“Space Octopuses are a type of biological weapon, foundational units of the Swarm, capable of transforming into other forms when necessary. An intriguing concept,” a Riken officer remarked.
“They can mutate into a purplish-gray, flesh-like tissue that appears designed for rapid nutrient absorption, enabling them to divide and proliferate quickly, converting planetary surfaces into ecological environnts conducive to Swarm operations. The transformations of Planet Raze and Planet Izumo support this hypothesis. Yes, that seems accurate.”
“Can they also mutate into Swarm production buildings? Although we’ve yet to identify the exact appearance of these functional structures, the sudden ergence of new Swarm units on battlefields—like Burrowing Worms on Planet Raze and Laser-Eye Bugs on Planet Izumo—provides indirect evidence.”
“Space Octopuses can absorb energy to grow rapidly? We observed hints of this in the asteroid belt, but we couldn’t confirm it at the ti?”
“Hmm? Is this data incorrect?” One officer questioned in disbelief.
“No, it’s exactly as you see,” Berry replied with a bitter smile. This revelation was the source of his despair.
“The Swarm is producing over 10,000 Little Octopus Freaks daily. With their growth rate, it would take just five years for them to evolve from 5 ters to 500 ters?!” the officer exclaid.
“Precisely. Thanks to their deactivation of cloaking, we can now observe and differentiate them despite their overwhelming numbers and near-identical appearances. This conclusion is based on extensive tracking and analysis of every visible Swarm unit, recording all observed changes,” Berry explained.
“So, for the next two years, we’ll be facing an additional 10,000 enemies every day?”
“To be precise, 10,000 additional 500-ter-class Space Octopuses daily,” Berry corrected.
“…”
Despair began to spread like a virus. How could anyone continue this fight?
Two years from now, the Riken fleet’s numbers would likely remain under 5,000 ships. For illustration: assuming 5,000 ships versus 500 Primordial bodies on day one, the ratio would shift to 5,000:30,000 by the next day, then 5,000:40,000, and so on…
How could they possibly win?
Could they strike now, before the enemy units matured?
The answer was simple—wishful thinking.
The growth from 5 ters to 500 ters was a process, not a single event. It wasn’t as though eggs required five years to hatch directly into 500-ter-class Space Octopuses.
The Space Octopuses destined to mature into Primordial bodies in two years were already at least 300 ters long. While they might not yet match the strength of a fully developed Primordial body, they far outclassed regular Mature or Larval bodies.
Moreover, the Swarm had deployed extensive land-based railguns on the moons of Planet Izumo, effectively denying the Riken any opportunity for counterattack.
“Is this information accurate?” another officer asked.
“These conclusions were ticulously verified. The Swarm deactivated their cloaking precisely to ensure we could observe this.”
“What a blatantly unfair production system! Surely there must be so kind of flaw or vulnerability?” soone muttered in frustration.
Berry thought for a mont, then shook his head and said, “General, they only need to produce the larvae of their bioweapons and let them grow naturally—just like we Rikens grow from children to adults. This appears to be unique to the biotechnology route. Since my expertise doesn’t cover this field, I can’t provide an accurate assessnt. However, we don’t know how long the Swarm’s history is. If they’ve always used this thod to sustain production, the technology must be extrely mature, with a low probability of defects.”
“What confidence! Is this their way of achieving victory without fighting? This information must be relayed to President Antonio imdiately. We don’t have the authority to make decisions on this matter.”
The gathered generals, though usually at the pinnacle of authority, guiding the civilization’s future, instinctively deferred in this mont. This was a monuntal burden, and naturally, it had to be shouldered by the one with the highest authority.
anwhile, after their initial despair, many Rikens oddly felt a sense of relief.
Many had already suspected their chances of victory were slim. The Swarm’s silent, uncommunicative, and relentless style left no room for alternatives. After all, this wasn’t an internal civil war; without absolute enmity, there was always a glimr of hope.
But against an alien species, uncertainties abounded. One only needed to look at how few other species remained alive on the Riken howorld to understand this. Losing here could very well an extinction.
Given the Swarm’s demonstrated capabilities, it would take only a few more years for the Rikens to be completely overrun. If extermination were their goal, the Swarm could simply remain hidden and strike when ready.
However, the Swarm had suddenly “offered terms for surrender.” This suggested two things: first, the Swarm was open to communication; second, the Rikens still held so value to the Swarm. They didn’t seek the Riken’s complete extinction.
If communication was possible, negotiation could also be an option. The Rikens believed they might have a chance to exploit other avenues so long as open combat could be avoided.
President Antonio had returned to the Riken howorld shortly after the front-line mobilization conference on Planet Riven. The howorld was his domain, and the front lines were best left to the specialists.
When Antonio received the report, it took him a long while to process the information. This was, in his words, an absolutely colossal “surprise.”
Over the next few days, Antonio worked through multiple channels to repeatedly verify the data. Only after ruling out the possibility that front-line commanders were deliberately sabotaging him did he slump into the sofa in his office.
Although it seed unlikely, part of him had hoped this was just a cruel prank—a piece of disinformation designed to provoke chaos. Unfortunately…
With no higher authority above him in the Riken hierarchy, Antonio had no choice but to bear the full weight of this revelation. This realization left him montarily paralyzed with despair.
He had ruled for over 50 years, slowly consolidating all power into his hands through unparalleled political acun. Were it not for the threat of the Swarm, he might already have declared himself Emperor.
When the Rikens had held off the Swarm’s first wave of attacks on Planet Raze, Antonio had felt invincible, as though he had reached the pinnacle of his career. He had even been sowhat grateful to the Swarm; without the opportunities they presented, he could never have risen so far.
But everything turned out to be an elaborate deception. A few years later, the Swarm returned in force. Despite the Riken’s significant advancents, they were crushed once the Swarm revealed their true strength.
In the years that followed, the situation deteriorated rapidly. Planet Izumo, previously deed insignificant, had beco a crucial stronghold for the Swarm, plunging the Rikens into a desperate struggle. Antonio’s once-dominant position had fallen into chaos.
And now, the Swarm was offering them terms for surrender.
Antonio, hunched into his office sofa, had visibly aged in recent days. Though he was still in his pri, the strain had taken its toll. Furrowing his brows, he sat in deep thought.
Becoming Emperor was no longer a priority. His focus had shifted to securing an exit strategy for his people—and himself.
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