Cub 103: Whose Good Baby Is This?

Power began to erupt from a single point, as if the calm sea surface was finally starting to boil. Everything ahead seemed to clear the way for this one arrow.

Black flames ignited explosively, setting the barrier in front of the Archangel ablaze. The surroundings felt as if they belonged to the realm of black fire. At last, those flames touched the mesh of flesh that tethered his body. In that instant, a sizzling and crumbling, corrupting sound rang out.

It was only now, with nowhere to hide, that the Archangel realized—it wasn’t just his own power collapsing.

The many wings behind him wilted like dying flowers, feathers falling one by one. In another space, the ‘deity’ opened only a single eye, the pupil slightly shifting, its greedy gaze moving slowly from Amos and Little Chu Zao in the distance to the now panicked Archangel.

At this moment, that giant blood-red eye still watched the scene with the amusement of a spectator, viewing everything as insignificant insects—whether it was Amos and the little cub in the distance, or the “angels” of the Angel Realm who had usurped their place.

He only needed to invoke despair and seize power, indifferent to what these creatures thought or felt. Whether they revered him or resisted, to him, none of it mattered.

“No, no—I can still—I once successfully seized an angel’s power, no—I can keep going—”

The Archangel’s body and power were collapsing. The divine gift stone he called the leeching stone was also shattering, its edges distorting space.

Meanwhile, the rift behind him began spreading toward him. The polluted power that had given him shelter now instead suppressed his movements, slowly melting and breaking him down—

To watch his own body break down once again was a feeling both long and terrifying.

Of course, in reality, this was but a few blinks of an eye—yet to the Archangel, it seemed endless.

He struggled to look at the small cub over there, who had unfolded six wings.

Six-winged angel—

The facade he had gone to so much effort to construct was easily grasped by this little thing.

Perhaps it was that life was ending, but before his eyes, memories from the past flickered like lantern slides.

There he was, proud and self-satisfied, only to hear a report from other angels: a different little angel had been born in the Angel Spring—not only was the coronet different, the power was as well. The Archangel was certain that this was an uncontrollable mutation.

But he was an angel—an angel recognized by the Angel Scepter, the true master of the Angel Realm. In that moment, there was nothing the Archangel could do about this small child born with a name.

Uncontrollable, unable to be deceived or indoctrinated—if grown successfully, once knowing the truth, he would be the doom of all angels in the Angel Realm. They could neither truly welcome him nor conceal the fact that they’d replaced the angels.

In that moment, the Archangel drew this conclusion.

The immature cub slept drowsily in the cradle. The Archangel would watch over him from above, quietly plotting: I will kill his soul a little at a time.

So the Archangel watched the little one cast off his coronet to fit in, rein in his temper to fit in, crying in disappointment time and again, suffering injury and exclusion, shivering in fear.

Each time, the coronet grew grayer.

The Archangel trembled in exhilaration—he had finally cast a shadow over this gem, dazzling from its first appearance.

Yet in the end, that dimmed power of love and peace became the faraway, sharp and forceful arrow that lashed out at him.

Countless points of light that rose from beneath the Angel Realm also began to shred his power and body, while myriad shining flecks drifted like dandelion seeds throughout the Angel Realm, landing on those monsters who tried to escape, who had played at make-believe for a hundred years, tearing them apart.

All of it was the long-suppressed power of the original inhabitants of the Angel Realm, buried here.

The little wings behind Little Chu Zao fluttered. He sensed something amiss but hadn’t time to turn—big eyes stared intently at the Archangel steeped in corrupted power.

“No, impossible—” The Archangel reached out in fury, his gaze fixed on Little Chu Zao in horror, roaring in agony, all pretense lost, “That’s impossible—”

But in the next instant, his voice was cut off.

At that moment, everything was silent; all sound seemed to be absorbed by the divine gift stone’s space-twisting eruption. Nothing could be heard.

Behind the Archangel, space expanded for a moment, like a guillotine, and with a snap, completely severed his body—a chilling and bizarre sight amid the stillness.

Especially those blood-red eyes hidden behind his back, but the rift had no chance to widen further. With the Archangel’s death, it began to close; their power could not reach inside. That pair of greedy eyes was slowly shutting, still yearning for flesh and blood at the last instant.

“Baba…”

Little Chu Zao was held by Amos, looking up at him.

“What exactly was that? Is that…the source of corruption?”

Amos had already tried—no power here could harm those eyes.

Nor could the points of light reach there—

It must be so.

The source of corruption.

The Crown Clan, after thousands of years losing nearly all their people, remained trapped in this nightmare to this day.

Amos slowly tightened his grip on the psionic long sword in his hand.

Countless divine gift stones linked into a massive spatiotemporal disturbance, a vague image of the starry sky beginning to appear.

The Angel Realm was collapsing. Its residents had perished centuries ago and was replaced.

Those radiances, after one final burst, were slowly fading as well.

The thing could not be dealt with now, but they were drawing closer. It was time to go home.

So Amos thought.

Just then, a massive glow gradually appeared before them, a gentle golden light slowly assuming the form of an androgynous figure, long hair spilling down their back, fading to translucence at the tips, a halo flickering faintly overhead, six nascent wings spreading from behind.

This was the original Archangel of the Angel Realm.

He simply watched the little cub in silence for a long moment, then smiled gently.

“Chu—that is the name passed down by the Archangel’s line.”

The voice was ethereal, as if it would vanish any second.

As the little cub stood lost and flustered, he quietly recounted, in a few words—the day they discovered a stranger, eerily appearing by their Angel Spring. They imagined it was a different kind of little angel. Angels were kind, pure, and powerful—they were counterparts of the Crown Clan, handling forces in the stars that grew too great. Their only link to the wider cosmos was the Crown Clan’s planet, with other places like the Angel Realm also tying to the immortal races.

Too isolated, they were too trusting and naive. They tried to raise the stranger, only to be quietly drained of power, day after day, by that so-called leeching stone. In the end, the entire group was replaced, all angels dying as their power ran dry. The impostors succeeded in taking over, and the Angel Realm made no response, instead passing smoothly into their hands.

There was little they could leave behind; soon, no one in this world would even remember them.

The cub was a baby sent from the Crown Clan’s homeworld. Though his psionic power and bloodline were decidedly Crown Clan, he had been born from the Angel Spring and had angelic traits. By then, the full replacement had happened long before; the Angel Spring could only instinctively grant him the surname of the Archangel.

“It was our failure—”

He spoke softly.

“We failed to let you be born and raised in love.”

He glanced toward Amos beside him.

It was as if he let out the faintest sigh—Why can’t a foster child be treated as your own?

“I—”

The little cub hesitated, awkward and uncertain, staring at the figure.

Even a lingering force on the verge of dissipating could feel things—

“Such corruption is beyond us. The Angel Realm has lost its purpose for existing. All suffer beneath such strength; take the Angel Spring’s source stone and return. It will help, perhaps, Zao Zao, perhaps you are truly different. Let us—”

As he spoke, countless faint and bright motes gathered behind him, chasing like stars to settle on the little golden coronet.

“At last, a coronation for you—”

Little one born of the Crown Clan, who once came to the Angel Realm—and the last angel recognized by all the angels—

All this radiance wished to gather on you.

It was all these desperate forces could do, so deep underground.

Little Chu Zao only felt his weakened strength gradually fill up again. The cupid’s bow in his hand subtly changed, growing sharper and less rounded.

The cub’s coronet shone brilliantly.

“Zao Zao will remember you.”

Little Chu Zao gripped his little bow, and as Amos shielded him, tucking his small head to his chest, he spoke to them.

Those sorrowful emotions—

The dissipating powers seemed stunned for a moment.

In the very end, Little Chu Zao, exhausted and having experienced too much in recent days, nestled in Amos’s embrace, took in his scent, and slowly closed his eyes, falling into a deep restorative sleep.

Just before he slipped fully into slumber, the coronet atop his head flickered gently, and Little Chu Zao heard the final voices of the angels.

“Nice to meet you, little angel.”

“Grow up well…goodbye.”

At last, the cub curled into Amos’s arms, drifting into deep sleep.

Amos glanced down: the silver and black coronet shielded the golden coronet nestled in his arms, his formidable psychic power tearing through encroaching space as he returned to the stars.

Among the stars—

Feiman and Feeney were flitting about the corrupted border like headless flies.

The two of them, along with the other Crown Clan members, couldn’t help getting anxious.

Why was there no news?

Amos lost contact?

Amos holding Zao Zao lost contact?!

For the Crown Clan, Amos going missing was one thing.

After all, considering His Majesty’s power, nothing could possibly happen to him.

But Amos going missing together with Zao Zao—

To these Crown Clan so focused on their only cub:—No, Zao Zao!!

Meanwhile, in a corrupted zone, space twisted and trembled. Something seemed about to break through.

That power radiated in a split second, almost reaching another strange starfield.

Amongst the wreckage of countless ruined starships, a giant, mountain-like figure, huge and bloody, lay hidden. His body was enormous, battered and disheveled, in many places showing white bone, smoke circling the crown of his head.

At the touch of that power, two tufts of blood-red flame suddenly blazed up from the mountain-giant. In that instant, he turned his head, gazing in a certain direction, unleashing an earth-shattering roar—

In another distant zone, a desperate, ragged tribe were forced to watch their kin being devoured. They, too, seemed to hear that roar and unconsciously looked to the horizon.

*

Little Chu Zao slept quietly.

The little one’s power surged constantly. His body could not bear such might and was forced to adapt, suppressing some strength to reach a new balance.

In sleep, the cub’s psionic power seemed drawn along, colliding with a warm force.

What was this feeling?

Little Chu Zao did not quite understand.

But from Amos’s point of view, the little one’s coronet kept flashing, carrying a familiar aura.

Amos, carrying the cub, landed on the polluted planet, feeling unsettled. He spread his wings, ready to leave with the little one and find a place that could get a signal from the Holy Cas Empire—

It was just then that Amos sensed that familiar aura.

A kind of long-missed familiarity.

Amos hesitated, glancing down at the uneasy, sleeping cub in his arms.

And the little one truly did hear a familiar voice.

“Zao Zao.”

The voice was gentle, clear and soft.

“System?”

The cub immediately recognized it.

Yes.

He had been sent by the homeworld to the Angel Realm to be born. Both Angel Spring and Angel Scepter had been tricked, but still did their duty, and brought him forth. But until he returned, until Baba found him at home, he didn’t know where the system’s voice truly came from.

Every race was different, and the Crown Clan’s homeworld was unique. The little cub thought a moment, then softly asked, “Are you the consciousness of the homeworld planet?”

His psionic strength gently brushed against the other’s force, nuzzling affectionately.

Such a warm power.

“Why did you call yourself a system?”

“Homeworld?”

The gentle voice seemed to smile.

“Our Crown Clan baby is really quick-thinking; you’ll be a clever child someday.”

Little Chu Zao was taken aback.

Wasn’t it so?

“Why a system? Zao Zao, this name was given to you by your homeworld, hoping you’d shine bright like seaweed, always glowing. But the homeworld can do nothing now. It has been corrupted and drained, and can do little now. The Crown Clan walks slowly down the road of death, growing ever more desperate, often peaking in despair as they die.”

The force spoke again.

“We are constantly tempted toward despair and surrender by a force seemingly from the depths of the universe. Even as we die and return to the homeworld, we’re suppressed, forced to watch our children repeat the road of despair; it only grows worse—yet the monster grows more and more excited and reckless. Even now, it revels in our pain and hopelessness, basking in it and orchestrating everything—”

Little Chu Zao’s eyes slowly widened—that monster.

And… watching the next generation?

Was the system the consciousness of a Crown Clan ancestor?

“I was always hesitant before, unsure how to introduce myself, because I too walked into despair, like those you rescued, Zao Zao.”

The voice continued.

“Perhaps—Zao Zao, maybe you’ve heard my name from that rascal Amos.”

Little Chu Zao’s psionic strength was gently caressed.

“You should call me Grandma.”

This was Solan, once Amos’s mother, now a Crown Clan returned to the homeworld in pain—Little Chu Zao’s grandmother, long dead in despair.

Grandma?

The cub’s eyes widened.

He listened as Solan recounted all the homeworld had done.

The homeworld could no longer create cubs; it could only gather psionic power bit by bit from the Crown Clan, and ultimately, like before, used Amos’s power to create a tiny Crown Clan baby. But it had no way for the cub to be born.

It could only send the little one to the Angel Realm, the Crown Clan’s counterpart, to be born and raised.

But as the Holy Chalice Clan had once remarked, each race has something unique.

The homeworld caught glimpses of the cub’s future, seeing the fall of Holy Cas, and the Crown Clan’s demise.

It also saw the little one, birthed with such care, being raised that certain way.

At last, as the homeworld sent the baby away, it allowed the last trace of Solan’s consciousness to follow, clinging to the cub’s coronet.

Only waiting for the next surge in strength, to bring the little one home.

“I was too weak,”

Solan said softly.

“And after death, I was numb to everything. I wondered, how could anything be so painful—until I saw you. But Grandma…could do nothing. After seeing you arrive safely, all I could do was fall into slumber, waiting for the homeworld’s call.”

Solan used her last wisp of spirit to embrace the cub’s psyche.

She had died already, a Crown Clan with little strength left.

The homeworld, after all this, was also fully depleted.

“So Grandma believes in you, though she’s a little hesitant.”

Solan said.

“A useless grandma like this—perhaps shouldn’t present herself to Zao Zao like this, leaving such a memory. But Grandma is leaving. Just as I said—you can do it; Grandma has always believed in you.”

Solan had originally planned to come and go lightly, just like a normal system, leaving no trace of herself behind for the little one. Maybe, someday, Zao Zao would hear from Amos and others about the brave, strong Grandma Solan—that would be a wonderful image, right?

But in the end, she couldn’t help herself—this was their hard-won, first little treasure born after thousands of years.

The little cub trembled faintly.

Little Chu Zao seemed to hesitate for a long time, then finally said in a small voice,

“Grandma?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Grandma. Though Grandma wasn’t much help, she was always by Zao Zao’s side. Now let that rascal Amos protect you.”

Solan laughed softly.

“He probably won’t lose his way now. There should be a happy ending, right…? Those who died in agony, unrelieved—Zao Zao, could you—let us be freed from this suffering?”

Her included.

Amid pollution, looted, suppressed, tormented in pain and despair, never resting even in death.

But now, grow up well, and walk to the end, onto a new path even the homeworld cannot see—

“Grandma, were you—the one who spoke to Zao Zao when he was even younger?”

Little Chu Zao couldn’t help asking, drawn by the familiarity.

Solan’s soft laughter answered; she gently nudged the cub’s mind, withdrawing from his coronet, even playfully bumping into Amos’s power.

The cub’s once anxious brow slowly smoothed, as if back to the time when Solan had been sent by the homeworld together with him to the Angel Realm.

Just before she finally went to sleep inside the cub’s coronet,

She gently rocked the baby’s cradle, humming in hope and tenderness beneath the shimmering light of the Angel Realm—“Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, cradle gently rocks and sways. Whose good baby is this?”

How did that rascal end up with such a lovely, well-behaved little angel?

She truly couldn’t figure it out, how hateful—

So unwilling, really—

Why was their time together so short?

Beneath Amos’s gaze—

Little Chu Zao finally struggled to open his eyes, tears brimming in his big eyes, rolling down uncontrollably.

“Grandma, Baba, it’s Grandma—”

He reached out, hugging Amos’s neck tightly, his warm, damp little face pressed to Amos’s chest, sobbing quietly—the little Crown Clan cub, grown up, looking back, striving to recall memories forgotten when too small.

He’d always thought he had nothing when he was little.

But—

“Baba, when Zao Zao was little…when Zao Zao was little, he didn’t have nothing…” He did have something, from the very start; he actually knew it, just that he was too little and he’d forgotten.

On that afternoon before the Archangel arrived, that once-departed spirit came to a strange place and, before fading into slumber, gently pushed the cradle with the last trace of strength, quietly murmuring—

‘Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, cradle gently rocks and sways. Whose…good baby is this…’