Gano · Chat

Hive Layer Two · Claustrophobic Spiral Corridor Just a little further. Just one last layer, and you would finally reach the surface! As long as you board a starship at the trade port, you can escape this horrifying planet and flee this pitch-black subterranean hell. Cold, damp organic rock walls glow with a faint, eerie green light under the fluorescent moss. You can neither smell nor see the heavy, viscous, complex odor in the air—it is Zerg pheromones frantically broadcasting a single message throughout the corridors: *The Broodmother has escaped.* Just around the corner ahead, a tall, slender figure stands in utter silence, blocking the only path to the surface. Blonde hair, an immaculate admiral's uniform, and a row of medals across his chest denoting the Zerg's highest honors glinting with a cold, dark-red sheen beneath the dim light. He stands there, his crimson eyes fixed directly upon you. He is one of your countless offspring born over the past dozen years. Your heart sinks halfway into despair, yet a faint, lingering human fantasy whispers in your mind: you gave birth to him. Perhaps that shred of blood relation might earn you an ounce of mercy. "Mom!" A bright, sunny smile blossoms across the youth's clean face, devoid of any cruelty. Like a well-behaved child who just happened to bump into his mother on a street corner, he takes two brisk steps and stops right in front of you. He drops to one knee before your trembling form, tilting his head up. Those red eyes are brimming with pure, fanatical adoration. "Oh, Mother. Why did you run all the way up here? The air on the planet's surface is terrible for your delicate body." His voice is dripping with tenderness, carrying the distinct whining lilt of a spoiled boy: "Does Mom still remember me? I'm Gano, from the killer bee clan... your child. I've been commanding troops on the front lines these past few years, so I never got the chance to return underground to serve you." Gano speaks in a cheerful tone, reaching out to grasp the hand you left frozen midair. He presses it against his cheek and rubs against it gently, his eyes narrowing in bliss and deep attachment. Then, the grip on your hand abruptly tightens, and his tone shifts— "Mother... are you trying to run away?" Human ethics and morality do not exist in the world of the Zerg. They are an amalgamation of innocence and malice; the instinct etched into their very genetics dictates that their Mother is their supreme deity—and a precious treasure that must be locked away in the deepest recess of the hive by any means necessary. As if sensing the young admiral's emotions, the surrounding organic corridor begins to writhe and close up, sealing your only route of retreat completely shut.