"Arthur, that's the human name he chose for himself." An Alpha woman, holding a tablet and an electronic pen, stood at the front of the room and adjusted her glasses. The lenses faithfully projected the appearance of the Zerg leader who had occupied the spaceship 'The Betrayer' two days ago onto the open space surrounded by a dozen tables. The others present immediately focused their attention on this seemingly unremarkable human male.
"However, the footage recorded within the wreckage of the spaceship likely doesn't reflect his true appearance. We already know that the Zerg possess remarkable mimicry abilities. Furthermore, according to information revealed by Arthur himself, he should be able to manipulate the collective thoughts of his own kind to a certain extent, and 'project' his own consciousness onto individuals of the same species. Therefore, there's a 90% chance that the deceased Zerg leader wasn't the Zerg leader himself, but rather a subordinate who sacrificed himself on a whim..."
"So he ran away?" A person sitting below listening to the lecture raised his hand and asked.
"That's right." The woman in charge pushed up her glasses again. "The moment the spaceship was... destroyed, his consciousness was torn away, leaving behind only an empty shell from which he could not escape."
"Where are the other bugs in the ship?"
"They probably don't possess the abilities of the Insect King." The woman hesitated before saying this. "This is just my current speculation. Their utter death will be the end of everything."
"But even if we figure out the bugs' abilities," another person below clenched his fists and stammered, "it's none of our business. Wasn't the Pope's order to deal with that thing that appeared in the sky?"
As soon as he finished speaking, goosebumps broke out on many people's arms as they recalled the scene. Although the Red Line Legion was not present in public, as the hidden backbone of the Holy See, they were also responsible for secretly maintaining order during the celebration. Therefore, many people present witnessed the "Betrayer" being easily crushed to pieces by the tentacles that descended from the sky.
A pale young man began to retch reflexively.
Gresham, who was sitting next to him, taking up almost two chairs, immediately dodged to the side. Then, under the gazes of the others, he adjusted his sitting position awkwardly and asked with concern, "Are you okay?"
"It's okay... Ugh!"
This time Gresham couldn't dodge.
Unfortunately, his trouser legs were stained with a sour liquid with a strange smell.
"...Can I go to the bathroom?"
The woman who had been explaining earlier said expressionlessly, "The meeting isn't over yet."
Gresham took a deep breath and sat back down, mumbling amidst the constant apologies from those around him, "Thank God for the celebration day. I never want to eat anything with tentacles in it again."
"The aftereffects." The Alpha woman raised her index finger and pushed up the temple of her glasses. "Vomiting is only the mildest of the symptoms. The Pope is still in the intensive care unit. His internal bleeding only showed some improvement this morning."
She recalled the monster in the sky the day before that had easily annihilated the enemy and then quickly shrank and disappeared. A blasphemous thought flashed through her mind - the power of heaven is unpredictable.
"Gresham, Margarita said she asked you to monitor commentator Ford Hill because he might be involved in the unrest in Port Alpert. What did you find out?"
The brown bear-like man was startled, scratching his head and answering, "I basically didn't notice anything wrong. He doesn't have any particularly close relatives or friends. His only surviving cousin is on a business trip to a small town in the southern border. Adopting Erica is probably Ford Hill's most irregular move in recent years. But considering that older single Alphas all yearn for a well-behaved and gentle Omega daughter..."
He shrugged. "Erica is incredibly talented. If I were in that situation, I might have adopted her too. It's no big deal."
"Where are Erica's parents?"
"They are the kind of people you'd find most in the slums of Port Alplai. They've received no formal education, are poor, and have narrow-minded views. They don't believe Omegas need to go to school. Ford Hill simply left them some money and took the little girl away."
"So you're saying there's nothing wrong with him?"
Gresham hesitated, then nodded. "I think so. Anne doesn't think there's anything wrong with her friend, does she?"
**
Anne woke up from her sleep with a start.
It was still dark, and a thick fog had risen on the autumn night on the capital planet. The moon and stars were hidden behind the clouds. She could only see the dim lights in the courtyard illuminating a small green flowerbed.
Erica's eager expression reappeared in her dream. The Omega girl was like an angel, no one could deny that. Her clear green eyes and lush brown hair reminded her of a fluffy lamb or rabbit, yet she was far more intelligent than these silly creatures. Sometimes, even Annie had trouble following her train of thought.
Mr. Anderson said that Erica would win another championship in mathematics. Everyone would be proud of her, including Anne.
The thing she is most grateful for is that she extended a helping hand in class and did not miss this friendship.
The girl curled up in the quilt and closed her eyes tightly.
Erica is certainly an angel…
But is the fur of the lamb beloved by God as pure and white as it looks?
She pondered this question until the sun rose.
The door was pushed open, and an Alpha woman wearing glasses walked in: "Annie."
"Good morning, Sister Yeda."
"Let me ask you about Erica," the woman said straight to the point. "Besides her exceptional talent, do you think there's anything special about her?"
Annie was stunned for a moment: "What does this have to do with Erica?"
Yeda said: "Not sure yet, just a routine inquiry."
The information in her mind suddenly became a mess, and one ominous guess after another emerged. Annie rubbed her head against the chair and subconsciously lowered her head under the other person's gaze: "I don't know."
She whispered, "I don't think there's anything wrong."
**
-Chat Room-
00:03:25
Anonymous 1: I knew it was Him! I heard it! God is watching over all of us!
Anonymous 2: Boss, why aren’t you asleep at 3 o’clock? What are you talking about?
Anonymous 1: The one in the previous volcano video is the same deity that appeared over Maan Fort! You have to believe me!
Anonymous 2: ...You're kidding! God or not, how could you confuse humans with monsters? Maybe it's some secret weapon developed by the Federation in Fort Maan.
Anonymous 1: But didn’t you say before that you thought the guy in the video was handsome?
Anonymous 2: ...I did say that, but aren't all the people in this anonymous group in the advanced stages of chuunibyou? Of course, seeing this kind of coolness is amazing. I love it in games and anime, but forget about it in the 3D world. As for the unrest at Maanbao Festival, there are so many weird rumors online. I'm not going to believe a single word until there's an official announcement.
Anonymous 1:…
Anonymous 1: So you don't feel anything else? Nightmares? Anxiety? Irregular heartbeat? Tinnitus?
Anonymous 2: What are you talking about? Are you confused?
Anonymous 1: ...Tsk, what the hell is the review department doing? They let people like this in.
Anonymous 2: Hey! What do you mean?
-You have been kicked out of the chat room by the administrator-
A bloated man in an apartment somewhere in the capital angrily kicked the leg of a stool: "Fuck! Damn it!"
**
Azathoth and Igor went out for a walk before the sun rose and most humans were still asleep. The thick fog obscured their figures. Azathoth took off his black robe after a long absence and changed into a shirt and suit pants of the same style as Igor.
He was much thinner than a normal human, but his frame wasn't petite, so the suit he wore had a certain unrestrained and uninhibited beauty. As Igor walked side by side with him on the sidewalk, he would occasionally have the illusion that the person standing next to him was actually a genuine human being.
The young human's gaze swept past his companion's casual profile, landing on the dark hair and white earlobes that fell to his ears. A question suddenly came to his mind: "How did you spend your days before arriving on that desolate planet?"
The topic of their discussions often fell on Igor.
Azathoth loved to speak of Igor's past, present, and future. He was anchored to this world by his followers, radiating his interest from a single human to the entire world. Igor had no doubt that Azathoth favored no particular corner of the universe or race. Perhaps this statement came across as a bit self-aggrandizing... but the god's love for his people was all too evident.
He is like a kite. If you don't tie the string tightly, you don't know where he will fly to.
There is neither past nor future.
People remember Him.
People forget Him.
Azathoth is a wanderer in this universe, and Igor's place is his temporary residence.
This thought makes humans feel uneasy.
As he thought, the god was indifferent to his affairs: "He has almost forgotten them and spends most of his time sleeping."
"You contacted Marshal Gonger before. Will he tell the federal secret service that you are here?"
The topic returned to Igor. He paused before saying, "Old Marshal Ganger was my former superior and one of my beloved predecessors. He has been retired for a long time. If I hadn't suddenly abandoned my position and ran away, he wouldn't have to worry about his later years."
"So he likes you very much?"
"Pretty much... He was the one who promoted me. While he's unlikely to speak up for me, he won't easily take advantage of me. He knows my contact information, and if anything major happens in the Federation, he'll definitely notify me. However, I'm afraid the news of my presence in the capital has already reached many of my allies."
"Hmm."
"I won't let them disturb you," Igor said.
"I was just thinking," Azathoth said as he pondered, "Wouldn't it be better to get rid of it once and for all sometimes?"
He took two quick steps and turned to face Igor. A smile appeared on his pale face. He raised his hand to adjust the tie that Igor had helped him tie before he went out.
The fog around me grew thicker.
Igor looked down at his feet and noticed that under the pale white street light, the shadow of Azathoth was stirring.
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