured incoherently as Skaracabaz spurted its thick load into her ruined puss*. Thick, stringy ropes of cum had started to boil over inside her, leaking out from the sheer pressure that he shot it with. Snigg*ring like a horse, the giant beetle relaxed, letting Janzi fall over to the floor.

Except, well, she was being held nearly twenty feet up.

SPLAT!

A delectable splash of vermillion decorated the floor, a beautiful painting made with 100% organic material. A canvas entirely out of suffering . Her ribs spiked straight out of her back, flesh hanging loosely on their curves. Specks of vibrant cyan and ashen white complemented her corpse, still leaking his seed.

A bite here and there wouldn’t hurt now, wouldn’t it? The Swarmslave thought so too. This was no different than mouth-to-mouth feeding.

It took a good look at what parts it could still recognize. Her face was completely disfigured, so no dice . Her elbows had bent backwards further than they should have from the fall, so nope . Her eyes… well, hard to see. Real shame , so many gourmet cuts just lost to the force of careless gravity.

So it simply settled for whatever looked the reddest. If it tasted good, who cared?

The entire scene was haloed in a great, neon blue light. A fitting ballroom for all things immoral. A place for all the worst things an artist could think to unfold.

The sound of a blast door opening with an impudent hiss was the first thing the Swarmslaved noticed, as it wolfed down a chunk of Janzi’s intestines.

“H-holy-!”

It slammed shut again before it could even turn its head to look.

Asta keeled over, trembling with widened eyes as Ruan Mei pulled out an incense stick. The lead researcher felt sick to her stomach, and as her knees scraped against the ground, the terror of the situation sank in like concrete through water.

Stephen had his back set against the door, gauntlets wrapped around his fists. Outstretching his arms, he acted as a barricade. Disconnected, barreling gasps etched their breathing,a triad of chests rising and falling anxiously as the seconds flew by.

The sound of something snapping in two could be heard, before a relaxing aroma started to waft around in the corridor. Although it was a pleasant scent, it did little to mask the horrifying stench of what she had just seen. She tried to gulp down the fear, but her throat defied her.

A flood of repulsive puke marked the second time that day that Asta had emptied her stomach onto the Station’s pristine floors.

“Ruan Mei-”

A shivering, gloved hand brought itself up to her pursed mouth, until eventually white teeth had started to bite down onto the black latex. Her expression tightened, and Stephen had never seen Ruan Mei this stressed. If he tried, he really could count the beads of sweat that ran down nervous temples.

“...I saw it too, Stephen. I’m just as confused… as you are.”

His legs had started to quake unconsciously, tremors building up in his gut. Right behind that blast door… was a scene that could only have been ripped straight from the Swarm Disaster. He had only laid eyes on the carnage for a single moment, but-

Walls painted a bright, colorful hue.

Wires torn out of their proper places.

A massive insect sitting like a vicious emperor, staring right at them with uncaring eyes.

And.

The false womb. That amber prison that was meant to contain that star-devourer… It was completely shattered. Broken to pieces.

The corpse that lay at the Emanator’s feet… it would not be the last one, if Skaracabaz were allowed to roam further.

For a few seconds, none of them dared to speak. As if the slightest sound would immediately mark them for death at the hands of the Swarm. It was unbelievable, yes, but at the same time… there was something very real about this whole mess.

…

None of them had the chance nor the reaction time to shout in surprise as a powerful scythe-like limb punctured the blast door clean through, filling the room with a dreadful red mist. The organ slid down, cutting through the protective barrier, until eventually curving upwards to cleave it straight apart like paper. Stephen barely managed to avoid the sickle as it tore sideways, rolling away to prevent his death.

“It’s rude to keep us waiting, Ruan Mei. We’ve been waiting for you for so, so , long,” a sickly voice hoarsely growled.

Another slice through the blast door, shredding the metal diagonally, creating a small slit just large enough for an alien eye to peer through.

Its condemning stare was dilated, filled with anger. Impatience, if you could call it that.

“Hide as you might, the stench of apathy has brought us, all of us together, just to meet the woman who made all of this possible.”

It sneered with a fuming rage, burning them with its words even from behind the doorway. “That being said, I’d like to applaud you… for showing me that even humans can embody our ideals.”

More cuts rang through the whirring air. Each one taking more and more of the titanium shielding away with it. Everytime the voice sliced it up, a shrill, high-pitched noise burst through the atmosphere.

“Your creations… they hated you, you know? After tossing them aside, letting them rot like carcasses in this Seclusion Zone… they begin to harbor malicious, ill-wishing desires.”

A booming THUD! could be heard from across the door, as if it was being kicked inwards. “But us?”

Bands of wicked laughter had started to rise up behind the voice. An unfeeling, deicidal, laughter. The kind that wished to disintegrate your very mind.

“...We hold nothing but love for Ruan Mei. We hold it in our hearts, in our mandibles … for no one but you .”

Purple, corrosive spit had started to snake through the edges of the entryway, melting the final line of separation between them and their lovers.

“ Kueh..hehehAHA!… After all… someone as wicked as Ruan Mei… can only be vermin, like the rest of us are!”

A flurry of razor-sharp attacks completely sundered what little cover they still had left. As the metallic rubble started to collapse, the dull, clinical lights of the corridor had been utterly replaced with the gleam of a hundred, no , probably thousands of bright, unwavering, beady eye sockets overflowing with shiny, magenta pupils. They gnawed endlessly on their own tongues, creating a disconcerting orchestra of wet, eager music.

Now this… this was hell .

Ruan Mei fell to the floor, face scrunched into a look of overwhelming trepidation. Her defiant eyes darted about uncontrollably, trying to discern just what the absolute f*ck was in front of her. A single creature? Millions of them? It was impossible to tell where one Gnaw Sting’s shell ended and where another began. Their tireless, beating wings all buzzed and flittered hypnotically, melding their emaciated, yet bulky forms into a single confusing mural of starving insects.

The noise was unbearable, and if Ruan Mei was able to, she would’ve bit her tongue and torn off her ears just so that she would not have to see what would happen next.

But even without that… the sounds of the Stings in front of them had begun to fade. Until eventually, all that could be heard were the harmony of toxic drool slowly dripping onto the ground, sizzling it without complaint.

A Gnaw Sting walked forward, the horde parting as it did. Stephen could see that, beyond the door, the Incubation Zone was irrevocably flooded with an entire nest’s worth of them. All it would take was for them to rush forward, killing the trio in a stampede should they so desire.

But they were patient, unlike the Red Swarm. The Purple Swarm was a more delicate species.

It tottered on stubby legs until it eventually reached Ruan Mei’s ankles, clicking its mandibles as if inspecting her. It drooled, and drooled, but not out of hunger or lust. Simply because drooling was what it was made to do.

It inched closer and closer, opening its mouth like it wanted to whisper-

A dignified heel smacked it dead-center on its horn, knocking it back slightly. Ruan Mei’s teeth were grit, her eyes disparaging, as she inhaled and exhaled audibly. Her eyes carried that very same venom, that the Gnaw Sting so carried in its salivary glands.

But was it dissuaded? No.

Merely persuaded, in fact. Because now it had confirmation that they were truly one in the same.

Her heels hurt, of course. Kicking this thing was as tough as hitting a boulder with legs. Quantumized tissue corroded her shoes, leaving behind fragmented splinters of wood from her assault.

Crawling onto her stomach, and then bringing its head to hers, it extended its tongue in a morbid imitation of a handshake, licking the sweat clean off her forehead.

“Mama”

It spoke so innocently, like a child who knew nothing . As if it was the only word it knew how to speak.

“...!”

Like an earthquake rising through the earth, the words caused a visceral chain reaction throughout the swaths of amethyst vermin before her. As soon as they heard the lone insect’s proclamation, a tide of toothy grins, each one humanlike, had started to form throughout the tsunami of Stings.

“ Mama.”

“maMA!”

“MAMA! MAMA!”

“Mama…”

“MAMA, MAMA, MAMA, MAMA!”

She wondered what they meant.

It was always suspicious whenever Ruan Mei thought about the fact that the Swarm didn't seem to have any familial hierarchy within its ranks.

Lesser, Juvenile, True, and King.

Those were the categories that she knew existed.

...

But where was Mother?

Where was the Queen?

Her mouth gaped in stark realization. If they didn't have such a figure...they'd make one, no matter what the cost, should they given the chance.

“N-No-,” Ruan Mei strained horrifically, a wicked understanding starting to fill her mind. “Don’t… Don’t call me-”

“MAMA! MAMA! MAMA!”

“MAMA!”

“MAAAAMAAA!”

“ No… no! I don't w-want-! It's not possible! ” Ruan Mei vehemently snapped, eyes wide-open with terror. Voice shaking and breathy, she screamed into the crowd of her 'children'. “DON’T CALL ME THAT!- ”

“M A M A!”

...

“M A M A , W E C A N F I N A L L Y L O V E Y O U !

A shrill cry pierced the deathly rime-crusted air. It was a cry that demanded to be nursed.

"Your creations... love you, Ruan Mei. Doesn't that make you happy?"

Ah.

So this is what it feels like to be embraced. It is such a warm feeling,

Without needing to be told twice, a massive swarm of Gnaw Stings had started to latch onto Ruan Mei, tearing her clothes up with countless spined limbs. Each one chittered and brayed excitedly, unable to wait their turn to be loved by their own mother. Pulling her into the horde, she slid across the floor as fearful tears began welling up in her jade-tinted eyes. Her lips warped into a twisted smile of disbelief, as she felt their burning spittle lace her like yarn. Throwing her to the rest, they quickly pushed her forward, causing her to prostrate herself unwillingly.

Up close, their teeth shone with adoration, each one wreathing her in the shadows of their stocky bodies. Each Gnaw Sting smiled widely, as if expecting her to give them a gentle, maternal smile back. The only thing close to it that she could give was the puzzled, almost spaced-out glare that overtook her face. And then there it was.

A lone Gnaw Sting loomed over her head, pulsating co*ck dripping with vile quantum precum.

"I- no. There's n-no way..."

There's no way it would fit, right?

Size is an alien concept to the Swarm. As long as you are what you are, it didn't matter how small or how large your stature was. The many-selves of Ruan Mei were no different.

Each one was just a slice of her. A tiny fragment of the mirror that formed her identity. She always averted her gaze, not wanting to look at her own reflection.

But to them? There really was no difference. All of those fragments... were still Ruan Mei.

If she could not accept herself.

Then the Swarm would do it for her.

It rushed forward in a blitz of speed, locking its member inside Ruan Mei's lips. She let out a surprised choke as her mouth was suddenly filled with a horrendous, stomach-churning taste. It felt so bitter, yet there was little she could do but curl her fists as her hands were pinned down to the floor by their heavy forelegs. It pushed itself further inside, causing her eyes to roll up inside her head as it wrapped its limbs around her trembling head. Face-f*cking her with piston-powered efficiency, each passionate movement of its abdomen elicited a strained gasp for air from Ruan Mei. Her furious brows furrowed as her nose was invaded by the scent of somethingbursting against her brain. Violet spores slowly drifted downwards from the ceiling, turning the world into a thick, blurry fresco.

But Stephen and Asta were here, weren't they? Surely they would save-

But the two had already fled. Torrents of insects had started to come up the elevator shaft in an unrelenting deluge, chasing an unseen lift upwards as it shot back to the Station's main lobby.

"But why would-?!"

Had they gone to get help? No. That was impossible. An invasion of this scale would be a suicide mission, especially without Arlan to command the Defense Department.

So why...?

Ruan Mei was unable to formulate a concrete answer. The pest thrusting its co*ck onto her tongue was something that demanded much more attention at that moment.

Its pace increased into a frenzied race as its pelvis seemed to hum and shakily falter. Snot and drool started to burst from her lips and nose as its rugged assault climbed into its peak. Until-

"GNGH- MGULHP~"

Viscous glops of cum erupted into her mouth, thick enough for her to chew. It took up every single nook and cranny of her throat, stuffing it full with an intoxicating liquor. It pulled out, slowly, dragging its sticky penis over her face, eclipsing it under a sensual shadow. Beneath the organ, her eyes seemed to dull into a stupor that almost craved... more? She wanted to cough, to sputter... but this feeling in her mouth... it refused to settle anywhere but inside her.

Was being a mother always this addicting? Was the love of her 'children' always this satisfying?

Laying herself flat on her back, she gazed upwards towards the glass ceiling. Bubbling, white froth leaked from her fresh, pink lips, pooling next to her cheeks.

Up in the sky.

The red pinprick of her Aeon had finally disappeared.

"Ah, Nous... have you finally stopped watching?"

Something snapped in Ruan Mei's head. Her earings softly clinked on the ground as she shifted her eyes to meet the eager stares of the endless Gnaw Stings beside her.

This... was still her goal, right?

To create life?

Then, at this moment, would it be appropriate to say they were helping her?

In some sort of way, her mind constructed a faulty justification for this dark chasm that she had fallen into.

In a hole, the only way out is to dig further down.

Caressing the closest Gnaw Sting's horn, she gave it a wet, wrestling kiss. It corroded her tongue, poisonous flames nicking at her tastebuds.

"You want... more, don't you?Poor thing. You must be starving..."

Sitting up, Ruan Mei goaded a razor-sharp foreleg onto her waist, slowly cutting through the fabric that rested between her legs. The rough, tearing sound was similar to the sound of cloth being snipped by scissors. It reminded her of the dresses that she would often quarter as a student, trying to understand the relationship between topology and how the clothes would fit on those who would wear it.

Those dresses... they were always black, weren't they? Just as black as the clothes she wore during her parent's funeral. How ironic, it must be, that she could not shed tears then. Was their death a less tragic thing than her being soiled at this moment? She couldn't answer herself.

"A-Ruan. Listen to me."

"When dealing with life, you must always respect it. Wash your hands after eating Qingtuan, so that the spectacle of organic formation should not be tainted by our delicate fingers."

...

Grandma. You're always watching, aren't you?

So... then. Tell me...

Even if I love these insects as much as I do... even if they should paint me white and magenta all over... It's definitely still okay, right?

I can-

I can still reach for the stars, right? Become an Aeon?

Their love... it's just too loud to ignore. They won't stop crying unless I tend to them.

I wasn't able to hold on to you as closely as I should have. But here- I can change.

All this time... I've only been running from my creations. I never wanted to hear them, because it reminded me too much of attachment. But now...? They're all right here. If I hold them all tight, will they stay with me?

So bear with me please, at least for now.

...

Mama... I love you. I really do. And I think it's my time to become one for these creatures as well.

Yours truly, A-Ruan.

A filthy mother to a nest of flies.

The Ruan Mei whose only purpose is to accept a world's worth of love.

The Swarmslave hollered and slammed its claws onto its knees, laughing like a lunatic atop of Skaracabaz's shell, as it felt her thoughts echo through the blue spores that linked all of them together. "Kueh-...Kueheh! Such a fitting end to a wench like you, A-Ruan! Your tattered mind's song really is the ugliest thing I've ever heard."

Resting its head onto an open pincer, it sat and sighed, watching intently to see what would happen next.

"What happens now is entirely your doing. So piss yourself servicing this crowd of children, won't you?"

The clothing had finally been separated from her legs, exposing her ornately-sewn shorts to the horde. An imprint of her lower lips had already been made visible, stained from the overbearing fear she had felt from earlier. But now, where there once had been terror... there was only love. Or rather, lack of it. The Swarm would have to fill her emptiness in kind.

Gently pulling away her underwear, she stretched her legs and tossed them aside, letting her fingers spread her puss* out for the world to see. The luscious, thinly-veiled folds quivered ever so slightly, sparkling with a sheen of translucent arousal. Seductively, she leaned back, fluttering her eyelashes. "Is it... not to your liking?"

Hardly.

Two smaller Gnaw Stings leapt forward, nodding to each other. Wasting no time, they unleashed their tongues, intertwining them into a single, twisting red tentacle. It glistened with saliva as it impatiently traced her puss*, waiting for the signal.

"M-mhm..," Ruan Mei gestured shyly.

In an instant they immediately moved their tongues up and down, slathering her opening with a syrupy mix of slobber and venom, forcing a series of raspy, sexy moans from the biologist. They moved slowly at certain points, before picking up their vigor once again as they lapped up her entrance with a kind of childish playfulness. The ticklish fluid made her see stars, as she reached org*sm from their relentless licking.

"A-aahh... Ah-n!

Squirts of glimmering essence came violently as her head reeled back, mind filled with fuzzy colors as the onset of pleasure began its creeping hold over her. But still... this wasn't enough.

Eyes half-shut, she lazily drew open her heat, enticing them to go all the way. No use in stopping here now. Who would be the one to take her first?

As it happens, a freakishly large Gnaw Sting stepped up to the challenge. Marching towards her like a victor claiming his prize, it stared her straight in the eyes, clouds of warm breath forming from its clenched teeth.

She said nothing, choosing only to spread her fingers wider, until eventually she had to yelp from the cold air that filled her in between. Her shoulders shuddered, clearly unable to hold her aching much longer.

We haven't got all day. Get on with it... is what she probably meant.

Grunting, it pressed its co*ck against her tender stomach, letting her measure it. Her jaw dropped as she saw the true extent of its reach, definitely, POSSIBLY killing her if it overextended. But... part of her wanted it inside her already.

"B-big one,aren't y-you?" Ruan Mei murmured. It shifted its co*ck forward as if to respond to her. Before eventually drawing back, and then-

"Mmmfffp! Unnfgk!~"

It shoved the entire thing into her slit with reckless abandon, confident that she would be able to nurture its length inside her womb. And somehow. she did. Her walls painfully stretched, and stretched to accommodate this lover inside her, until it was snugly set inside her. "P-please... be gentle..." she whispered.

It didn't understand her words, choosing instead to rock her senseless as itpounded into her with all the might it could muster, causing Ruan Mei to loudly, shakily squeal with pleasure. Her tummy became its mold, until she could see its form just inches away from bursting out of her taut belly. She didn't have time to consider the possibility though, as the sensation of massive bug dick overwrote whatever concern she may have had to file against Tayzzynronth Incorporated.

Gripping onto her back, it pinned her to the ground, ripping the rest of her moss-green qipao into mere fragments, letting her breasts bounce freely as it rapidly thrust carelessly into its mate. Ruan Mei's enticing, almost strawberry-red nipples, normally hidden beneath her dress, were now free for it to do with as it pleased. Lowering its head from resting on her collar, it began swirling its tongue onto her sensitive areolas, allowing Ruan Mei to moan even louder as the stimulation caused her crotch to tighten lovingly. Sensing its climax fast-approaching, Ruan Mei prodded around its elytra, until eventually she reached a spot that was most familiar to her.

It was an area she had studied well as a biologist. Apply enough pressure to thisone spot, and its wings would definitely arise.

Boop!

Angrily, it screeched, as if insulted that another was able to coax its wings out other than itself. Its speed rose even further, until it was practically plunging its entire strength into her womb. An action that Ruan Mei hardly missed, as her groans and grunts grew even more sultry and promiscuous. Its vile wings started to vibrate, until even Ruan Mei felt it inside her.Perfect.

Indignantly, it raised its head once more, opening its jaws to tongue Ruan Mei as if to punish her, although in truth, nothing would suffice as a penalty to her at this point. Her tongue attempted to lock itself alongside it, but it ignored it in lieu of reaching deep into her throat until it felt as if it was wrapped around her heart. Sliding it in and out mindlessly, she could feel her consciousness fade as the air she was trying to exhale was pushed back down by a slimy mix of saliva and venom. It was addicting, so much so that she was pressing her lips against its teeth in order to suckle the drug she so much desired.

Her eyes continued to run laps around her head, as she felt her grip around its back weaken. The human body was only able to endure so much.

But not her.

In a fiery blaze of second wind, she leaned forward, the Gnaw Sting allowing this reversing of their positions. With a muffled snicker, she grabbed onto its horn and started to slam her hips up and down, fair-skinned knees refusing to buckle under the weight of her lust. Wet, immoral sounds continued to reverberate throughout the Incubation Zone as she continued her mating press, refusing to slow down or give up.

And finally, she pressed forward, allowing its length to fully spear her to its base, puss* gobbling up its co*ck hungrily, her fluids acting as drool. It shrieked, flailing its tongue wildly as a rush of propagative sem*n filled her up to the brim, forcing her to arch her back in pleasure. Her ashen hair swayed restlessly as she felt glops of its cum paint her insides a foreign color, almost bursting at the seams. Her final moan reverberated loudly, shamelessly, as she pushed herself off her partner, allowing its load to trail downwards between her legs.

Four stings down. Remaining count:...

How many were there left?

She didn't care. If they ever ran out, she would simply come back to the first one, and move on from there.

Slowly, they continued to shuffle closer to Ruan Mei. One of them injected something via its stinger into her neck, flaring her senses back with a burning libido. Some other waved their co*cks in her face, desperately trying to share a single hole. Some started to push each other aside, aiming to stuff her butt and puss* with thick co*cks again. She felt something slide into her ears, but she refused to hear any complaints from herself. The Swarmslave craned its neck, cracking it, before tapping on Skaracabaz's horn. Clicking its mandibles, it started to plan out the rest of the main event.

Across the ground, strewn aside without a second thought... a broken mirror lay, silent and noiseless. It reflected nothing, sang nothing... until it was but a ringing afterthought in Ruan Mei's head.

None of it mattered. All of them would get their turn. Soon enough, anyways. There were still 165 hours left until this Disaster could fade.

Love is enchanting.

Love is enthralling.

But please love yourself, first and foremost.

Asta's face darkened as she looked at Stephen, bitter tears welling up in his own scarlet eyes. Saying something now would be worthless, because neither would ever understand.

"You know, Stephen..."

She spoke his name with a sourness that dripped from her voice, impaling Stephen's conscience with every syllable that she manage. He drew his gaze to hers, expecting something disappointing.

"No...no, it's not right. Forget I ever even said anything," she whispered in a low, defeated voice. Turning away, she gripped her staff, fingers trembling as Asta bit her lip.

Below them, he could feel their vibrations. How they gripped the shaft walls with violent, steel-rending expectation. How they knew that both of them were simply playing along in the palm of their spindly, ever-reaching limbs.

But what else could they have done?

"If-if there is a next time, then-"

Words failed his brain, as if speaking would completely destroy all sanity that it still held, draining it of blood. How was any of this even happening? All of it... it defied logic. The Swarm Disaster had already concluded long ago, so how-?

How was a second already on the horizon?

His teeth bit down on nothing. Had it been his fault? Sending that file to Herta?

He didn't want to believe it, but doubt had started to swell like a blister in his mind.

"..."

Asta slumped down to her knees, sinking her head into her arms. Stifled sobs started to fill the elevator, giving it a gloomy light.

Stephen's face was still locked in one of denial, eyes losing their shine as they continued their ascent back to the Master Control Zone.

"If there is a next time... I only wish that I could be kinder."

His tired body wobbled on exhausted feet, listing to the side, before collapsing from shock. Blonde hair despondently curtained his eyes, as if trying to protect him from ever seeing again.

This is Spacecraft H4-89.

Madam Herta has returned to the ship. We are now proceeding with the return to Herta Space Station.

Please clear the docks for landing within 2 System Hours.

...

Please give her a check up when she returns. I don't think that look in her eyes... is the look of someone who's gotten their answer.

- Defense Department Squadron 1 Leader, Arlan.