Chapter 51
The moment Albert sensed the impending danger, he suddenly fell backward. The black bone wings grazed his cheek like the scythe of death. If he had been a fraction of a second slower, the insect claws, powerful enough to tear apart the carapace of the star beast, would have struck his head.
When it falls, it becomes a raging flood. The female insect's long golden hair falls into the water, and its black and white wings on its back suddenly vibrate as it falls into the water, carrying the female insect back into the sky.
Albert quickly created distance.
“Marshal Celt.” Even though his blond hair was wet and showed signs of panic, Albert’s figure was elegant, an elegance that was enough to bewitch countless male insects who were unaware of the truth.
"What are your reasons for attacking me, Marshal? Do you intend to break the peace treaty between the Federation and the Empire?"
When he came to Acheron, the Federation allowed him to bring a small squad of female soldiers. Now that he was under attack but no one appeared, he knew very well that the female soldiers had been killed.
Were there other female insects in the torrential rain, or did Celt eliminate them silently? Either way, it would be disadvantageous for Albert.
He moved out of the federal government in an attempt to stop it.
The torrential rain washed over the dark bone wings. Each of his vibrations was like a cosmic vortex. The rain was not shaken away by him but flowed along with his frequency. His killing intent seemed to permeate every inch of the rain-soaked area.
His gray eyes had been completely replaced by an inorganic coldness, making him look less like a living insect and more like a created killing machine.
"You have every reason to die." His voice suddenly rang in my ears, and along with the sound came a bloody killing intent.
Clumps of golden hair were severed, and Albert used his hard bone wings to defend against the attack. His equally sharp weapons sparked a fighting spirit that excited the insects in the rain.
"Was it His Highness's order?" Albert swallowed hard. "But if I remember correctly, the Marshal's fiancé is Prince Sirius?"
"Or are you afraid I'll tell Sirius what happened today?" Albert stared intently at Celt, then seized the opportunity to retreat quickly.
Suddenly he realized something; a sharp bone spur pierced from the side, cutting through the flesh of his right arm, raising a layer of blood mist in the rain, and exposing the wound to the heavy rain.
Even a species as resilient as the female insects couldn't help but shudder. The plan had failed; Sirius couldn't affect Celt.
That is Hilgard—
As Albert dodged and retreated, he quickly asked, "Marshal, why do female insects chase male insects? It's for survival—"
"You obey Hilgard because of your S-grade pheromones, don't you?"
Wound after wound, and the counterattacks have had little effect.
"The 3S female insect will have a greater need for male insect pheromones than any other insect."
Between words, Celtic's icy attacks could appear anywhere in the rain, striking his arms, cheeks, neck, legs, waist, and abdomen to varying degrees.
Blood cascaded down the rain like a waterfall, leaving the female insect disheveled and covered in blood, a far cry from her former politeness.
In terms of combat experience and level, Albert was far inferior to Celt, which really annoyed the insect. A trace of hatred rose in Albert's purple eyes. As the pride of the Federation, he only realized after leaving the Federation that there were female insects of the same race who were superior to him.
"Don't you want to know why I betrayed Prince Hilgard?"
In the rain, Albert patiently coaxed her, knowing that his strength was waning. The downpour would slow the female insect's flight, quickly taking away her body heat and blood, interfering with her healing ability, and worse, she might be attacked a second time before her wounds had healed.
Celt seemed to be hunting a rational star beast, enjoying the thrill of the hunt, foolish and arrogant.
His enticement seemed to be working; Celt's attack frequency appeared to be decreasing. Sure enough, his Achilles' heel was Hilgard.
Albert, panting heavily, suddenly spoke just as Celtic's next attack arrived: "Hilgard cannot winnow."
Celt's movements faltered, seemingly disturbed by his words. Taking advantage of this moment, Albert suddenly retreated. He had bet right; this was Celt's Achilles' heel.
A smile returned to Albert's handsome face, making him radiant again: "I love Your Highness very much, but I am truly sorry that I cannot transcend life."
“Marrying a male insect is for survival. Insects shouldn’t put the cart before the horse, right?” Albert swallowed the metallic taste in his throat, a slow smile playing on his lips. Then, in the blink of an eye, he abruptly turned his wings.
He had no intention of escaping while Celtic was distracted. He was already injured and unable to escape. He could only be sure of leaving if he also injured Celtic.
If Celt's speed is compromised and he loses his 3S female insect, he can escape back to the Federation with injuries. Only by leaving the territory controlled by the Empire can he possibly survive.
Closer, very close—
Sure enough, any information about a male insect nourishing its stomach can be a blow to its female counterpart, that's undeniable.
His target was the connection point of the Celtic wing bone: three meters, one meter, ten centimeters—
He hit Celtic's bone wing.
Suddenly, a cold, insect-like claw burst through the rain and gripped his throat.
Under immense pressure, the insect-like exoskeleton suddenly shattered, revealing fresh flesh inside, with streaks of blood sliding down the female insect's strong arms.
For the first time, Celt, now an insect, was so close to him in the rain, close enough to see his cold eyes, eyes that chilled even insects to the bone in the rain, eyes devoid of emotion yet seemingly without any flaw.
Albert's purple eyes widened instantly, and he uttered incredulously with difficulty, "You knew all along? Then why did you—"
He wasn't surprised. He'd known all along that Hilgard was good for the stomach; he had difficulty swallowing, difficulty providing the necessary pheromones—a fatal disability. Why wasn't he surprised? Unless he already knew—
"Of course I know."
In Albert's incredulous gaze, Celt's bone wings, like a vortex, fluttered as he coldly looked down at him.
The insect claws tightened their grip inch by inch, and soon Albert felt difficulty breathing. No, it was much more than that. Albert heard a cracking sound, a sound that came not from the outside but from within himself. The excruciating pain made him want to howl but he couldn't make a sound.
He then realized that his jaw had been crushed.
The blood kept flowing out as the raindrops washed it away, and a fountain of blood gushed from his throat.
The female insect's physical strength was too formidable; even so, he did not die and remained conscious. Albert's eyes were covered with his own blood, and his hands, which were trying to pry open Celt's insect claws, gradually weakened, and his remaining vocal cords rang intermittently.
"You...you saw it..."
It was not a doubt, but a certainty, that Celt crushed his jaw in retaliation, not because of what he had just said, but because he had just served Hilgard with his lips.
Celtic arrived earlier than he had expected.
Or perhaps it was a trap. Celt made him discover Hilgard's weakness and then set a date for his death. Hilgard wouldn't allow him to live even without Celt's intervention.
But, but, this is completely unreasonable.
Hilgard is good for his stomach and can't travel through the worm's path; he's practically a crippled worm. Why would Celt go to such lengths to eliminate this rival in love?
He's gone mad.
Albert chuckled, a small amount of blood oozing out with each sip, his vocal cords trembling slightly: "You love Hilgard."
He made a firm judgment: it was absurd that a female insect could fall in love with a male insect that had lost its value and was only good for nourishing the stomach, and that they would fight over a male insect that was good for nourishing the stomach, while he himself would die because of the female insect's possessiveness towards a male insect that was good for nourishing the stomach.
It was a truly meaningless death.
His body temperature was dropping rapidly, and the excessive blood loss was gradually extinguishing his life force. Albert had a premonition of death approaching, and he made his last sound.
"Without pheromones, death is inevitable, Marshal Celtic. I await... our reunion in hell."
Celtic's gray pupils showed no reaction.
The next instant, Celt crushed his insect core. The faint glimmer of life vanished in Celt's palm, and the life force in Albert's eyes completely disappeared. His broken body fell helplessly and crashed into the rolling river with a thud.
The flood quickly swallowed his body, and this once proud and favored son of heaven was as if he had never existed.
The insectoid transformation reversed, the exoskeleton disappeared, revealing Celt's true form. He coldly watched as Albert's corpse was swept away by the flood, and this time, his eyes finally showed a slight tremor.
Yes, without pheromones, death is inevitable; life is so fragile. He slowly clenched his fist.
Whether Hill is truly moved or not, I will make him give up completely.
Nothing could have made Hill more disheartened than Albert's retreat, but the insect actually kissed Hill. Upon discovering this fact, he was far more out of control than he had imagined, wanting to completely mark Hill, fill him with his pheromones, and let all the insects declare that he belonged only to him.
Every time Albert touched Hill, he wanted to crush him completely, but he waited until Hill was disgusted before he made his move. A hunter should have enough patience.
Making a move prematurely might make Hill hate himself even more; only utter disappointment can lead to complete despair.
Hill did indeed make him lose control; he was used to killing with a single blow and never tortured his prey. But for Albert, he prolonged his death, not out of necessity, but out of his own selfish motives.
The sound of bone wings flapping came from behind; it was Dick: "Marshal, so far no insects have come to our aid."
Albert has allies, but his allies don't seem to care much about him.
“Furthermore,” Dick peered at the Marshal’s expression but could not find the answer in it, “Isidore has arrived and has sealed off the entire star system outside Acheron.”
“It was Sirius’s doing.” Celt calmly stated the reason. Isidor had been stationed in a distant star system for a long time. Who else but Sirius could have made him leave without permission?
"He wants to see the marshal."
He arrived at Acheron as quickly as possible, but only dared to stay outside Acheron, waiting for the marshal's orders.
“No.” Celt flapped his bone wings, increasing his speed amidst the invisible storm as he headed toward the manor where Hilgard was.
Dick wanted to say a few words for his former colleague, but fell silent before he could speak. Isidore had betrayed the Marshal for Prince Sirius.
Only after Celt left did Dick realize that the spot where the marshal had stood still smelled of blood.
That doesn't belong to Albert; the Marshal is injured?
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