After Transmigrating, I Raised Cubs in the Insectoid Clan - Chapter 23

The male insect’s lips trembled violently. Saliva slid from the corner of his mouth, trailing a bright, glistening streak down his deathly pale chin.

“Bo… Bo…”

“Boerner?” Suter finished the word softly, his tone almost tender. But in the next second, his fingers suddenly tightened. The bones emitted a faint, brittle crack under the pressure. A broken sob escaped the male’s throat, and deep purple bruises immediately bloomed across the side of his neck.

Suter narrowed his eyes. His patience was vanishing at a visible rate. This male was being far too disobedient; even on the brink of collapse, his mouth still spewed lies.

Suter let out a cold laugh. His fingertips nimbly flicked open the hidden buckle at the male’s waist and pulled out the concealed light-brain. He pressed a few digits randomly before tossing it aside like a piece of trash.

“My patience is limited,” his voice was low and dangerous. “If you insist on lying, I do not mind sending you to meet the Insect God.”

His combat boots ground into the pool of blood on the floor. When Suter leaned down, the silver hair falling over his forehead cast a web-like shadow across the male’s face. He stared at the distorted reflection in the other’s pupils and suddenly smiled. This smile made the bloodstains on half of his face come alive, looking like a crimson centipede writhing under the light.

“Of course, that would be the most merciful way to die.”

“By contrast,” the cold blade slid gently across the male’s Adam’s apple, as if measuring the precise location for a cut, “I am more inclined toward those one hundred interrogation methods you just mentioned.”

“What do you think?”

Suter’s gaze was like a venomous snake, crawling slowly and cruelly over the male’s face, admiring the expression distorted by terror.

“It is… it is Mr. Boer!” the male finally broke down, his voice so raspy it nearly tore. “He was the one who told us to inject that thing immediately after catching you! I was only following orders; I do not know anything else! Please!”

“Oh? Is that so?” Suter slowly straightened his back, a cold arc curving his lips. Half of his face was submerged in shadow, while the dried blood on the other half glinted dark red under the light, making those emerald eyes appear even more eerie.

He laughed softly. The blade between his fingers wandered slowly over the male’s cheek, the freezing metal pressed tight against the trembling skin, as if it would carve out a bloody trail at any moment.

“What a shame,” he whispered, his voice as light as a sigh. “Your answer… makes me very dissatisfied.”

“I… I have already told you everything I know! What else do you want?!” the male shrieked hysterically, his voice a mixture of terror and despair.

“Too late.” Suter’s voice was barely a whisper. Those emerald eyes, almost entirely consumed by darkness, looked down at him as if staring at a dying ant. “I do not like… late answers.”

The blade moved down slowly, flicking open the last button. The young male’s body was exposed to the freezing air, his pale skin covered in bruises and bloodstains like a broken doll that had been treated roughly.

“Did you know?” Suter’s finger slid slowly up the midline of the male’s body, from the navel to the Adam’s apple, finally pressing a blood-stained finger against the corner of his mouth. “The ‘Divine Water’ they gave you is eating your internal organs from the inside out.”

The male’s pupils contracted suddenly.

“You should have noticed by now,” Suter’s breath fanned against his ear. “That sensation… of flesh and blood melting away bit by bit.”

“It has been getting stronger recently, which is why you were so impatient. You were desperate to do something so you could exchange your service for more ‘Divine Water’ from them to alleviate the symptoms.”

The male’s breathing suddenly became ragged.

Whenever it was quiet at night recently, he could always hear strange, squelching sounds from inside his body, as if countless maggots were feasting on his marrow.

The tip of the knife suddenly pressed against the male’s abdomen, pushing down slightly. “But if you just release it—through pheromones, or…” the blade carved a tiny line of blood, “a more direct way… you can relieve this pain.”

“A male who was forcibly elevated to Rank A through potions,” Suter’s fingertip tapped the blade, the metal emitting a faint vibration, “should at least know some basic spiritual power manifestation, right?”

The male’s pupils contracted violently.

His rusted thoughts turned with difficulty amidst his fear. The words spoken by his godfather when the Divine Water was bestowed suddenly exploded in his mind:

Drink this, and you shall touch the authority of the gods.

Pheromones will no longer be mere soft tools to soothe female insects.

They will be weapons that can tear through flesh.

Fragments of memory churned in his mind like razor blades. He remembered the training in the dark rooms he had accidentally glimpsed. He remembered the godfather demonstrating a crimson blade condensed from pure pheromones.

Suter narrowed his eyes with pleasure, watching the madness and calculation flash in the male’s eyes. What a familiar emotion: that twisted murderous intent that the male thought was hidden so well.

He suddenly felt bored.

“Have a taste.” Suter shoved his blood-stained finger into the male’s mouth, forcing him to taste the copper flavor of his own blood.

In the next second, as the dagger plunged into the abdomen, Suter felt the subtle resistance of muscle fibers being sliced layer by layer. The male’s face distorted into a grotesque mask of agony.

His pupils dilated, and his mouth twitched uncontrollably as saliva mixed with blood spilled from between his teeth.

“Cough… urgh…”

Warm blood gushed out, splashing onto Suter’s pale wrist. He watched with fascination as the crimson meandered across his skin, and he suddenly let out a low laugh. How interesting; these high and mighty males were now nothing more than twitching slabs of meat on a cutting board.

“The pain truly has been relieved, has it not?”

The metal blade made a squelching sound as it stirred within the abdominal cavity. The male’s scream rose sharply before breaking into a wheeze.

“What would you do?” Suter gazed into the other’s vacant pupils, as if looking through this dying body at some non-existent phantom. “If the roles were reversed… if the one pinned to the dissection table was a female insect who could not resist…”

Just like those female insects who were sold into the Underground City, whether voluntarily or by force.

He suddenly pulled out the dagger, bringing a segment of slippery intestine with it. The answer was self-evident.

These monsters in human skin would only play even dirtier.

The air suddenly exploded with the thick scent of jasmine, so sweet it turned sickening. Suter inhaled this scent of death-struggle pheromones and suddenly bowed elegantly. “What a shame.”

The tip of the knife hooked under the male’s bloody chin. “Pheromones below Rank S.”

“They cannot even make me excited.”

The intense pain arrived without warning.

The world before Suter’s eyes suddenly shattered. The ceiling distorted into a vortex of flesh and blood, and the lights burned crimson brands onto his retinas. Viscous plasma seeped from the walls, gathering into a writhing river of blood on the floor.

The most terrifying things were the shadows.

Countless versions of “himself” holding knives crawled out of the darkness. Their combat boots made squelching echoes in the pools of blood. They simultaneously raised blood-stained daggers, the tips all pointing directly at the space between his eyebrows.

And the dying male at his feet…

That pale face suddenly split into an exaggerated grin, the corners of the mouth tearing all the way to the ears to reveal rows of white teeth. Broken vocal cords vibrated, spitting out a silent curse:

Mon-ster…

The agonizing pain submerged his sanity like a tide.

Suter let out a low laugh, pressing his knuckles against his throbbing temple.

As expected, the things Saren had left for him were still affecting his body.

He truly had been remodeled into a monster.

“But do you things not require a monster to deal with you?”

A set of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.

Suter slowly straightened his back. The blood-stained dagger made a wet sound as it was pulled from the male’s chest. Blood splattered across his pale cheek. He stuck out his tongue and licked it, his smile becoming increasingly frenzied.

“They are here.”

Bang!

The moment the door was violently kicked open, a white figure charged in like a sharp arrow. Suter’s muscle memory acted before his thoughts; the dagger left his hand, aimed straight for the throat. At the same time, he bent down to grab a gun and, without looking back, delivered a finishing headshot to the dying male on the floor.

The entire sequence of movements was as smooth as flowing water, completed within a single breath.

But the white figure seemed to have predicted everything. He stepped aside to avoid the flying blade, and a split second before Suter could pull the trigger, a combat boot accurately kicked his wrist. The firearm flew several meters away, hitting the wall with a crisp metallic clang.

“Tsk.” The crimson in Suter’s eyes deepened, and his bone wings suddenly unfurled! The transparent wing membranes glinted with a cold, hard silver metallic luster under the light as they stabbed toward the opponent.

The white-clad figure finally let out his first muffled groan. But before Suter could feel triumphant, a freezing sting came from the side of his neck. A needle plunged mercilessly into his artery, and the sedative was fully administered.

“Suter, wake up.”

Slade retreated quickly, his blood-stained white wool coat tracing a fan-shaped arc in the air. He clutched his right arm, which had been pierced by the bone wing; blood dripped through his fingers, blooming into a startling red on the floor.

Suter shook his head. The blood-red color in his pupils gradually faded, but his eyes remained abnormal vertical slits.

“Your spiritual sea must be soothed.” Slade wiped the blood from his glasses with a cold face. “If you continue like this, you will not be able to distinguish friend from foe on the battlefield. If the situation continues to deteriorate, I will have to reconsider the feasibility of the plan…”

Slap!

The bone wing swept across, and Slade was sent flying, crashing heavily into the pool of blood. Suter walked slowly to the door, his boots grinding over the mess on the floor. He kicked the door shut with a loud bang.

“You still like wearing this disgusting white.”

The sound of his approaching footsteps was like a countdown to death. Slade propped himself up, not worried that the other would kill him. After all, they were…

Allies.

That thought was shattered in the next second.

Slap!

A harsh slap landed on his face, the force so great that his gold-rimmed glasses flew off and smashed against the wall. Suter pinched his chin, his dark eyes sweeping over his pale cheek before settling on the ring worn on the middle finger of his right hand.

“Heh.”

The cold laugh was like a snake crawling over the back of the neck.

Suter’s venomous gaze stared at that ring. It was the one he had bought for Boerner. He had drunk nothing but original-flavored nutritional supplements for three whole months and had even given up his one precious monthly opportunity to eat at the cafeteria to afford it.

And now, that ring was being worn on the hand of this stupid fellow in front of him.

“If the Chief of Police had arrived any later,” Suter sneered at his pathetic state, “perhaps he would have seen an even more exciting performance.”

Slade took a deep breath. “No one told me there would be an explosion.”

“Furthermore, do you think the people sent by Fang Ye are pushovers? It takes time for me to sneak over alone and deal with all of them.”

“Time? I thought the events of five years ago were enough to teach you a lesson. I did not expect you to still be this stupid.”

Slade gave him a long look, unwilling to say another word. He turned his gaze to the injured male in the corner. The other man looked like he had suffered a mental breakdown; his eyes were unfocused and staring blankly at the ceiling while he muttered to himself.

Slade sat calmly in the middle of a pool of blood and said softly, “Saren is dead.”

Suter’s movements suddenly came to a halt.

His emerald vertical pupils contracted into thin lines. His non-human irises shimmered with an eerie glow under the harsh white lights.

“Is this also part of the plan?”

Suter was silent for a moment before saying, “No.”

Slade took another deep breath. “Then it was an accident.”

“Fang Ye will not let this opportunity go,” Slade said as he picked up his glasses, his voice calm. “They will stop at nothing to drag you down.” He raised his hand to wipe the blood from his lenses. “Then they will elect their puppet to take over.”

“Then let them come,” Suter said. “I happen to want to see…”

“How many traitors can be lured out this time.”

Slade remained silent for a while. “Rescuing you will take time and negotiation. You will have to look after yourself in there; I will do my best to make arrangements…”

“Do not go to so much trouble.”

Suter interrupted him. “Did you not recently seize a batch of prohibited drugs? Send one in. You do not need to worry about the rest; I can handle it.”

Slade frowned at him. “But that is…”

“I know.”

The silver bone wings behind him had already been retracted. The blood-covered man stood in the middle of the small room that had been disguised as an interrogation chamber. The cold white lights enveloped him in a deathly pale glow; his eyelashes appeared almost transparent under the strong light, and the shadows they cast were like the wings of a dying butterfly.

For a brief moment, Slade thought he would collapse. This fellow, who was always so aggressive, currently looked as fragile as a piece of art made of shattered glass.

“I said, I want him back.”

“I want him back safe and sound.”

Support