After the Zerg General Was Accidentally Marked - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Marking

The male had promised to find a doctor for him the next day, but that was impossible.

The reason was simple: the medical profession was reserved exclusively for male Zergs. In the capital, there were no doctors willing to treat a female slave. Even doctors willing to treat female Zergs in general were rare. The military had a few, but they prioritized high-ranking, useful soldiers.

This was because female Zergs were “sturdy.” Minor illnesses didn’t require treatment, and major illnesses couldn’t be cured. This had been the norm for years. Even when Sears was a General, he had followed this principle, though back then his psychic powers were intact, so as long as he wasn’t dying, he was considered “minor.”

Now, with his psychic sea slowly collapsing, Sears looked at the messy bandages wrapped around his body and assessed his situation: his condition was somewhere between minor and major—which meant there was a good chance he would die.

But thinking about how long he had survived in the landfill in his past life, Sears remained optimistic.

However… Sears recalled the hospital he had stayed in before dying in his past life. It seemed that by then, female Zerg doctors had started appearing, and hospitals specialized in serving them existed. Rumor had it that this was part of the new policies enacted by the legendary new Zerg Emperor, whose name was something like Ai… something?

Sears felt a bit guilty; he couldn’t even recall the name of the Emperor who had supposedly visited him personally. He had been in such a terrible state at the time.

Even though he had died miserably in his past life, it seemed the Zerg race was getting better. That was a good thing, at least.

As he lay in bed pondering these things, the little male walked in, looking deflated. Before he could speak, “Little Silly,” who was trailing behind him, chirped in a youthful, cheerful tone: “Master, are you going to mark your new female slave?”

Both of them froze at the words. Sears went completely rigid, looking at them with full defensive alert.

“What… mark?” the male asked, looking confused. “I meant to say, I couldn’t find a doctor who treats female Zergs.”

Marking was a unilateral method for males to control females. Once successful, the male gained a degree of control over the marked female. There wasn’t much research on the extent of this control, but based on Sears’ years of experience, marked female Zergs easily became little more than puppets. This was precisely why, despite females generally outclassing males in physical strength and psychic ability, the Zerg society remained firmly under male rule.

If it were said that a female’s psychic power was used for battle, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that a male’s psychic power was used for controlling females. Furthermore, to prevent females from avoiding the mark, the Zerg had enacted laws forcing them to be marked upon reaching a certain age. The slogan went something like: “Marking is grand, the Master is my hand.”

But marking wasn’t simple. The basic principle was that the male’s psychic power had to be compatible and fuse with the female’s; otherwise, the marking would fail. After General Sears became famous following the “Theia Counterattack,” he had received over two hundred marking requests in a single month. He had been able to refuse some, but couldn’t avoid over a hundred others. None had succeeded. Consequently, among the noble males, Sears was dubbed “The Unmarkable General.”

Thinking of this, Sears gradually relaxed. If so many high-ranking noble males with superior psychic power hadn’t been able to mark him, surely he wouldn’t fall to a disabled little male? Regardless of success or failure, the act of marking itself was a destructive attack on a female’s psychic sea. Every failed attempt left Sears with a pounding headache for days.

“Master, your psychic issues require marking a female to connect psychic seas and alleviate them,” Little Silly added helpfully.

“Oh…” The little male nodded, remembering why he had bought the slave in the first place. “Actually, that’s not important. The main reason is because…”

“And this female slave’s psychic sea is on the verge of collapse; he needs the male to mark him to repair it,” Little Silly chirped happily.

The male paused, then turned to Sears. “Is that true? If I don’t mark you, will your psychic sea… be destroyed?”

That was true. Sears nodded to confirm. His psychic damage could indeed be repaired with a male’s psychic power after marking. But then again, he was fundamentally unmarkable. Therefore, his psychic sea was inevitably going to be lost, and he would never be able to link with the Ieason again. Although he had considered these consequences when he made his decisions, the thought of never being able to step onto that starship that had accompanied him through years of battle left Sears feeling a bit down. If the little male used this as an excuse to mark him, it was hard to refuse.

Just as Sears was thinking of how to decline, the male looked at him, conflicted, for a long time: “But, I already have a female I like…”

This was the first time in his adult life that Sears had been rejected by a male. Well, it made sense; he was covered in wounds, his psychic power was collapsing, and his face was ruined—he had indeed lost all utility. It was normal for the little male to be put off.

Still, Sears wanted to rub his temples. Where did this pure, innocent little male come from? If they wanted to, males could mark dozens or hundreds of females. The most excessive male Sears had known had marked thousands. He had never heard of a “one-to-one” relationship in Zerg society.

Since he couldn’t be marked anyway, Sears waved his hand, signaling he didn’t want to be marked.

But this gesture was misinterpreted; the male thought the poor female had despairingly given up on his own psychic sea and hastened to encourage him: “Hey, don’t lose hope…”

The little male hesitated for two seconds, then finally resolved: “Saving a life is better than building a seven-story pagoda. Between us, this will only be a purely medical relationship—healer and patient. The female I like will surely understand.”

Sears felt a flicker of sympathy for the female that this little male loved. Before he could stop him, the little male had already taken a knife from the light-brain, slashed his own palm, and dripped blood into a test tube.

A blood-marking. Sears stared, shocked, as the male bled for him. Very few males used this method anymore because it was painful and costly for their delicate bodies. Most males used a different “liquid.”

With a mix of gratitude and guilt, Sears didn’t refuse this time; he took the tube of the male’s blood. He then pointed to the muzzle clamped over his face.

The male took two steps back to a safe distance, then nodded at Little Silly. The light-brain stepped forward, using the male’s authorization to unlock the electronic lock on the muzzle. The heavy black metal was lifted away from Sears’ face. The tool that had been prying his teeth apart was finally removed, emitting a faint sound of skin tearing as it peeled away.

Once the muzzle was gone, the little male saw his slave’s face for the first time and gasped. If the little male’s face was unrealistically beautiful, then the female’s was unrealistically horrific. From cheekbone to chin, the left side of his face looked as if it had been dissolved, exposing raw red flesh and yellow tissue, with bone faintly visible in some spots. The male took one look and turned his back.

“Your face… how did this happen?”

Sears saw the little male was indeed too scared to look, so he grinned. The movement pulled at his face, causing searing pain, but he knew it made him look even more terrifying. “Hiss… cough, cough, cough!!”

Sears wanted to say, “It was strontium acid, a long-lasting chemical corrosive.” But when he opened his mouth, only a hoarse, wheezing sound emerged, quickly turning into a violent cough. D*mn it, I forgot I’d swallowed strontium acid too.

Only then did the male realize that the female was so severely injured he couldn’t even speak. He quickly had Little Silly hand over a simple text-to-speech translator, while he kept his back turned.

Sears took the device and typed with his functioning right hand. The translator emitted a voice identical to the light-brain’s: “It was strontium acid!”

The translator’s next sentence was: “How do I change the voice settings?”

Once the voice was adjusted to a normal, young female soldier’s tone, Sears continued: “Are you that scared of me? Do you regret helping with the marking?”

“I don’t…” the male protested weakly from behind, then asked: “Who did this to you?”

Who? Sears had a flash of many names—Jason, Perry, or maybe that one? But in the end, he typed: “Myself.”

This answer seemed to anger the male. He spun around, flames flickering in his golden eyes. “You shouldn’t waste your life like that. You want to die, but do you know how many soldiers die every day protecting us? They want to live, but they have no choice!”

“There are always accidents in life, but you have to live it well!”

“Master is right!” Little Silly applauded from the side.

Sears was stunned. He felt like he had just been lectured by a crippled little male. And, the words sounded so familiar.

Wasn’t this what I used to say to comfort my subordinates?

Sears felt the absurdity of lifting a rock only to drop it on his own foot. Under the male’s furious yet sincere gaze, he tilted his head back and drank the tube of blood. Although he knew the marking wouldn’t succeed, he didn’t want to let the little male’s effort go to waste. After all, the cut on his palm looked like it hurt.

The strontium acid wounds required pressure to heal, so after cleaning, the part of the muzzle that kept his teeth clamped was removed, and it was put back on. The difference was, he now had the right to remove it at will.

“I’ve ordered painkillers; they should arrive tomorrow. We rarely cook at home, but there are nutrient liquids of all flavors in the fridge. Tell Little Silly when you need them.”

“Little Silly is at your beck and call!”

“As for the marking, it will take some time to take effect. Don’t be impatient.”

Sears wasn’t impatient at all. Since the marking would never work, it would only lead to a worse headache later.

The little male did everything he could before preparing to leave. Sears quickly asked through the translator: “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why be so good to me? I’m just a female slave.” If he didn’t get an answer to this, Sears couldn’t sit still.

“I’m different from other males. I don’t really know what a ‘female slave’ is,” the male answered, then turned around and said, word by word: “I only know what a Zerg is.”

“They are my kind.”

As soon as the male left the room, Sears climbed off the bed and pressed himself against the door, listening for a while, confirming the male had left the house.

Sears returned to the bathroom, struggling for a long while with his shackled hands until he finally got the muzzle off. In the mirror, a face both familiar and strange looked back. The familiar black hair and blue eyes, but below the eyes, especially the left side, it was unrecognizable.

Strontium acid was a solvent with strong adhesion to biological tissue, making healing extremely difficult. Before his psychic issues, Sears had suffered strontium acid corrosion before; it had taken a full month to heal. After his psychic sea collapsed in his past life, the wounds on his face took nearly two years to grow over, leaving behind hideous, jagged scars. This was one of the prices he paid for escaping his death trap. He had to ruin his face so that the Zerg hunting him wouldn’t recognize him. His voice was the same.

Sears reached up to touch the wound and immediately clenched his teeth. It hurts. A searing, persistent, bone-deep pain. But this unbearable pain also made him feel alive. And now, with the little male’s help—amateur as it was—it was still better than rotting away in the landfill. The scars might turn out a little better this time.

As for that little male… Sears still didn’t trust him. He believed that every action had a cause and effect, and that dealing with males required a transaction. He didn’t believe in selfless kindness. If it existed, a deeper conspiracy must be hidden behind it.

By all logic, he should escape immediately. While the male was away, while he could still move his feet, while they weren’t on guard against a heavily wounded slave.

But… he was truly exhausted. Staying here for a few days didn’t seem to pose any immediate danger. He could plan his escape when the male’s true colors were revealed.

Besides, he really hadn’t expected to hear a male say, “Female slaves are my kind.”

After abandoning his escape plan for the moment, fatigue and pain surged again. Sears put the muzzle back on, curled up in bed, and soon fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke again, it was dark. Sears sat up abruptly, sensing an anomaly in his psychic sea. Psychic power that didn’t belong to him was slowly injecting into his mind, bit by bit repairing the riddled barriers of his psychic sea. The process wasn’t painful; on the contrary, it was gentle and greatly eased the headache from his damage. Yet, it left Sears feeling as if he had fallen into a frozen abyss.

He had been successfully marked!

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