The Male Zerg Cub Doesn’t Want to Be the Cannon Fodder Top - Chapter 16

The mechanical chimes rang out, and the shields of the transport pod descended. The cacophonous sounds of the main city’s central avenue flooded Maurice’s ears, pushing his barely stabilized spiritual sea back to the brink of collapse.

The hatch opened, and a hovering robot ascended. Several thick, energy-wrapped chains were fastened to its outer shell, while the other ends were shackled to the wrists and necks of the criminal female bugs of the First Army.

The machine showed no mercy. The hovering robot spurted several jets of blue energy flames, and Eliotte was dragged out of the cabin, unable to even find his footing.

The daylight of the border planet was at its peak, fiercely burning Eliotte’s eyes, which had not seen light for days. A female bug’s constitution is strong, and sensory stimulation of this magnitude would not usually cause discomfort, but this time, Eliotte nearly shed tears.

The central avenue was controlled by the Imperial Enforcement Team, separating the narrow Path of Shame in the middle from the spectating civilians. High-ranking males sat on the stands lining the path, surrounded by beautiful companions and strong liquor, their expensive robes shimmering in the sunlight.

Eliotte looked down at his hands, which were forced into a curled position against his chest. He did not look around; he simply focused all his effort on adjusting his posture to avoid showing any loss of composure.

He spent every ounce of his strength trying to maintain a steady pace and keep his back straight. His mind fluctuated between the endless void of the detention cell and the sea of blood and severed limbs from the cosmic battlefield.

He did not regret it, leading the First Army to desert the battle during the suppression of the rebels.

On the day of the war, the Fourth Army under Edwin’s leadership broke away from the attack range of the Third and First Armies. With no worries behind them, they immediately defected and joined the rebels. Under the orders of their male commander, the Third Army threw its entire force at the rebels, betting the lives of the entire legion to crush them.

The soldiers of the Third Army were like a pack of beasts devoid of pain or fear. They piloted warships directly into the rebel lines; once their ships were destroyed, those brain-controlled, walking-corpse-like female bugs unfurled their wings in the vacuum of space, tearing at the rebels like insignificant dust. When their bodies were damaged beyond a certain point, they detonated their energy cores, taking the rebels down with them.

This was the Female and Sub-female Neural Control and Will Eradication Protocol developed by the Imperial Research Institute under the leadership of the new Insect Emperor. The high-ranking males mockingly referred to it as the Puppet Project.

This project was first implemented on the female soldiers of the First and Third Armies. Although these soldiers had dominated the interstellar battlefields and brought victory after victory to the Zerg race, the powerful males remained dissatisfied that female bugs gained military ranks and glory through their service. They resented the ancient imperial regulation that the four major legions were controlled by female bugs with distinguished military merits. They hated that the military department was filled only with the shadows of lowly female and sub-female bugs.

Instead of joining the legions and earning merit through their own strength and blood, the males chose to seize the power of the legions directly.

And why not? When female and sub-female bugs were nothing more than pitiful creatures crawling at the feet of the sons of God; when even high-level female bugs had to retire in their prime and kneel at the feet of males to beg for marking and pheromones to stay alive; when the spiritual tentacles of males possessed high-dimensional power, where a casual lash could shatter a high-level female’s spiritual sea.

The males thought, “Why not simply turn the female bugs into marionettes? A tool without thoughts is the most convenient tool.”

So they did it. The Fourth Army, which remained uncontrolled under the protection of Admiral Edwin, became the outcasts of the imperial legions and was sent to the front lines to perish with the rebels. When the Fourth Army escaped, the Third Army became insignificant sacrifices under the command of a male Prince. What did the males care about tactics or skill? They only knew that female bugs were consumables; if these were not enough to suppress the rebellion, they would simply fill the hole with other legions.

Yet, even without tactics, the Third Army dealt a heavy blow to the newly formed rebel army. If the First Army had joined the fray, the rebels would have had no way out.

In the First Army, Eliotte was the only female bug who had not been brain-controlled. He had fought with all his might to stop the male commander from throwing away the First Army, ensuring that his brain-controlled comrades did not step onto a battlefield of no return to slaughter their own kind.

Ironically, his exception stemmed from the lewd favoritism shown by his male brother, Klein. Eliotte had been Klein’s designated toy since childhood, and Klein always preferred to toy with his prey personally; crudely brain-controlling Eliotte did not fit his aesthetic.

He wanted to dismantle Eliotte’s will from the inside, from the soul, bit by bit, until he sank into oblivion while fully conscious, becoming one of Klein’s exquisite collectibles.

And Eliotte knew that Klein was about to succeed.

His strength was being used to walk this Path of Shame, to maintain what little remained of his dignity; in the end, he was exhausted and unable to block out the outside world. The buzzing discussions of the border planet residents continuously reached his ears. They said:

“How did a female bug born of the Golden Feather royal family produce a coward like Eliotte?”

“Disgrace! He brings shame to the Empire! It is because of him that the blasphemous rebels of Planet Tiangong are still rampant! Why does he not just die?”

“If I were him, I would never dare set foot in the Empire again. How does he still dare to return?”

“The male Lords on the star network say that he wandered the palace for years without being given to a male noble for marriage because of his total debauchery and shamelessness. He seduced his own royal brother, the noble Lord Klein!”

“How did we female bugs produce such scum? It is because of bugs like him that the male Lords refuse to mark more of us; they fear such wanton, shameless creatures!”

“This heretic should be burned alive by energy flames! He does not deserve to live! Why does he still carry the name of the Golden Feather royal family?”

“Exactly! Why not just execute him directly? A failed female soldier does not deserve to live! Nor does he deserve the favor of a male Lord!”

“Burn him! Disgrace! Disgrace! Just go die, Eliotte!”

The hissing and cursing from the crowd were incessant. A short, chubby, four-head-tall figure wearing a hood was mixed among the civilians, eyes locked tightly onto the shackled figure, the corners of his lips leaking fresh, red blood.

The uncontrollable flames in Maurice’s chest surged again. A strange murderous intent caused his emerald eyes to gradually cloud with a blood-red tint. He watched as the crowd’s curses grew more fervent, and on the highest stand, Duke Schmidt, his well-maintained face twisting into a satisfied, mocking sneer, raised his hand. The enforcement team immediately understood; the robot pulling the shackled prisoner suddenly accelerated, dragging the paraded criminal into a stumble.

Eliotte fell to one knee in the middle of the crowded street. His knee let out a sharp crack, but the emotionless robot continued to pull, dragging him forward several meters. The dignity he had fought so hard to maintain was ground into the dirt.

Maurice watched as Eliotte struggled to regain his balance, like a doe struck by a hunter, kicking her slender legs in refusal. Tears rolled down Maurice’s face, soaking into the edge of his hood, while the rowdy crowd around him felt satisfied by the humiliation. They cheered, saying ventingly:

“This is better! Why should he look half-dead yet unbothered? He let a thousand years of female glory vanish into smoke and made us female and sub-female bugs lose face in front of the male Lords! How else can we let the Lords know that we are not like this useless coward!”

“Let the Storm Ants devour his flesh! Use poison glands to destroy that sinful skin he used to lure the Emperor!”

“Die! Die! Why does Count Schmidt not just execute him? Has even the Count been bewitched by his appearance?”

“Silence! How dare you slander the Count! Even if he spares his life, it is only to humiliate him better! I heard that today, the Count is going to let the males of our planet toy with him, making him useful by birthing high-level female bugs or a new male Lord!”

“How is he worthy? He is a coward!”

“Of course he isn’t worthy! But who told him to have Golden Feather royal blood?”

In the midst of the clamor, some hot-tempered female and sub-female bugs even wanted to resort to violence, rushing toward the struggling Eliotte to teach the coward a lesson personally, only to be stopped by the enforcement team’s half-hearted restraint. Maurice watched as Eliotte was dragged several meters on the ground before he finally found his balance again, scrambling up in disarray. Maurice’s chubby fingers pierced into his own palms.

“I am sorry, just wait a little longer.”

The cub felt like he was going to vomit. In his sight, Eliotte stood up and tried to help the other shackled criminals of the First Army who had been pulled down, but not a single one responded to his outstretched hand. Those puppet-like female soldiers repeated the same motions, feeling no pain, no humiliation, and no shame.

Their minds and souls were no longer in this world. Eliotte looked at them in confusion, and the last barrier in his eyes shattered.

His comrades were no longer his comrades. All that remained in this world was his own filthy self, his imperial compatriots who viewed him as an enemy, and the high-ranking males waiting to suck the marrow from his bones.

He was alone and without help.

In his daze, Eliotte’s hands and body began to tremble uncontrollably. His waterfall of black curly hair fell forward, obscuring half of his bloodless, exquisite face. He finally showed the proper look of panic and unease, and the barrier maintained by his last shred of dignity collapsed entirely.

At this moment, the male Count on the high platform finally felt satisfied. Leading several lower-ranking male administrators, he condescendingly stepped onto a hovering platform, slowly descending from above to hover over Eliotte in a hypocritical posture, forcing the female bug to look up at him.

“Your Highness,” the middle-aged male said in a soft voice, the disdain in his tone unconcealed. “You are too rude. If you have regained your senses, perhaps you should try begging your masters for mercy, using those charms you are so good at to please us. Witnessed by the entire planet and the Schmidt ancestors, if you work hard enough, you might have a chance to become a female slave of the Schmidt family. I have always been a lenient master; the rulers of other planets, I am afraid, will not be so easy to talk to.”

Amidst the malicious laughter of the males, blood dripped bit by bit from Eliotte’s fingertips, staining the hem of his white clothes crimson. And accompanying his soft but firm “No” was the roar of male power piercing through space.

“The one who should beg for mercy is you!”

A voice saturated with power rippled through the main city, the thick energy obscuring both its tone and location. But no bug bothered to look for the source, because at that moment, every gaze was fixed on the massive gray void tearing open behind Count Schmidt.

It was a wormhole, ripped open by a male’s spiritual tentacles with raw, brutal force.

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