The Male Zerg Cub Doesn’t Want to Be the Cannon Fodder Top - Chapter 3

“You are awake? Do not move, or your wounds will rip open again.”

Maurice was leaning over the edge of the bed, familiarly watching the strikingly beautiful black-haired female insect with a pair of green puppy eyes. His clear gaze was full of frank concern, carrying that specific blend of purity and silliness unique to a college student. It matched his four-head-tall, toddler-like appearance perfectly.

Eliotte stared into those bright eyes, unable to look away. His heart, which had been silent for so long, pumped fresh blood through his chest as he felt a long-lost trace of warmth. It had been a very long time since he had felt the temperature of another soul or the care of a fellow kind. It made him feel like a traveler dying of thirst in the desert, approaching a mirage of an oasis with a mix of longing and fear.

But soon, a thought struck the female insect. He raised his hand to cover his golden eyes, even though the movement caused the bone-deep wounds on his arm to gush blood once more. The cub in front of him likely did not know his status as a defeated criminal, which was the only reason he could look at him without a hint of disdain.

“I have been impolite. May I ask whose Lord Male’s territory this is?”

The female insect’s voice carried the hoarseness of excessive blood loss, yet it still held an elegant rhythm like classical music, which Maurice found quite marvelous. In two lifetimes, the college student had never dealt with elegant nobility, but because he was born naturally spirited and rebellious, he was not intimidated.

“This is my home. Technically, it is Count Schmidt’s hunting ground, but this area is remote and the Skynet coverage is not complete, so it is safe. Do not worry.”

Maurice assumed the female insect had just been harmed by a male and would want to escape male surveillance, so he specifically emphasized the safety of the location. However, the female insect’s body remained taut, not relaxing in the slightest.

“You are Count Schmidt’s female cub?”

Hearing that he was on Count Schmidt’s property, Eliotte’s face turned pale. He looked at the cub with a hint of scrutiny, appearing even more guarded and bitter.

“I, uh, I guess so.”

Maurice reached up to pull his hood tighter, claiming the identity with a guilty conscience. He did not want his status as a male to scare the heavily injured female or invite trouble. Following his movement, Eliotte’s gaze fell upon Maurice’s exposed, light-gray chubby paws. A flash of shock and realization crossed his golden eyes, further confirming the other’s status as a female cub.

Light gray skin was a symbol of blasphemy, a curse laid by the Mother Goddess upon females and sub-females who betrayed males and the gods.

As a female prince, Eliotte was more knowledgeable than most. Although this was the first time he had seen a gray-skinned insect, he knew of their existence. In the Empire, they were called Fallen Species. During the Empire’s founding, a group of females and sub-females betrayed the crown and fled into the Chaos Galaxy. This act enraged the Insect Mother, who handed down a divine punishment, cursing all traitors so that their skin would be ashen-white. They could no longer be marked by males, nor could they give birth to males, they could only procreate through female-female unions.

For thousands of years, the Empire had been exterminating the Fallen Species and silencing all rumors about them, effectively erasing the community from history. So, when Eliotte saw the cub’s light gray skin, he immediately confirmed the child’s identity, as only females and sub-females of the Fallen Species had gray skin.

No wonder this cub always wore a hood and lived in seclusion in the wilderness. No wonder he was bold enough to occupy a Count’s land, daring to cook and enjoy food so freely while rescuing other females. Eliotte surmised that the cub’s female father was likely a Fallen Species member who came to the Empire to make a living, and his male father was probably a noble, likely Count Schmidt himself. The Count might know of the cub’s existence and simply not care, or perhaps he was entirely unaware. After all, a male had countless female slaves and cubs, and a Fallen Species used for a bit of novelty would not even qualify to be a female slave.

This unique identity gave the cub a space to survive and a degree of freedom, fostering his bold and reckless personality.

Maurice had no idea what the picture-perfect female insect was thinking, he only noticed that the gaze falling upon him had become sorrowful and soft, tinged with a slight motherly affection and devoid of any contempt. During his time in the Lower District, Maurice had seen quite a bit. The chaotic, filthy Lower District was full of impoverished females and sub-females. Given the current male-to-female ratio of the Empire, most would never be marked by a male in their lifetime. Having lost all hope, they lived without restraint, and there was no shortage of those who were violent or treated life as cheap. As a small cub mingling among insects who lived by the blade, and with his obvious gray skin, Maurice had received plenty of strange looks and disdain.

Most insects Maurice met would refuse to speak to him because of his skin color, or even attack him. This taught Maurice to keep himself tightly wrapped in his hood. The black-haired female insect before him was likely the only one who had not reacted strangely to his color. The chubby cub stared at the blood soaking through the bandages on the female’s arm and started muttering.

“Your wounds are too deep, so it is better not to move. Your internal tissues probably need your own energy to heal. There is energy fluid on the black market, but”

But his pockets were truly empty, and he could not afford a single drop.

Though the gray-skinned cub’s face was hidden by the hood, his green eyes were so expressive, as if they could speak, that his worry was laid bare. Eliotte looked away as if burned and said softly.

“Thank you for saving me, but there is no need to trouble yourself. You probably do not know who I am, which is why you helped me.”

He adjusted his posture despite the cub’s disapproving look, sitting more decorously on the edge of the bed. Eliotte knew that if the cub knew his identity, he never would have brought him back, let alone shown him such warmth. The insect race admired strength and had historically shown no tolerance or sympathy for losers. The First Army he led had fled without a fight before the Rebel Army. Although there were no losses or casualties, it was the most shameful defeat in the history of insect warfare. When the news reached the Empire, all insects viewed him as a disgrace.

He slowly lowered the hand covering his face, no longer attempting to hide the golden eyes that symbolized royal blood. He lowered his gaze to his lap, thinking that if the cub recognized him, the child likely would not spare him another thought.

The black-haired female sat very straight. Amidst the cub’s messy little bed piled with blankets and leather, he still looked like a white crane standing still on the water, elegant in curve and moving in posture, as if he might take flight the next second, radiating tranquility and nobility to the extreme. Meanwhile, the chubby cub, who was sprawled shamelessly by the bed with his round face level with the female’s knee, tilted his head.

“Why? Are you an interstellar pirate who has killed countless people?”

Eliotte froze for a moment, realizing the cub had lived in seclusion for so long that he truly did not know his identity. He had just started to say, “No, but” when he was interrupted by the cub’s babbling.

“Then that is that! I do not care where you came from, but you really need energy and rest! Please stop sitting so elegantly. My place is for commoners.”

Through his hood, the chubby cub scratched at his messy, upturned black curls. He was curious about the female’s origins, of course, but he was not so low as to dig into someone’s private business. When he found the female, the man clearly had no will to live, and Maurice was not going to make things worse.

“What I mean is, this is not a palace. There are not that many rules. You need to make sure your wounds do not tear open again. It is best to lie down or lean against a pillow.”

Maurice looked up, his fleshy nose twitching. He suddenly bounced up, giving Eliotte no chance to speak.

“The soup! My soup is going to burn!”

In the next second, the chubby cub ran off so fast he left an afterimage in Eliotte’s slightly dazed eyes. A moment later, he walked back carrying a tray that was far too large for him. The food stacked on the tray blocked his vision, making him wobble like a chubby roly-poly toy.

“Here!” Maurice nimbly placed the food on a stand by the bed. It was a discarded robotic arm he had scavenged from the Lower District, it was made of good material and had wheels, so Maurice used it as a bedside table.

“Eat while it is hot! The thick soup might taste a bit burnt. If you do not like it, I also have beef bone soup with yams and mushrooms, and I will get you a bowl of that.”

Eliotte looked almost blankly at the messy spread before him that he somehow could not refuse. Amidst the rising aroma of the food, he felt as if a lifetime had passed. He had never been in a place so chaotic yet warm, had never appeared before another insect while disheveled, and had never seen so many things that violated Imperial law and social norms happen before his eyes. But also, no one had ever placed steaming food in front of him, looking at him with such concern and eagerness.

Even as a prince, even if he had not personally caused the shameful defeat of the Empire, he should not be treated this well. He was a criminal female, and no one should dare to be this good to him.

Seeing him not moving, Maurice pushed the food closer to him, then used his short legs to scramble onto the bed to stuff several cushions behind Eliotte, all while his little mouth never stopped.

“Even if you have no appetite, you have to eat a little more. Your wounds need your own energy to heal. Seasonings are too hard to buy, they are almost all exclusive to males. I can only make lightly seasoned food. If there is a flavor you particularly like, I will go into the forest to look for ingredients. Do not refuse to eat. I know you noble females follow Imperial discipline and have more female virtue, but the mountains are high and the Emperor is far away. The Insect Emperor cannot control things here, and the Mother Goddess is too lazy to care.”

Maurice had been a chatterbox in his previous life, and since transmigrating, he had talked his system into depression. Now, he would not stop babbling. His milky little voice filled the small space of the wooden hut, making Eliotte’s heart flutter in confusion. Instinctively, Eliotte picked up the spoon and brought the food to his mouth.

“That is the spirit.” The cub watched him with sparkling eyes, saying something incredibly bold. “There is a medical pod in the Schmidt Hunting Manor. Once you can walk, we will go use it. I really want to steal that medical pod, as it is one of the few good things they have.”

Eliotte choked on a mouthful of hot soup, his fair face flushing red from the cough.

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