Looks like you’re sick again—way too annoying.
Amos gave a cold laugh.
“The issue of you failing to return at the scheduled time, I’ll discuss your punishment with the other Crown Clan members.”
Feeney: …
“Hand over all the backlog from this trip to him!”
“Pack his schedule! Have him run back and forth across the stars several times a day!”
Anya and Feiman, dragged down by the “marketing account,” chimed in on the side.
Frey added, “Perfect, just right for him to spend more time with Zao Zao.”
Feeney: …
No, you can’t do this to me!
Feeney anxiously tugged at his beard.
“Wait, just a second, Brother Amos, Your Majesty, can’t you just pretend I never said that? I was late for reasons beyond my control!! …It’s always like this.”
“Later, we’ll go to the starship’s closed training field.”
Amos patted Feeney’s shoulder.
Calmly, Amos broke the terrifying news—he was going to give Feeney a beating.
Ha, wasn’t that also a kind of “torment in both body and mind.”
Feeney: …
“First, we return to the neutral planet.”
Amos said, moving over to little Chu Zao.
The cub widened his eyes, standing atop the examination table.
The table was tall, but even so he couldn’t match Amos’s height.
Amos had taken in his appearance just now.
Those black flames had sharpened little Chu Zao’s gentle psychic power, granting him a destructive force he’d never had before.
The cub’s existence truly was remarkable—he possessed the rare ability to manipulate psychic power and emotion, and now, a power completely opposite: pure destruction.
And that flame burned—
At the very spot where Chu Zao’s halo had grown dim.
“Baba.”
The cub was being asked by the medical staff to turn in a circle.
He finished, so the basic check ended.
He reached out a small hand to Amos.
He wanted a hug.
Amos paused, but still picked Chu Zao up.
After declaring war on the Hymn Organization, Amos still carried the scent of blood.
He worried the little one might dislike it.
But Chu Zao’s eyes shone, his black curls bobbing with each movement, his halo brighter than ever.
The five-year-old’s hands clutched Amos’s uniform, rumpling the black military jacket.
“Baba, Baba—you’re amazing!”
The soft baby voice cut through all other sounds. Every Crown Clan member present, old and new to Chu Zao alike, turned to look instinctively at the little one so excited that even his wings beat wildly in delight.
“Zao Zao wants to be a powerful Crown Clan just like Baba! Baba protected Zao Zao, and Zao Zao will protect Baba in the future!”
Amos was startled by those words, then his fierce expression softened. He put the cub’s little head on his shoulder.
Thinking of that fledgling, yet already formidable arrow shot.
Given the cub’s unique psychic power, what his future would hold was hard to say, but one thing was certain: Zao Zao was a strong and brave little Crown Clan, not the timid cub Amos once assumed him to be.
As a parent, Amos must reassure and affirm him, so he’ll believe he’s clever, worthy of love, and beloved by all.
“Of course, Zao Zao will grow to be a powerful Crown Clan like Baba.”
He hugged the soft little one, now himself calm, then looked to the medical team.
“How is it?”
“Your Majesty, initial checks show no issues with little highness’s psychic power; it’s just that he seems to have expended a lot. Let him have some high-energy food, and it should help. We’ll prepare the right milk formula at once.”
All associated data was brought up.
“Of course, tests on the ship aren’t perfectly accurate. Better to have a thorough check at the medical center back on the capital star.”
The little cub’s tummy rumbled.
He was hungry.
Everyone instinctively looked over.
“So—using psychic powers makes you want to feed on others’ psychic energy, and using that power in particular makes you physically hungry and crave food?”
Frey muttered, summing up.
It was a bit like using two skill gauges in a game.
“What, what, what?”
Feeney, who knew nothing of the cub’s abilities, pressed in close beside big brother.
He hoped to arouse some big brotherly compassion—didn’t everyone know about his cursed luck by now?
You can’t just ignore the truth because I came home late, brother!!
Feeney genuinely didn’t care much—cute, sure, but he’d just met the cub and was still a bit numb.
Not as shocking as whatever strangeness Amos had displayed.
He just wanted to avoid endless work and didn’t get the gravity of the situation yet.
Meanwhile, all eyes were now on shy, growling-stomached Chu Zao.
He really had felt hungry right after firing that arrow.
But since he’d eaten a fair bit, he hadn’t paid attention.
Still—
He blinked his big eyes.
Still holding Amos’s neck, the medic’s words echoed in his mind.
High-energy foods?
“Baba—”
Suddenly his eyes sparkled, the cub tipping his head to Amos.
“Can Zao Zao have candy?”
Amos looked down, finding himself facing the cub who had already eaten his day’s quota of sweets.
Those honey-colored eyes were full of hope.
“Better wait until after dinner, hm?”
Frey interjected.
The cub puffed his cheeks, glancing at Frey.
It wasn’t a tantrum, just a little complaint—he clearly knew Frey was right, but wanting candy so badly, Frey had momentarily become the “obstacle” on his path, making his playful expression even cuter.
Even Frey’s icy face melted a bit, and he looked to Amos, helpless.
Feeney still hadn’t figured out what was going on, but two people responded instantly.
Feiman: “Auntie has candy.”
Anya: “So does Uncle!”
But the final decision was up to Amos.
Sensing Amos’s hesitation, the little cub pressed softly in Amos’s arms, wide eyes never leaving him: “Baba, candy, Baba, candy—”
He was acting cute.
Oh heavens!
He’s acting cute!!
Just like when he’d been younger, reaching out for a hug.
Back then, Chu Zao had been so full of hope, only to be disappointed again and again, slowly growing into the cautious cub they’d first met.
But now, it was like they’d raised back the frightened, timid child who’d been afraid of everything.
Who could resist giving him candy?!
Give him!!
Give him all of it!!!
Every Crown Clan member and nearby soldier was thinking the same, just as Amos said:
“No.”
Everyone: …
Wait!
Your Majesty, how could you bear that?
The cub’s eyes went round, his soft cheeks puffing into a little bun as he gazed at Amos, but he was still sweet and obedient.
He didn’t make a fuss.
He just laid down on Amos’s chest: “Okay…”
But the next moment, a colorful bag of candy landed in his arms.
The cub hugged it instinctively—he was so used to hugging Ghost Bear these days, it came naturally. He hadn’t brought Ghost Bear on this outing, but now he had a bag of candies, his eyes sparkling with delight.
“Baba?”
“It’s a reward.”
Amos tucked the candy bag into the cub’s hand.
Carrying him out of the medbay, he explained:
“It’s not your high-energy food—you can eat it only after your milk, understand?”
“Wooao! Baba, you’re the best Baba in the world!!”
The little one, in Amos’s arms, held his candy high, thrilled.
“Candy!”
Goodness.
How could he be this cute?
Everyone thought—even glad the live broadcast was already off.
If Holy Cas’s Crown Clan superfans saw Chu Zao like this, the starnet would’ve exploded all over again.
They quickly got back to work.
Amos carried Chu Zao to the lounge to await his milk.
The kid just had that magic—candy bag held high, he pulled the whole Crown Clan along.
Anya and Feiman competed to raise their status with him these days.
Ever-silent Hel watched as Amos left with the cub, then quietly followed, like a lighthouse or mountain guarding this not-yet-grown king.
Frey and Feeney were last out. Once out of sight, Feeney’s hollow laugh and unreliable grin fell away. Those smiling eyes were now wide and blank, his stray bangs casting deep shadow, turning him cold, like a machine.
Feeney spoke, slowly: “Big brother.”
Frey had been walking after Amos and turned back at the voice, raising his brow.
“What’s up?”
Feeney’s communicator was still broken—he’d borrowed Feiman’s—and as it lit up, he glanced at it, frowning even deeper.
“I’d planned to report to second brother, but Hel’s been by his side, I couldn’t find the chance.”
Feeney took out his ruined communicator—it was clearly crushed in his grip; the screen cracked and barely functional.
“This is video we found when we stumbled into Boel Revolutionary Army base—”
Feeney’s gaze darkened, the moody joker of earlier nowhere in sight.
“After we found it, I sent a third of our best troops at all speed to verify, using every means, pushing to our physical limits, convinced this video’s real. The Third Army ran into trouble; external comms down, only special internal lines working. They’ve reported just now—pollution is heavy, they dare not press further, but they’ve seen evidence of Hymn Organization activity—”
Frey frowned as he took the battered communicator and glanced at it.
After a few seconds, he looked up in shock.
Frey reflexively glanced toward Hel’s retreating back.
Once Hel was truly gone, he looked down sharply.
“It’s… Morlo?”
The footage showed a man, raving like a beast, covered in blood, clothes shredded beyond recognition, a wing snapped and bare of feathers, the halo above his head shattered, scraps drifting. He was like a walking nuclear bomb, unleashing his psychic pain in endless waves.
In the video, the man looked sharply at the camera—tall even under all that blood, a face still recognizably refined and gentle, beneath the horror.
It was clearly Morlo, who, in the chaos of the expanding corruption years ago, shattered his coronet and, after sending a wingless Hel home, vanished forever into pollution.
Hel’s partner!
But—how?!
Morlo’s halo was shattered—how does he still have a body?
“No, that’s not just beast blood, it’s his own.”
The Crown Clan’s final self-destruction has one purpose: to stop the uncontainable psychic energy from their broken coronet from detonating everything around. They self-destruct to avoid hurting others.
But Morlo was in a place hard to reach, and when the accident occurred and the comms failed, by the time Amos sensed something was wrong, both Morlo and Hel were nearly out of strength. Though they rushed over, they saved only Hel.
Then, Hel’s psychic state was extremely frail—Morlo’s would have been the same. He’d never been the strongest of the Crown Clan for psychic strength.
When they sensed Morlo’s coronet truly break, and confirmed his death, surely he was about to spark off a local cataclysm, dumping all that energy and destroying himself along with everything else. In some limited context, perhaps a subtle, accidental balance might be reached.
There had been research on all this before, but it was almost impossible for the Crown Clan—too many harsh conditions, too many disasters caused, and most importantly: even if every requirement were met, after shattering the coronet, there is no regaining reason, only mad consumption of everything, mind and body.
Until they finally burn out—at most lasting a few years. A hideous way to die.
But now, they had Zao Zao—
Frey gripped the communicator tightly, staring at Morlo’s ruined halo.
Different, something was different here.
What to do?
“Should we tell Brother Amos and check with Hel about his coronet? Best not to mention this to Hel just now—after all, Morlo’s coronet shattered long ago, it should be as good as death.”
Feeney said flatly.
“And if it goes on like this, Morlo will just keep suffering. We’d best put an end to it. As for Hel—better to let him think Morlo just died those years ago… Oh, right, the reason I tried to confirm was because this video is from half a year ago, found in Boel Revolution Army’s records—someone desperate braved the pollution zone to gather tainted elements and caught it by accident. Now, the current situation is unknown.”
Far out near the heavy pollution zone, the Holy Cas Third Army probed close as the taint kept growing.
Red lights blazed on the ship’s pollution alarms.
Beyond the boundary, the darkness was like dense fog, planets completely black, countless corrupted beasts howling, mutated into monsters, sometimes charging out to tear at anything that gets too close.
“No go, can’t get near the target zone. Too many beasts, the taint’s too heavy—damage to the ship too high. We’ll report to Lord Feeney again!”
Deeper still, under layers of pollution, thunder rumbled.
But in space, sound did not travel.
A tall figure staggered, twisted wings, body a bloody mess, eyes hollow, focused only on tearing apart the surrounding star beasts. He was plainly at the end of his power, the remnant of a halo barely holding above his head.
Staggering but never hesitating, he dealt with the beasts, then, feeling no pain, unfurled his twisted wings and took to the air, flying deeper in, destroying any monster in his way.
He had no consciousness, only one instinct—get further away, further yet.
*
On a drifter planet—
“This is today’s haul.”
A slightly shrunken girl slowly dragged two giant scales to a trader.
“Amazing—”
“Wasn’t she just a weakling not long ago? Now she can handle low-grade beasts?”
“She’s gifted—”
“Say, isn’t there a group recruiting talent? Will she be scouted?”
The gossip came to Shenghua’s ears.
She ignored it, counted out her credits from the shopkeeper, got up, then heard something and looked to the distant screen.
It was a live transmission from Holy Cas Empire—
On screen, a familiar tiny figure—standing in shadow, holding a flame-tipped bow, an arrow flying forth to join the power of other Crown Clan.
In the gloom, the small child’s face was cool, like the fiercest archer, his eyes shining.
Shenghua’s eyes unfocused, watching for a long time.
A voice sounded behind her.
“Envious? Don’t be. The long-lived races have squeezed out the space for people like us, monopolizing what should be the power of all. The Holy Cas people are fooled by the Crown Clan. You’re gifted. We’ve been watching you. Didn’t you want your own faction? We want to sponsor you. In this galaxy, only we help our own.”
Shenghua sensed the malice toward Zao Zao from the person behind, but hid her burning emotion, turning to glance at the hooded figure.
*
The Crown fleet had returned to the neutral planet.
Hel, due to his psychic and physical state, was sent for further exam; only then did Amos find out about Morlo.
This was a risk, even Amos wasn’t sure what to do.
But regardless, Morlo was kin, a brother.
Whatever the case—they had to confirm. If there was truly no hope, and their kin was still suffering such agony, Amos, as Crown Clan leader and Emperor of Holy Cas, had the responsibility to give Morlo eternal rest.
Thus the Holy Cas Empire’s best anti-taint starship was en route.
Until it arrived, they all agreed: best not to tell Hel, at least till he was more stable.
The neutral planet was now entirely under Holy Cas control, military everywhere.
Another night passed. Chu Zao, hugging Ghost Bear, waddled outside—again bundled thick, like a wobbly penguin, class over.
The cub had also, by Amos’s request, helped Hel teacher reinforce his coronet.
The coronet Zao Zao fixed up looked precarious, but was actually strong—just like Meilun and Kaman, whose psychic states had not changed so far.
But as Amos had asked, the obedient cub did as told.
He did worry about his often-distracted teacher.
So after all this, the cub sat with Amos’s psychic power in a corner of the training room.
Yesterday, due to Feeney’s report, they hadn’t had time.
Today, Feeney had been dragged into the training room by Amos.
Early morning—full of wailing.
Feeney was second only to Amos in power, yet weirdly unlucky, odd in personality, and no match for Amos—he got a solid beating.
He staggered, dazed, raging for heaven to judge guilt and innocence, then stared at Amos’s psychic sword.
“No, seriously, Second Brother—why is it—”
He squinted.
“Why does your psychic weapon seem different from when I left?”
Like… missing a piece?
Amos looked down at the bite marks on his sword hilt, and laughed.
“You’ll know soon enough.”
Know what soon enough?
“I thought it was a hint for you to go easy on me.”
Feeney limped to the corner grumbling, then heard a weird, spine-tingling crunching sound.
So odd—it made his scalp prickle—
Feeney instinctively glanced over—saw the cub, bundled like a ball, curled in the shadows, wings folded, holding something with his head down, gnawing away.
Gnawing something—
Feeney looked away, then snapped back in horror.
That thing in the cub’s hands… wasn’t it the psychic weapon that looked just like Second Brother’s…??
The bundled little cub sat in the shadows, crunching away on Amos’s psychic sword, only his golden halo and big, shining eyes visible, the sword in his hands riddled with bite marks, glowing with a faint light.
The Crown Clan’s second best, Feeney, instinctively took two steps back—he’d never feared anything, wild as the wind, but now felt his body go weak, especially the halo he’d just put away.
Help!
What kind of horror story is this!!