Tick-tock, tick-tock.
The faint humming of various instruments working resonated so clearly in the dark, deep brig decks of the ship.
Between the prison bars formed by metal pillars as thick as bowls, scarlet plasma beams ran across, their glow reflecting in rippling halos. They twisted like living lightning, unstable and alive.
In the center of the cage, nearly four meters tall, seven to eight meters long, its shoulders sprouting two sharp, bladed limbs, the broodmother now lay weakened and miserable.
Wounds of all sizes marred its torso. The once-spined, predatory limbs were severed, yellow-green ichor still trickling like thin streams.
Every limb capable of movement was bound by electronic shackles. Needles stabbed deep into its flesh, extracting and injecting unknown substances.
On the incandescent lamp covers above, shadows trembled.
Hiss…
Pain.
Weakness.
Psionic signals blocked.
'I am not dead… still alive.'
From chaos, thought began to clear. Cold sensations registered in its awareness—the confinement of its limbs, the intrusion of foreign devices mapped across its nerves.
Its entire body still ached. Its mind swam with shattered fragments of memory, but one clear image remained: the swarm torn apart, thunderous lightning, a blinding blade flashing before its eyes… then nothing.
'A prisoner then…'
Instinctively, it shifted its hooked limbs to touch the ground. No damp slime, only cold metal.
Thud-thud—
Steel boots striking deck plates.
Suddenly, white light and shadows appeared within its perception.
"Wow! I actually like this one. No—better to call it a beast than a bug… At least it looks better than the Flood I trained against back in the 117th detachment of the Second Legion."
"Fierce and resilient. Look at that body—a finely crafted bioweapon. Claws and fangs designed to rend prey, a physique strong enough to survive any hostile environment, chitin thick enough to shrug off most small-caliber fire…"
"Hey, and it's female too. Even better."
"Uh… you can't—or at least, shouldn't—go that far. What, you spent a stint at the Imperial Science Bureau and got converted by them? If you can say that, what's next—taking a liking to the Flood?"
"Shut it! That's different. These broodmothers are at least fixed individuals. Their chitin even has a rough texture, like the earth-dragons we kept back home. The Flood? They're nothing but rotting flesh and corpses turned into a proliferating slime. Touch them and you risk spore infection."
...
'So their goal from the start was to capture me…'
Though the broodmother's genetic information network held no record of this language, as a highest-tier Zerg under the Overmind/Queen of Blades, it possessed intelligence. Having fought humans and Terrans often, it could still sense the tone of their speech—their satisfaction and delight.
It tried to rise, but as soon as its hooked legs straightened, the cold choke of iron chains at its neck forced it down again. From the invasive devices inside its body, weakness spread rapidly through its frame.
"You are not Terrans."
The broodmother lifted its head with difficulty.
"Oh, it's fully awake now. Recovery is better than expected."
"Cease the 'soul-rend' for now."
"Contact the Inquisitor."
Outside the cage, several Imperial Navy personnel in simple gray uniforms and lab coats exchanged looks.
Click!
One tapped at a holographic tablet. Instantly, the electronic shackles eased. He gestured politely, switching to standard Imperial English: "Correct. We are not the Terrans you speak of. We are Imperial."
"Hmph, Imperial? The Terran Dominion, or the United Earth Directorate—they've turned into Empires too?"
The electronic shackles loosened, the range of motion widening. Only then did the broodmother feel the pressure and restraint on its body ease somewhat. It struggled upright, fixing its gaze firmly on the humans before it, defiance clear in its tone.
"None of them. The Sacred Selene Empire… No matter, you will soon understand. To encounter the God-Emperor's Angels of Death, even as a captive, is your honor."
He adjusted his collar with casual elegance, speaking smoothly, almost roguishly: "Dear Mother of the Swarm, Lady Gloria."
"My name—how do you humans know it?! Damn it! You probed my memory! Impossible… Since when did humans gain the ability to crack psionic signals in so short a time?!"
The broodmother Gloria let out a sharp, piercing hiss.
"A minor technique. Nothing worth mentioning."
"Humans, you took advantage of my weakness… Hah… Forget it. Words are useless. I lost, and that is that."
It had wanted to curse their underhanded victory, were it not for that damned dragon—but in interstellar war, in races clashing for dominance, what fairness was there?
Now a prisoner in chains, Gloria let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh.
"God-Emperor? Ha… ha… Humans, you've become as hypocritical as the Protoss, always parading themselves as the Firstborn of God."
"Do as you please. I am already your captive. Kill me, flay me, control me, study me—whatever you wish. But… your triumph won't last. The Queen of Blades has returned. The Heart of the Swarm is once more in Zerg hands."
"The Swarm never stops. The Queen will lead trillions of Zerg to return. The whole universe will tremble beneath her feet! Burn beneath her feet! The world belongs to us!!"
In other words—even if I fall, there is still the Queen of Blades, still other broodmothers, including Zagara. Do not be arrogant.
Before her words had even finished—hiss—!
Hydraulic valves hissed, a hatch opened. Thump, thump!
With steady, heavy footsteps, applause spread across the prison deck.
Clap clap clap!
"Well said, well said."
A middle-aged Inquisitor strode in, clad in a splendid red-and-black uniform, a wide-brimmed hat on his head. He smiled, yet the expression remained chilling, especially his pale gray eyes, cold as solid ice.
With one finger, he pressed a control on the console outside the cage. The brig lit up instantly.
Or rather, was illuminated.
The Inquisitor had opened the external holocams of the ship.
Outside, the dark vastness of space was burning. Crimson lances of light flared from the fleet's flank—the Imperial Navy's full salvo. The most important hive minds and specimen had already been secured. The rest were expendable.
Blinding plasma beams tore through the asteroid field like spears, their heat igniting Zerg corpses adrift in the void, striking the planetary fragment that had barely survived beneath the swarm's mass.
It was as though a star had collapsed. The warship quivered slightly as waves of fire spread.
Gloria's last remnants of the swarm were annihilated. She became one of the rare broodmothers whose entire 'tribe' was utterly destroyed.
But it was not yet over.
Buzz-buzz-buzz—!
Ripple after ripple spread through the fabric of space around the fleet, visible even to the naked eye.
Light.
Particles of violet-red brilliance cut reality like knives through butter. In an instant, all familiar sights of the universe shattered into scattered motes of multicolored light. Stretched into elongated rays, they twisted and warped, silent yet ominous.
There should be no medium for sound in the starry void, yet the broodmother's ears caught the illusion of glass shattering.
Crack—!
A blade of radiance cleaved slowly from the fiery remains of the sundered planet, slicing open the skin of the void. In the blink of an eye, golden-violet light spilled forth. Along with it came ranks upon ranks of the Sacred Selene Empire's warships, fully armed and in formation.
The noble purple paint and gilded armor shone brilliantly, the massive golden double-headed aquila at the warship's prow like a merciless eagle descending from the void—a roaring metal beast, ever ready to pounce, to rend prey limb from limb.
Their purple-gold hulls gleamed among the stars, marked with olive branches encircling the insignia of 'III' and the roaring dragon crest—symbols unmistakably declaring their name—
One of the founding Legions of the Imperial Astartes: the Third Legion, the Black Templars.
They were among the Empire's strongest and proudest forces.
The Inquisitor looked toward the broodmother Gloria. He spread his hand. "You are right. The world belongs to us."
"Whether Protoss, the Terran Dominion, the United Earth Directorate, or your Zerg—all are the Emperor's property."
"..."
Gloria wanted to retort, but in the end she fell silent.
The steel giants emerging from the warp might lack the refinement, intricacy, and elegance of the Protoss ark-world ship—the Spear of Adun—but in sheer grandeur, in martial purpose, in the raw dread of death they conveyed, the oppressive aura of iron, rust, and war surpassed it!
And more so—not one or two ships, but in endless ranks. While the Spear of Adun remained the last of its kind, the pinnacle relic of the Protoss' golden age.
Back when the Overmind still ruled, Gloria had fought in the Battle of Aiur.
The Protoss had once fielded three arks: Spear of Adun, Pride of Altaris, and Memory of Nezin. But the last two had fallen, their shields uncharged at launch. Only the Spear endured, clinging to survival.
Yes—at the last Brood War, even though the UED fleet, the Terran Dominion, and the Protoss had joined forces against the Queen of Blades, in the end it was she who triumphed.
But now, the sheer scale of the human fleet before Gloria left her uncertain.
The double-headed eagle banners heralded an ever-growing armada, pouring endlessly through the rift in space, as though without end.
At the same time—"Hey, hey… copy, do you read me?"
The holoscreen flickered. A man appeared—short black curly hair, sunglasses, a circle of stubble on his lean face. Tall and thin, dressed in a yellow-and-white pinstripe suit with the cloak of the Imperial Auxilia draped over him, he lazily entered the channel.
"Hey~ Is this the 2107th Inquisitorial Expedition Fleet? Copy, do you read me? This is Borsalino of the Third Legion's Black Templars Auxilia. We've received orders to coordinate with the Sisters of Battle and the Valkyrie units to provide support."
"Hey~, copy, do you read me? Orders received. Supporting the 2107th Inquisitorial Expedition Fleet. Sisters of Battle and Valkyries have advanced ahead with us."
"Inquisitor, is the cargo prepared?"
"Of course."
...
Honkai Dimension, Imperial Capital Palace Schönbrunn.
"The structure of the Flügel originates from fragments of War God Artosh's eighteen wings… Honestly, did He have that many feathers to pluck?"
In the antechamber study of her palace, Selene floated above a carpet, one hand propping her chin, idly flipping pages with telekinesis, the other enjoying sweets and tea.
Though called a study, it resembled a grand hall more than a simple chamber. The circular room was lined with bookshelves along the walls, even clinging upside-down to the ceiling through antigravity. Countless motes of light drifted in the air and above the towering shelves, the dome rising nearly a hundred meters high, creating a dazzling labyrinth of knowledge and fantasy.
Yes, it was the room of one clearly devoted to study and research.
Ahem, this study was specially arranged for Selene by the Flügel.
Official documents and state affairs could wait a while. For now, she would devote her focus to creating life.
"Let's give it a try."
Selene casually stretched out her hand.
Threads of violet-red radiance flowed freely from her delicate fingertips.
Drawing upon the devoured 'Suniaster,' and separating out fragments of the War God Artosh's concept consumed from the world of 'Disboard,' Selene began the work of replication.
Sigh, such trouble.
The destructive attribute of Honkai energy, aligned with the ruin of the Finality, made Selene especially gifted in annihilation, ruin, slaughter, and devouring. Her comprehension was unmatched—genius was an understatement.
But creation, generation…
Not impossible, but the results tended to differ a little. Uh…
Do Honkai Beasts count?
Do imaginary and quantum beings count?
Does crafting only empty voids of cosmic space, lifeless and barren, count?
Selene judged—yes, they do!
Even if what she made didn't look particularly pleasant.
Buzz-buzz-buzz—!
A swirl of pure white and violet-red currents spun around arcs too numerous to count, accelerating faster and faster. The two colors, forced together, blended under her will until the vortex collapsed upon itself, brilliant light shattering into a colorless ring.
Quite simple, really.
Imaginary energy was drawn forth by Selene from across the boundless Honkai dimension, filling the framework shaped by violet-red radiance—forming, sculpting, replicating…
Until—knock, knock!
"Your Majesty, the Inquisition's report has arrived."
—
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