In the stillness of space, shards scattered in all directions.
For the members of the Holy Sanctuary—it was yet another new understanding.
Frey watched the fragments, quietly hovering in the small vortex formed from the piled debris he’d created.
The floating detritus of this starfield was so thick that it easily obscured Frey’s vision.
Yet Frey remained utterly meticulous from start to finish, not even his hair was mussed.
Standing in the vortex he’d stirred up, he seemed lost in thought, then said lightly:
“And in the Dwight family, I’m not even good at fighting.”
Frey’s crown above his head was dissipating—
But at that moment, Frey paused a little.
At this same moment.
Several mental wings beat behind him, and slender, snake-like aberrant beasts, almost blended with the starfield, were hidden all around, pairs of beast eyes glinting faintly.
An Aberrant Beast high commander, relatively close and on fairly good terms, was sitting in a chair behind them, observing.
High commanders were cruel, cunning, cold-hearted creatures.
There was always the possibility of one devouring another, “good terms” meant little; but the sudden emergence of Holy Cas had made even these posed relationships seem more real.
“Hurricane.”
One of the commanders spoke first.
“That really was just pure psionic power, right?”
“Yes, it’s truly astonishing psionic power.”
Hurricane was a snake-beast, tail and eyelids adorned with patches of emerald scales, pale golden, faintly glowing eyes exerting a strong pressure from the dark—the look of a viper waiting to strike.
“No matter how many times I watch, his weapon—can you form such a weapon from psionic power?”
“I tried. No.”
“I thought so. Still, good thing those idiots in the Gesen Empire don’t understand any of this, so they can be our test subjects for this odd fellow’s depth.”
Hurricane flicked his tongue, smoothing its jaw.
“To be honest, it’s definitely strong, but not as overwhelmingly as before. It seems only a handful of them are really that fearsome. What’s more, they’re more sensitive to pollution than the locals—perhaps we could lay some traps, lure them out and pick them off one by one? Isn’t the supposedly impenetrable barrier almost broken? More ships are appearing over there; we should use this chance, hijack what we can, and see how those people react. Also, this one—”
Hurricane pointed at the screen, at Frey’s face, tapping lightly.
“I think I can handle—”
Before the words were finished, Frey, paused in the vortex, made his move.
“What’s wrong?”
Another high commander, more cautious, shot up at the sudden, violent static on the screen.
The last thing on the flickering screen was Frey’s cold eyes, as if meeting theirs through space.
Hurricane was momentarily stunned; he fell silent a few seconds.
“…Ah, the probe’s broken.”
Those pale golden beast eyes filled with cruelty and violence.
“All right, maybe he’s stronger than I thought. Hah, are these things even human?”
Aberrant Beasts don’t share knowledge; they compete, so most are unaware of the Crown Clan, especially high commanders evolved later without outside constraint.
“Who knows.”
Another high commander replied.
“But speaking of which—where did Stormdrain go? Why so quiet for so long?”
Hurricane flicked his tongue, restless. Behind him, a pile of corpses and bones gave off a heavy putrid stench that seemed to permeate every inch of these beasts.
“Him…? We can’t track each other, but for as cautious as Stormdrain is, he’d never be the first to approach these weirdos.”
“Didn’t mean that exactly.”
Hurricane said offhand, then disappeared in a flash.
“Just that this guy hasn’t shown up or even scouted for days—I really don’t know what he’s after, but no matter. I have my own plan.”
With those words, Hurricane headed for the formerly impassable barrier.
Some commanders knew about the barrier, some only heard rumors—no one had crossed it; most deemed that starfield a waste of effort, afraid that a move would let other beasts profit.
Only now did Hurricane decide to take a look.
Elsewhere, in a forbidden Aberrant Beast ground, came a series of twisted roars.
Originally a bird-type commander, Stormdrain now looked like a bird with shattered wings, flailing on the ground, feathers torn from his own body, face twisted.
He twisted and rolled in agony; his lower body was fused to a monstrous rock—swollen with red protuberances, forming the pattern of unblinking eyes.
Stormdrain was fused to it, vast power pouring into him, merging, breaking, and reforming his body, blood streaming out, body twisted, power surging, spawning extra limbs that shouldn’t exist.
What had been almost humanoid was now a terrifying new monster, and it wasn’t over yet.
Above him, at the very peak, a massive, snowy white skeleton still stood, its backbone snapped and collapsed by some immense force.
The remnant aura clung to the bones, but was dissipating, the bones themselves losing their luster.
On closer look, it seemed the skeleton had repressed the stone Stormdrain found for who knew how many years.
Around were other white bones, all still, all facing instinctively toward their leader.
Countless beats had perished here; a brutal war from which none returned, and so, even now, it was a place of utter fear.
Stormdrain suddenly opened his eyes, giving a hoarse, animalistic screech.
Strange race…
Mighty power… Must possess it all.
Must destroy those people—Aberrant Beasts cannot repeat the past.
Meanwhile, Frey pushed deeper, charting the energies and laying out the starmap, disregarding the Gesen Empire’s total mobilization, proceeding exactly per plan.
For Gesen and their sycophants, Holy Cas’s fleet treated them like they were a mere drifter planet along the way, with no intention of avoiding or negotiating.
As for what came after?
Amos clearly still hadn’t vented enough—those matters were for Amos to handle.
Frey stood at the command deck, watching Chu Zao, neat-feathered and sleeping soundly on the bed.
The boy’s face was half-buried in the pillow, his wings drooped, the golden crown dim—a sure sign of “shut down.”
This breakthrough seemed a qualitative leap for him.
No wonder his fever was still fierce.
The youth’s delicate, pretty face was flushed, fever patch on his forehead. Amos stayed at his side.
“Isn’t it time to change his fever patch?”
Frey watched a long while, then asked.
“He looks really out of it. Shouldn’t we move him back to the medical bay?”
“No need. Compared to the last two days, it’s under control. This patch was just applied; the medics say not to change too often.”
Amos sat by the bed, dealing with documents.
Silence fell again.
The only noises were when Chu Zao, restless, tried to tug the patch off and was stopped by Amos.
Frey watched in silence, and the Holy Cas soldiers behind him kept sneaking glances as well.
—How does the little highness, nearly grown, still sleep so adorably?
The little highness is undeniably the Crown Clan’s cutest, their “puppy phase” so long.
Though this generation of Holy Cas hadn’t seen nearly as many Crown Clan cubs as their forebears, they’d seen this one—and he was always adorable—always adorable.
How could there be such a precious little highness in the world?!
In the midst of these thoughts, Frey spoke up coldly.
“Amos, are you triggered again?”
Amos: …
He looked up.
“I’m not.”
Amos’s coldness was not like Frey’s.
Frey was utterly cold—distant, taciturn, and emotionless, an iceberg of a man.
Amos was arrogance tinged with indifference; so few things or people could catch his eye, and as emperor and clan leader, he’d always concealed his emotion well, rarely showing any major mood swings, looking carefree and cold—but only if no one angered him.
Frey kept looking at the screen and continued,
“Your hand is on Zao Zao’s face, your chair is much closer than before. He’s not a little cub for random kisses and hugs anymore; you ought to give him more space. Also—”
Frey thought about it, deciding Amos was now too dangerous, needed to get away and blow off some steam, maybe taking it out on the Gesen Empire.
Frey meant that Amos needed to de-stress. He’d only just relaxed in recent years, getting better as Zao Zao grew, but then lost him again—sending Amos straight back to square one, something Amos wouldn’t admit.
Frey just laid it all out.
Holy Cas soldiers: …
Wait, Your Majesty, Your Highness, is this really for us to hear?
They’d been sneaking glances at Chu Zao, but after hearing Frey, they all reflexively turned away, shrinking, staring so hard at their screens it was as if flowers might bloom on them.
“Heh.”
Amos seemed to chuckle, looking over.
“Who’s talking, the guy who HAS to watch him sleep through the screen?”
Look at that, prick him and he bristles—so aggressive.
Frey was only more convinced—Amos, you’re totally triggered!
Go deal with those self-important empires and vent already.
Sleeping, Chu Zao turned over, pressing his wings under himself, restless, adjusting repeatedly until he finally cuddled his own wings and went back to sleep—not willing to put them away even then.
The movement instantly drew Amos and Frey’s attention.
Amos looked up, having drawn his mood back in; he rubbed at his brow. The cub was sleeping and making up for lost rest. Still, since he’d been lost, Amos had hardly slept at all, but at least now his face was peaceful.
“Only Anya left on that end… Did Ayala and Lien return?”
“Yes, their short mission is over—by the time I entered the polluted zone, they should have returned to Holy Cas homeworld.”
Frey continued.
They still couldn’t reach Holy Cas directly; more ships were arriving, but systems were not fully deployed.
For now, there was a communications gap.
—“Once we’re done, let Feeney out, too.”
Amos said.
Then looked at Frey.
“Get back to work.”
Amos finished, raising his hand and pressing something casually.
The comm went dead in an instant.
Frey paused at the command deck, blinking, seeming a bit lost.
Why end the call so suddenly?
…Shouldn’t have said all that.
Looking more frosty, he looked down at his other target points, giving orders without mercy.
“Advance, fast.”
Let’s hope a few more obstacles pop up, so he can let off steam.
Elsewhere in the stars, with Anya:
The homeworld was safe with Lien, Ayala, Meilun, and other Crown Clan looking after it.
With the barrier now damaged, defense at the front lines was weak, and with more starships probing the polluted zone, some were trying to fish in troubled waters.
Anya was dealing with emergencies with his troops in a sector some distance from Holy Cas.
There were finally signs of activity from the Hymn Organization.
Anya had busted several Hymn hideouts; they seemed to be preparing something.
Though he hadn’t gotten any real info from the already deranged cultists, anything the Hymn Organization wanted to do was bound to be bad—Anya figured remembering this rule was good enough.
“So, for this kind of dumb luck job—couldn’t they send third brother back for it?”
Leaning on the command post wall, Anya grumbled—
Wasn’t this what Third Brother was good at? What do they need him for here?
Lost at rock-paper-scissors to big brother.
So he was the only one left of the Dwights on this side, huh?
Anya muttered, still unhappy.
He hadn’t seen Zao Zao in ages, either, all right?
“Your Highness?”
Hearing him mutter, the nearby general asked.
Anya looked over.
“You think they’re being unreasonable, right? Third brother, with his constitution, should be a solo agent, what’s he doing with a kid? Am I right?”
The general: …
Are we—complaining about the other highnesses together?
Sweating bullets.
Anya was open in action, but behind the scenes had squads out everywhere, near and far, reporting on the situation.
Meanwhile, on a planet not far from Anya’s route,
Shenghua was scanning documents.
“That can’t be… that doesn’t make sense…”
She murmured—
After several investigations, while much remained unclear, all the recent Crown Clan sightings were of Anya; Amos had shown no sign for even longer, likely no longer in this star sector.
What could pull the Holy Cas emperor away, except trouble with his beloved son, the next emperor Chu Zao?
Shenghua had always suspected the tension in Holy Cas had a cause—had they really lost the little highness?
“A message from the other side.”
Xi’s voice came quietly from behind her.
“This ritual will be presided over by Diligence, whom you’ve met. The other two you’ve been asking about will not appear, nor will they be at the main Hymn base.”
“Why?”
Shenghua was already used to Xi’s ghostly ways, not appearing startled—just turned calmly, all expression hidden in her cloak, but a hint of question.
She wore a thin red-thread bracelet with a tiny pit, her wrist slender and white.
“At a ‘divine’ ritual, shouldn’t all top leaders be present? Aren’t they being disrespectful to ‘God’?”
Shenghua declared righteously—if only one showed up, how could she get Holy Cas to round up the Hymn group in one go?
She heard Xi chuckle faintly, as if he found her words funny.
“Because there’s something more important.”
Xi said.
“I’ll be leaving here soon, roughly in a day—”
Xi turned, hesitating slightly.
“That so-called ritual…”
“What about it?”
“You’d best not attend.”
Xi said flatly.
Shenghua didn’t move, just leaned back and laughed.
“Xi, for someone about to be promoted to top rank, shouldn’t you use honorifics with me?”
Serfs rising! She called it.
Xi gave a cold laugh and vanished in an instant.
Shenghua’s smile faded, her grip on the papers tightening.
Meanwhile, the Hymn probe ships had left long ago; more were arriving.
Two high-ups of the Hymn Organization were among them.
—Chastity and Charity.
“Indeed, thanks to the Stone of Divine Grace, the pollution’s effect on us has lessened greatly.”
Charity said.
“Yes, ‘God’ saved us and gave us the power to survive the pollution—soon we’ll have a new and fair world. ‘God’ is supreme.”
Chastity chimed in.
“This operation is a bit rushed—are we sure that kid and his childhood friend are over there? Isn’t it reckless to go before confirming?”
“If you wait until everything’s settled and clear, you lose all initiative.”
Chastity replied.
“That region is just as unfamiliar for Holy Cas, and their adaptation to pollution now lags ours. So of course, act before they’re unified.”
“You’re right, the medicines for the Spirit Eye Race are ready.”
“Spirit Eye Race—hmph, trash already destroyed, quickest to suicide by psionic collapse, gutted and studied most thoroughly by us—ah, such a world, such fine relationships just make one want to destroy everything. Think—childhood friends turn enemies, your most beloved father forced to kill your best friend for your own safety—this rift sown… Yes, immortals deserve such fates.”
Chastity spoke softly, twisted.
*
Three days later.
Chu Zao’s fever finally broke; Amos wasn’t around, but Chu Zao could find his trace by psionics, sensing that Amos was still aboard.
Chu Zao slowly woke, limp wings draped on the bed, clutching his aching head, curls wild—trying to think—
Like sobering up after a hangover, Chu Zao turned his head in confusion—wait, wait, let Zao Zao think, what happened before?
Baba… Chao Huangmu… great-grandpa…
Eh?
Why did some kind of embarrassing, unstable scenes surface in Zao Zao’s brain?
His crown sparkled above his head—was this real?
Meanwhile, Chao Huangmu, muttering at the door, was peeking in—‘what did that kiss from Zao Zao mean?’
Not only couldn’t he figure out what that kiss meant, he also couldn’t understand why he’d been so driven for days—as if something was different.
Even others said he seemed especially energetic lately.
Zao Zao… Zao Zao—
ZaoZaoZaoZaoZaoZao—
Deep inside, a voice kept calling, echoing and echoing.
Chao Huangmu finally forced it down.
“Brother Mu?”
Chu Zao slowly sat up, exposing a stretch of smooth waist, sleepy and dazed, but when he heard the voice, raised his pretty face to look over.
“You still feeling sick?”
Chao Huangmu fixed his expression, trying to stride in with the reliable, sunshiny air—only to walk in with same-side limbs.
Chu Zao blinked, watching him ‘naturally’ reach his side.
Still a little fuzzy and a bit existentially confused, Chu Zao grew even more so at Chao Huangmu.
“Brother Mu, are you okay?”
Ruffling his curls, Chu Zao made them messier, then looked up at Chao Huangmu, his face utterly sincere: “Did I do anything weird before? Don’t mind it—just forget it—”
Forget it… just forget…
Chao Huangmu’s steps froze.
Just…forget?
He was struck dumb.
“Brother…Mu?”
Seeing the look on his face, Chu Zao slipped off the lounge bed, pure and harmless in appearance—a critical hit.
“What’s wrong? Don’t collapse! You hurt or something?”
“I’m fine, fine, I totally don’t care at all what your kiss meant, Zao Zao…” Chao Huangmu answered automatically, then cut himself off, voice trailing, “I mean, nothing that happened before matters, really—”
He really didn’t care.
He was like a big eager fish biting the bait with glee, but right when the hook was about to catch, the fisher just let go!
Chao Huangmu looked like he was going to crumble.
Culprit·Zao blinked, curls wild, rubbing his hands together—he could sense a faint heat off Chao Huangmu. Never having seen him so pitiful, Chu Zao, like a little chatterbox, leaned closer.
“Brother Mu? What’s wrong? Why do you look so gray? Brother Mu? Can you hear me? Hey, are you okay? Heeeey—” Chu Zao cupped both hands to his mouth, shouting in Chao Huangmu’s ear, drawing out the words, “Brother—Mu—can—you—hear—Zao—Zao’s—voice—?”
Chao Huangmu, hands on the bedside, head drooping—even then, his mind was still abuzz with thoughts of Zao Zao making a megaphone with his hands—too cute—
The wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing meets the natural dark; struck by a crit and utterly defeated, Chao Huangmu gloomily looked up, trying to force a smile: “I—I’m fine…”
Leave my boys alone, Hymn!!!