The little cub vaguely felt he’d seen a similar psychic thread before, when Grandma left, just before he cried himself to sleep.
That psychic thread disappeared too quickly, and its color was so faint he could barely notice it—the little one hadn’t been able to track the source.
But he soon spotted Ayala’s psychic thread.
Zao Zao Navigation was back online.
Well rested, the little one was full of energy, all six little wings still unfolded behind him, making him extra fluffy.
He pointed in that direction—“Over there, Baba, over there.”
Amos carried the cub, Feiman following behind, heading toward where the little one pointed.
At this moment, Ayala gripped his own psychic weapon. A heap of beasts already lay at his feet, the powerfully built Crown Clan member radiating coldness.
His brows were dark; the whole man looked like chilled stone. When he heard voices, he glanced up, staring blankly at the especially fluffy cub for a moment.
His coronet was clearly in poor shape.
But compared to Crown Clan of the previous generation, he could still hold out. He instinctively turned toward the barrier’s rift where more beasts were crawling through.
No way…they came here for him?
Ayala thought—
He’d never shown the little one much kindness; last time he’d given him an injection, the cub had avoided him for ages, still not really willing to talk to him.
Different from Anya.
Don’t be fooled by Ayala’s icy exterior—because he refused to build close ties and always acted alone, he was, in truth, a coward. If Zao Zao showed the slightest sign of rejection, he would retreat a hundred paces without hesitation.
Amos brought the cub down beside Ayala.
Nearly seven now, Zao Zao had grown a great deal this year.
If he hadn’t been sent over so small, and if Crown Clan weren’t all so tall—Amos might not be able to carry him much longer.
Amos mused, looking at his own cub with slight regret, but didn’t put him down, landing at Ayala’s side.
“Want some help?”
Ayala had left such a strong impression last time that Zao Zao was still a little afraid of him, but even so, the cub stretched out his hand on the dim planet lit only by drone lights, his little gold coronet gleaming as he asked in a tiny voice.
Ayala hesitated.
He still hadn’t processed the offer, bashing another beast down with his staff, before turning back to look at Zao Zao.
As awkward as ever—especially with Amos and Feiman watching.
He opened his mouth, forceful answer ready, but after two seconds there was no momentum left.
“…No need.”
The cub listened, watching Ayala head off to deal with more beasts, blinking his big eyes at Ayala’s coronet.
With the cub’s protection, the whole Crown Clan was doing fairly well, everyone’s mental state fairly stable.
Ayala was basically the worst-off among them.
And Baba had said it—this place was dangerous.
Completely protected by Amos’s psychic power, the cub looked at Ayala, then at Amos.
“Uncle’s not very honest.”
The soft little cub said to Amos quietly, totally serious and innocent.
“He’s clearly in pain.”
To Crown Clan’s sharp senses, this was crystal clear.
Ayala stiffened, unable to help looking back, staring at the little one who so naively and earnestly called him out.
Amos stroked the cub’s head and looked at Ayala.
“Ayala.”
Amos’s voice was calm, his long years in command lending him an unmistakable air of authority.
“This is a battlefield. Are you a child too?”
Ayala: “…“
In the end, Ayala replied softly, finally approaching.
Then the little one continued quietly: “Zao Zao is a kid, but Zao Zao is honest.”
Not-honest·Ayala: …
Feiman’s cold face softened in a faint smile at the cub’s words.
Amos put the cub down.
His psychic power expanded, instantly shielding the whole area.
Giving his cub space to move freely.
He watched as the cub circled Ayala twice, tiptoed, and stretched out a hand to test.
This time the cub remembered his wings. His little wings fluttered and he floated up a bit, but on these polluted planets, only beasts could survive—no other normal creature could.
Everywhere was black, white, and gray—dust on the ground, barriers in the distance, small lighting drones flying with beating wings, sometimes breaking down with a sizzle, new ones flying out from the mothership to replace them.
So when the cub took off, dust flew everywhere—especially with six wings flapping together—
He had to land, and looked back at his wings—
With four wings, Zao Zao hadn’t noticed much, but now with six, all neat and pretty from Amos’s careful grooming, the cub couldn’t help admiring them.
He waved his hand to clear the haze, then beckoned Ayala over.
“Uncle, squat down.”
Ayala at last complied, squatting before the tiny cub, lowering his gaze, even his head.
The ferocious, beastly man now looked awkwardly gentle in front of a cub.
As if the cub had climbed onto his head and pulled his hair, poked his scars, and he had to be careful not to drop him.
A strange feeling.
So used to solitude, Ayala just felt out of place all over.
Meanwhile, Amos and Feiman received new messages.
They looked at their communicators.
It was from the Holy Cas group army, but not the Ninth that came inside—it was Frey’s group.
Amos paused on the message, then looked at the cub.
Quick to notice, the cub looked back, puzzled: “Baba, what’s wrong?”
“One of your little friends is in trouble. He’s a half-blood—Soul Clan bloodline seems hard to stabilize. They’re asking to use the power control room.”
Zao Zao froze.
It was—Chao Huangmu!
Big Brother Mu.
“What’s wrong with Brother Mu? Is he okay?”
He was one of the cub’s closest friends; Zao Zao grew anxious, blinking big eyes at Amos.
Beyond the corruption, on Holy Cas’s warship—
Inside the sealed power restriction chamber, it was pitch black. Chao Huangmu, under deep restraint, at last quieted to sit still, slowly regulating his breath and strength.
Outside, their instructor, Peng Liang and Yun Songquan, all waited.
Neither had yet left Holy Cas Prime, and hearing that Chao Huangmu had been brought back and showed signs of psychic instability, they hurried over.
“How is it?”
Their instructor looked at the door.
“Stabilized?”
“About. He’s mixed blood, but you’d never seen him show any real immortal blood before—did he run into Hymn people this time? Draw out his power? Still shouldn’t be like this—this is a chamber reserved for the highnesses, yet it only barely keeps him in check?”
Holy Cas soldiers handling the case hesitated.
“Why is his power still growing? Isn’t he just a little immortal-blooded, at most getting better health and lifespan—but this looks like—”
It didn’t look like “just a little”.
Chao Huangmu huddled in one corner, clutching his head, wild images flashing by and vanishing quickly while a hoarse voice tried to take control.
Soul Clan psychic power was special, also externalized like the Crown Clan’s, but had the darkest instincts. So Soul Clan were like soda bottles with loose caps, easily shaken into an explosion.
Chao Huangmu had usually stayed in control.
But this time, after being drawn out and forced back, it burst out again—
He can’t go on this way.
He clenched candies and gems in his palm, the usually bright, sunny boy now looking like a scolded puppy, his whole face drooping.
—It’s dangerous. He’d become dangerous, unable to stay by the little highness.
No, press it down—press it down once more.
Chao Huangmu forced his psyche down, curling up, trying to calm himself.
“Looks like he is stabilizing,” one Holy Cas soldier noted, patting their instructor.
“Should be fine now, but he’ll need monitoring going forward.”
Amos received the report.
“Looks like nothing too serious.”
Amos told the cub.
Trueborn Holy Cas people had subtly different genes from ordinary humans; their temperament bordered on fanatic, devoted to the Crown Clan.
Every so often, they’d adopt approved drifter children—like Chao Huangmu and others.
Growing up in such an environment, they quickly assimilated, and Holy Cas genes were strong—within a few generations, even mixed children were fully assimilated.
So Holy Cas’s tolerance for assimilated people was high.
“Once this is all done, Zao Zao can see Brother Mu again.”
The cub felt a little reassured.
He turned back just in time to see Ayala looking icy.
Who knew what had crossed his mind?
As the cub reached out and took Ayala’s coronet in hand.
Ayala shuddered, then lifted his head, and finally blurted—“Even for immortals, it’s a fragile race.”
The Soul Clan were rather like the Crown Clan in this respect.
Chu Zao’s psychic power released, his golden coronet shining, big eyes on Ayala.
“Here—here lie my dearest friends—”
Ayala’s mind drifted; he’d been here so long, the words finally coming out.
Feiman glanced over.
Ayala was their cousin, only a little older, once a lively member of the First Legion; to Holy Cas people, he’d been close as kin, relishing their company, until the legion was annihilated and suddenly he was left alone.
—Including family.
Suddenly, nothing was left close by.
For an ordinary person, just one slip and you could go mad.
That year, Ayala had only just come of age, not exactly a mature Crown Clan.
It all happened too suddenly. Ayala was left silent.
No one judged him—before Chu Zao appeared, all Crown Clan had lived in despair and pain.
But Ayala had gone too far hiding, stretching himself to the breaking point, running wildly through the stars. As family, they couldn’t help wanting to pull him back.
Ayala gripped his psychic staff. Always rejecting this kind of bond and refusing to remember. Fighting beasts alone, his body now trembled.
There had been no result.
In the end, they just died here.
“There’s no one left who can remember all their names—too many, far too many—those names—”
Ayala shut his eyes.
The wails, sobs, screams of those loved ones’ kin, seemed ever before him.
Ayala’s time froze in that instant.
Even now, the gears hadn’t turned again in his heart.
He had tried to forget that agony.
He thought he was prepared.
The fate of immortal and mortal lifespans.
But everything happened so fast, too fast—even worse than he’d imagined.
Maybe it was a street they walked on Holy Cas Prime together, maybe a type of weather, or a word.
With shattered coronets and endless pain, all of this had crushed the Crown Clan senseless.
“They were heroes—”
But he dared not be as he once was.
So in the end, what was even left?
“But, uncle—”
Little Chu Zao looked at Ayala. Under his hand, the breakage of Ayala’s coronet slowly eased, then ceased. The cub’s strength grew again, and he gathered up the fragments drifting near Ayala’s coronet, sticking them back with his own psychic power.
“You want to forget their names, uncle? Forget them entirely?”
Ayala’s coronet felt relief not seen in a thousand years.
He looked up at the little cub.
“In the Angel Realm, the archangel and angels are all gone, but Zao Zao will tell people, will remember them, and in the end, they too wanted Zao Zao to grow up well.”
The little one withdrew his hand, his eyes caught by a sudden glint nearby.
The words he hadn’t yet spoken.
Were they like when Zao Zao said goodbye to the angels—what the angels had told him?
Ayala didn’t know, but obviously a few words couldn’t shake him; he only looked at the cub more gently, then stood, psychic pressure lightened, his pain fading.
“Yes, someone will surely remember them.”
Ayala said nothing more, lifting his psychic staff, preparing to act again—
Near the barrier, faint light made the nearly invisible barrier visible.
The beasts growled and rustled, tasting the sweetness of flesh and blood, madly trying to cross.
The barriers were pitted and uneven, barely blocking the worst of the corruption.
Other than the beasts, all around was quiet.
Amos raised his psychic sword, Feiman gripped her spear, both glancing toward the barrier.
But the cub was still wondering what had just caught his eye.
Shing! He suddenly, as Ayala spun in alarm, took off his coronet.
“Zao Zao remembers—”
He thought for a moment, raised his coronet, and let his psychic power pulse—
The parents all watched as the little one’s golden psychic coronet blazed suddenly.
Brightness-control.JPG
Amos, Feiman, Ayala: …?
The cub tugged Amos’s coat, holding up the coronet, murmuring in awe.
“It really works like this?”
So you’re experimenting too?!
The little cub looked up.
“Baba, there’s something over there, let’s go see—”
The group followed Chu Zao.
His coronet lit the way, and the intelligent drones, detecting this, also upped their lumens, illuminating the surroundings.
In the distance, the barrier was like a jagged Great Wall.
All around was a chorus of beast shuffles—right ahead, as light swept forward, far off—the dust was swept from fragments of metal by the stamping beasts, and those shards briefly glinted back.
Ayala and Feiman’s eyes widened; they saw—a legion lost meant many warships.
They’d found occasional starship wrecks before, but always heavily damaged, just scraps.
They had thought the First Legion’s remains had long since been devoured by corruption.
But now—those far-off mounds weren’t hills, but starship wreckage buried in dirt—Holy Cas’s First Legion insignia now shrouded in dim ash, in the land of endless corruption—
And atop the ruins, a barrier had been constructed—blocking the corruption, protecting them.
Why did it seem like Crown Clan psychic power, yet not exactly?
Because, as they died, every Holy Cas soldier used their final psychic strength to build one last barrier for their homeland—for their empire. From the fields where the legion had crashed, the barrier had slowly stretched and spread, only holding till now, newly discovered and barely holding on.
A barrier born of flesh upon the ruins!
The Crown Clan’s focus all shifted to the wreckage; no one noticed the wavering scarlet flames that silently lit beyond the barrier. The howls stopped. The beasts seemed to know to avoid this place, many skittering away, all falling silent. The colossus simply stared, mindless, led by instinct.
He stared blankly at the cub with the coronet—the twin fires in his eyes suddenly flaring, flaming even without awareness. He tilted his head, unable to comprehend.
And the little one, still using the coronet as a lamp, examining the area, hadn’t noticed at all the attention fixed on him.
“So this stretching barrier is—” and the final force that forms it—
Feiman suddenly turned, looking at the warped, uneven barrier, her gaze following it till she met the blazing scarlet fires.
Crown Clan vision was keen, their night sight strong; previously, dust covered everything, making things unclear. In the gloom, it was easy to mistake these forms for ordinary hills, until the beasts tried to claw through cracks and the heavy debris fell away.
Now, looming behind them, a colossal bulk hovered, wings beating in silence, fixed upon them.
In the dark starry void, it was as if two flickering red lanterns had been lit.
“Baba, that psychic thread—”
The cub, tilting up his head, followed the psychic thread that had suddenly appeared, and caught sight beyond the barrier of a monstrous being big enough to swallow many of him. The sight froze him—he was caught off guard, six little wings all flaring in alarm, transforming him into a round ball of fluff.
Ayala was already paralyzed.
Amos gripped his psychic sword, calmly assessing the dangerous giant he now faced.
Feiman stepped forward, unable to see clearly, the beast’s mass so battered, a lump of flesh and blood—no idea what drove it on.
“Is it Grandpa?”
Feiman’s fingers clenched, her face still cool and calm, but suddenly bloodshot at the eyes.
The Crown Clan are strong and proud, especially adult Crown Clan, rarely showing so much as a catch in their low voices.
“Grandpa spoiled Mama most—”
Was it because he sensed Solan’s spirit, that he came here?
Was Grandpa…still alive? Was it Grandpa, after all? She couldn’t tell anymore—not a trace of the original Crown Clan remained.
But if it really was him, then this time…it should’ve been her here…it should’ve been her, Grandpa.
maybe if their grandpa shrinks, they can cure him