‘Are they crazy?’
‘Are they truly insane?’
Del muttered, the words sounding almost like a groan.
“The Committee...!”
She could tolerate the nonsense about ceding half their Territory so they could build a Holy Empire on it. It was exactly the sort of idea the Ancient Race would come up with.
But saying they would sell Talents “at a good price” if they needed them?
To Del, this sounded like a declaration of war. Spelled out, it effectively meant this:
—If you want the lifeblood of your brothers and sisters, which we extorted from you through deception and wrung out as we pleased until recently, then pay a fair price and buy it.
‘Cain.’
‘How can he be so calm?’
If their positions had been reversed and Del had received the same offer, she would have flown into a rage. She might have smashed the Communicator on the spot.
But his expression remained impassive.
The aura that had briefly made him feel like the prisoner Cain just moments ago was entirely gone. He was simply cold.
Del sensed that his mind had fully returned to that of the primordial race.
In other words, at this moment, Minjun did not seem “human” at all.
“You aren’t angry. Are you suppressing your emotions, or have you eradicated all unnecessary feelings?”
Minjun ignored the question.
“You didn’t contact me just to make that idiotic proposal.”
“Of course not. Can you guess whose idea that negotiation offer was?”
“The Kavite, most likely.”
“Exactly.”
The Endelion had been certain Minjun would never accept such terms.
“Todd, blinded by revenge, is simply parroting that there will be absolutely no negotiation. They’ve suffered the most casualties so far, and that is simply the nature of their race. They want to return exactly what they received, no matter the cost.”
Todd felt there was no need to even send this proposal.
“The Kavite predicted from the start that this war would be prolonged, but seeing how it’s unfolding, they seem to have felt a greater sense of anxiety.”
In their impatience, they had devised this negotiation plan.
Minjun’s fleet had easily evaded their traps, showing a readiness to march across dimensions with unstoppable momentum.
At this point, Del found Minjun’s willingness to keep listening even more surprising than the crazy idea itself.
The primordial race tilted his head slightly. Then, he spoke in a serene tone, as if exchanging pleasantries.
“As expected, they are disgusting beasts who know no shame.”
The Endelion replied casually.
“It’s natural from their perspective. The Kavite are not ashamed of what they did to you in the past. They believe it was something they had to do to survive. To begin with, they are a race that doesn’t care about the means as long as the goal is justified. Those earthworms have been like that from the start.”
The king’s bronze skin bubbled. A gesture akin to a human sneer.
“The idea of trading actual Talents comes from them judging it to be their rightful property.”
It was a brazen attitude, assuming that since they had practically occupied it for nearly a millennium, the other party had no right to protest.
“It means it’s the fault of those who had it stolen from them in the first place. That it’s the rightful burden of the ones who exposed their vulnerabilities by falling into a deep slumber for so long, allowing others to touch it... the race that provided the excuse must naturally bear the consequences.”
The primordial race, unable to wake from their slumber, was already no different from livestock.
The current situation, where they possessed intelligence but could not express it through action, justified that judgment.
When they had already perfected the process of extracting and storing blood en masse, and a single individual wandering outside the farm demanded the return of the blood its family had shed—
Did the farm owner truly have an obligation to return it?
The king spoke.
“The first step in preparing for a negotiation is identifying what our side absolutely must not lose—the parts we cannot yield or concede.”
What is most precious to us?
“The second step is predicting the opponent’s absolute bottom line.”
And what is most precious to them?
“The Kavite have already failed at the second step.”
Even after hearing all that, Minjun’s expression did not change.
It was natural. He had no need to fly into a rage and express his anger here.
Since he had regained his memories, a boiling fury and cold hostility had constantly coursed through his veins.
Murderous intent gnawed at his insides like a suffocating tidal wave or a sharp flame. Even at this very moment.
Therefore, Minjun had no need to let it explode.
Venting one’s emotions at others was predicated on their recognition and reaction. But to Minjun, their acknowledgment was meaningless.
A judge does not need the empathy of a prisoner.
“The proposal that will soon be delivered to you is merely the foundation for a waste of time. That’s why I wanted to ask directly.”
The primordial race only wanted the liberation of their kin.
The Ancient Race only wanted to prevent exactly that.
The fierce wills of both sides merely drew parallel lines; they never intertwined or formed a parabola. It meant finding common ground was a distant hope.
Even so, the king asked.
“Could there be a compromise we haven’t thought of? You can forget the delusions advocated by the Kavite. On the other hand, what alternative do you want to propose? Is negotiation truly impossible?”
Instead of answering, Minjun smiled.
The king stared at that expression for a moment.
Silence flowed.
“If so...”
Even though there was no reply, the answer was conveyed clearly and vividly.
The king realized that Minjun had never come here to negotiate in the first place. He hadn’t even urged them to surrender.
All that remained was all-out war.
The king thought that, nevertheless, it was fortunate he had accepted this conversation.
Her eyes shifted direction.
“@#%$@^^@.”
Suddenly called by her true name again, Del answered reflexively.
“Yes, Mother.”
They conversed in the royal language, just as they had earlier.
“Have you made your decision?”
“Excuse me?”
“I have already ordered you to commit suicide.”
A resolute light flickered in Del’s eyes.
Her voice was filled with conviction.
“No, I cannot do that.”
She didn’t know how much lifespan she had left, but she couldn’t die now.
Now that a connection was finally established, Del intended to make her case to the queen mother.
The current system that supported their fake eternal life had to be overthrown. Del knew that among the Endelions of her mother’s generation, some had already undergone body renewal more than ten times. They didn’t wait until aging fully set in.
Ten lives lost just to sustain one person’s existence. The most horrifying part was that it wouldn’t end there. Innocent deaths would continue to pile up for as long as their eternal life lasted.
This system must not continue.
“Mother, I...”
The event that had triggered her escape from Earth was a kidnapping, but...
The moment she was about to say that she was no longer Minjun’s prisoner, but was helping him of her own free will—
“Enough.”
Del noticed a fleeting trace of impatience in the king’s eyes.
It was so swift and faint that anyone else would have missed it.
“Then it can’t be helped.”
“Mother!”
Del was just about to protest.
The king chanted a sentence at an extremely rapid pace. Pronounced in the secret language, the words sounded like this to Del’s ears:
“The melody of fragmented dreams. A gentle breeze crushes and echoes. A universe fading into transparent snowflakes. The ninth morning lost in a field of stars. Constellations rippling within a single leaf, and once again, a fragile moment of life. In the place where pale silence has been wiped away, you shall finally find peace.”
“Huh? What did you say?”
For a moment, Del wondered if the queen mother had lost her mind.
The chant sounded like a random combination of sentences from which no solid meaning could be extracted.
Right then.
“...Ah?”
Flash!
Del panicked.
Why?
Why had her vision suddenly changed?
—!
Up until then, Del had been looking at the Communicator screen from roughly the same eye level as Minjun.
But why... could she see beyond the horizon?
She shifted her gaze. Below her bronze flesh, the Communicator looked like a black speck of dust.
There was no one in the spot where Minjun had just been standing. He had soared high into the sky, and he was looking at her with an expression of shock.
Del desperately tried to grasp the situation.
I...
Squelch!
Whoosh!
A reflexive movement.
A tentacle scraped across the earth. Dirt and rocks splattered everywhere, accompanied by a harsh roar.
Del’s Polymorph had been undone.
‘Why? I never intended to...’
I need to revert to human form.
The moment she had that thought—
Rumble!
Del tried to lift her body, but she couldn’t. Her flesh was not obeying her mind’s commands. It felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton. Her tentacles flailed weakly before collapsing back onto the ground.
‘Could it be?!’
Del remembered the song the queen mother had chanted just moments ago.
Perhaps it was some sort of code, or an activation trigger.
Programmed into her body without her even knowing.
Incomprehensible sentences woven into a format that could never be uttered under normal circumstances, not even by mistake.
The moment she heard it, her body reacted.
‘Mother!’
Crash!
The ground split open along the direction her convulsing tentacles struck.
Del’s head spun as severe dizziness washed over her. What struck her next was the agonizing pain of her body tearing itself apart.
Splash!
The Endelion’s skin tore open, and blue bodily fluids erupted like a waterfall. Del realized her physical body was collapsing. Telekinetic power surged uncontrollably through her veins and muscles. It felt as if a swarm of piranhas had been unleashed inside her, tearing, slicing, and shredding her alive.
Piercing through the unimaginable agony—
“Del!”
She heard Minjun’s cracking shout.
Her body, trembling as if having a seizure, collapsed onto the Communicator. Crack! The king in the video feed vanished.
That was the moment Del lost her sight.
Her vision went pitch black. Writhing in the torment of her entire body breaking apart, Del realized she was dying.
=Everyone, come out!=
The avatar’s roar echoed through a mental wave. At the same time, Del felt a faint mist-like energy envelop her surroundings. A lifeforce that was not her own overflowed into her body.
Minjun had taken action to save her.
She also sensed the priests, who had rushed out of the Mothership in a panic, collectively projecting their Divine Power onto her.
But it was useless. Her aged body, already pushed to its absolute limits, was rapidly disintegrating.
‘No, I can’t die like this.’
Spewing blood from all over her body, Del barely managed to generate a mental wave.
=Cain. I know this is shameless, but please.=
Desperately clinging to the threads of her consciousness to avoid passing out...
She sent another telepathic message.
The contents shocked not only Minjun but also the priests who heard it alongside him.
=Transfer... my soul.=
*
“The video signal has been cut off. However, we are continuing to detect the princess’s life signs via satellite.”
The Endelion homeworld.
The king of the tentacle monsters asked the bureaucrat in return.
“The rate of progression?”
The one checking the graphs spoke.
“Very fast. It shouldn’t take long.”
The king muttered softly.
“At least that is a relief.”
Del never knew until the end. She was probably the first royal to have had so many different kinds of restriction devices implanted within her flesh.
All these arrangements had been installed while she was living as a prisoner.
When the heir to the royal family destined to lead the Endelions had committed a crime and, for the first time in their race’s history, was sentenced to penal labor.
As part of that punishment, her turn for body renewal was pushed back, and her soul was confined to a repulsive human body.
In preparation for the future, the king had implanted various devices into her original body, which was left behind as an empty shell.
“Your heartbreak must be immense.”
The king remained silent for a moment.
It was true that she had attempted to converse with Asif-666 to confirm if there was truly no room for negotiation. But the king herself hadn’t thought the probability was high.
In truth, the far more important objective had been to let her daughter hear her real voice.
Aside from chanting an incomprehensible poem, they had no way of knowing that, starting from the abrupt order to “commit suicide,” she had hidden indiscernible soundwave codes between her lines of dialogue with Minjun.
It was impossible for anyone else. She had to chant and deliver it personally.
Because it was designed that way from the start.
The retainers spoke comfortingly.
“It could not be helped.”
“With an all-out war now inevitable, the situation would have been even more difficult if the princess remained a captive.”
“Still, you personally confirmed that there was no room for negotiation until the very end.”
After the mining planet exploded, the Endelion faction had prepared a few more traps along their projected path.
However, the enemy fleet was spotted evading some of them, almost as if they had anticipated it.
Information had leaked.
Naturally, the only possible source was the princess.
“Since Asif-666 must have threatened her life, it was not the princess’s fault, but in the end, it was just a streak of misfortune...”
None of them could even conceive the possibility that the princess had cooperated willingly.
Or, even if a few of them knew, they were intentionally feigning ignorance.
Weighing their true intentions, the king spoke with feigned composure.
“It’s fine. We can just make another child.”
*
Yumtus roared.
“Holy Mother! What are you saying?!”
As he poured his Divine Power into the collapsing body of the Endelion, he lost control of himself for a moment.
He knew full well that this was an act of profound disrespect before divine beings.
Nevertheless, he couldn’t hold back.
Because there was only one way for a dying Endelion to transfer their soul.
“Don’t tell me, you mean to steal the bodies of those children?!”
The tentacle creatures raised for body renewal.
Those children who were still waiting inside the Mothership for the Holy Mother to return.
Now that she faced the imminent threat of death, was she that terrified? Was she planning to kill those healthy children and snatch their bodies?
Yumtus couldn’t understand why he was so furious.
Even though he would normally carry out the deed without question if the Holy Mother—and his god—desired it.
At that moment.
=No...=
Del squeezed out the last of her strength.
“Ah?!”
And Yumtus came to regret his rash behavior.
A sub-space opened above Del’s body, and a figure abruptly popped out from it!
“...?!”
Even Minjun widened his eyes, seemingly unable to anticipate this.
Despite the excruciating pain, Del felt a pang of shame. Her secret, which she had kept hidden even from Minjun until now, had been discovered.
It was a sort of secret longing. A dream she clung to, even knowing it was realistically impossible.
Within the sightless darkness, she pictured its shape.
Even though it was incomplete. Even though she had judged it entirely unusable in its current state and simply kept it in storage.
With Minjun’s current capabilities, it was possible. He would be able to fix it into a usable condition.
Del spoke with all her might.
=In here...!=
Once, to gift freedom to her prisoner ex-husband, Del had spent a vast amount of time crafting a Homunculus—a fake body. Although it had since been modified into the main vessel for Asiph-1, it was originally meant as a gift for Minjun. Her plan had been to transfer his soul into it, allowing him to escape disguised as an ordinary human.
It was a plan riddled with holes, and the preparation process had not been easy. If making a doll that functioned like a real body and showed no soul rejection was so simple, the Committee would have utilized that method long ago instead of relying on body renewals.
But Del hadn’t given up. While she hadn’t come anywhere near completion, she had poured her heart into its creation, ultimately making its appearance and durability decent enough to be passable.
And there was one more thing Del had never told anyone.
The truth was, she hadn’t only been making a doll for her ex-husband.
“You... don’t tell me!”
Minjun stared at the Homunculus, which flawlessly replicated the human body his ex-wife had used during the days they spent together as prisoners, right down to her outfit.
*
The tentacle subject reported to the king.
“Her life signs have ceased.”
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