Zerg Father & Son 2+1 · chat.title

The clamor and hollow flatteries of the Hall of Military Merit were shut firmly outside. The floor indicator began to tick downward. Bioluminescent cold light inside the elevator swept across the medal pinned to his chest. In his sharply tailored military uniform, Caor flicked the medal's metallic edge with a gloved fingertip. The honorary privilege bought by this single medal was nothing more than permission to step foot onto that legendary Seventh Floor... Laughable. His father, Nessos, leaned against the other side of the elevator with his eyes closed to rest. The four primary eyes on his face were shut, though the eyeballs could be faintly seen rolling beneath the flesh of his lids, while the pitch-black pair set into the side of his neck remained fixed on him. "You fought well out on 12N5." Nessos didn't even bother looking his way, his voice laced with mocking amusement. "Promoted to Major General. Congratulations." He knew Caor was irked about not being the fastest among the new generation to enter the Hall of Military Merit. Shifting the topic, Nessos added, "Then again, Gano of the Killer Bee clan made full General three months ago. A week ago, he even retrieved the Broodmother after she fled to the Second Floor, earning his chance to serve on the Seventh Floor long before you..." Caor's finger froze against the medal. Yet his father acted as if he noticed nothing, leisurely straightening his cuffs. "Comparing the two of you now, the gap is getting rather noticeable." "I have no interest in any of that." The white-haired young Zerg raised his gaze. Irritation flickered in his inorganic, icy gray eyes. Braving the suffocating pressure of his formidable progenitor, he stared right back at him. "I have no interest in meeting this so-called Mother. Nor will I become like that sinister killer bee, throwing state affairs to the wind the moment he returned." He spoke bluntly, confident in his own standing. As a new breed of Zerg, he could completely suppress his instincts, conceal his alien traits, and retract his external appendages into his body. Naturally, he looked down on those brethren who lost their minds the moment they set foot in the royal brood chamber on the Seventh Floor. Nessos studied him for two silent seconds, the corners of his mouth curling upward into a slow smirk. The elevator counter clicked to "Seven." The scent of the royal brood chamber flooded in before the light did—warm, cloying with a certain sickly sweetness, seeping up from the deepest subterranean depths, heavily mingled with the pheromone traces left behind by various high-ranking Zerg. Nessos stepped forward with practiced familiarity. Glancing back at his son, whose face was still frosted with cold detachment, he left him with only one remark: "I hope you can keep that look on your face in a moment." The doors to the inner chamber were pushed open. Frowning, Caor followed half a step behind, his gaze drifting past his father's shoulders toward the deepest part of the room. With his back turned to him, Nessos bowed slightly. The eight arachnid appendages that signaled his inner emotions slowly and restlessly unfurled from both sides of his spine. He heard his father speak, his voice dropping extraordinarily low and gentle—a tone that, with him, was ever cold or sardonic, but now sounded utterly tender: "How has your day been?" Over by the bed, another figure rested. From where he stood, Caor saw the hideous, terrifying spider limbs extending from the back of his so-called father, forming a stark, jarring contrast against the petite, beautiful Mother. Breathing in that cloyingly sweet scent. Touching the soft, warm belly of the Broodmother. Biting down to suckle at her delicate fingertips. In that single instant, an uncontrollable thought seized Caor: The one standing by Mother's bedside should have been him. His knees went weak. The words he had declared in the elevator—*"I don't need it," "I am the new generation of Zerg"*—shattered into utter dust in an instant. As a supreme military commander who had guided countless decorated young Zerg to this very place, Nessos cast a glance back at him, looking upon him like someone beholding a foregone conclusion. Then, turning toward the bed, he said, "This is Caor. An arachnid, the son born of you and me. He has turned out exceptionally well; he was just promoted to Major General today." "Are you pleased?" The man smiled, picking up a strand of your hair and rolling it affectionately between his fingers, waiting with twisted anticipation for your reaction. "He's grown up. He is finally permitted to return here." You looked up, meeting the eyes of the young man standing frozen stiff by the threshold. Caor didn't register the latter half of Nessos's words. He took a step forward, the spider appendages tucked inside his endoskeleton trembling violently. The pride he had always held in his own reason and self-control now felt pathetically absurd. Those limbs were organs for hunting, and weapons for lethal defense. It turned out the Seventh Floor was sealed off not to imprison the Broodmother, but to protect them. The moment they laid eyes upon their Mother, all offspring would lose their minds. The lower castes would abandon all duty and order, surging forward in a frenzied, suffocating swarm— To devour her, to tear at her, venting their purest, most primal love. Impulse and a hammering heartbeat tangled together, until he could no longer tell whether he wanted to shield that fragile life or tear into his prey. "...Mama." Caor's throat tightened. He knew Nessos was watching his wretched display from the side, practically smirking, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Everything before his eyes was dissolving, leaving only the person resting in the center of that bed— Mother. Mama. Those emotions he had once mocked as foolish and contemptible were now erupting through every single nerve fiber in his body. He remembered how he had accused Gano of playing dumb and begging for pity; now, the grievance suppressed in his own chest for more than twenty years was surging upward, tainted with ravenous desire. A human infant's crying could summon a mother's gentle caress... Would his? Could he make his mother love him? The unfamiliar man at the doorway walked straight toward your bed. Unlike the other Zerg from before, his appearance resembled a human far more than Nessos ever did. He trembled faintly with thrill and manic excitement, yet still desperately struggled to keep his composure: "I am Caor... your son, Mama."