Just as the brain worm stretched its trembling limbs toward the black mist given by Cillian, driven by unbearable pain, something inside it shifted.

In that moment.

Even though it had never found meaning in its existence since gaining consciousness, for some unknown reason, it still refused to die so easily.

Its limbs retracted, curling back into itself, as if clinging to the last spark of life.

The pain continued, an agony unlike anything any living being could comprehend. This was not a sensation of the body or soul. It was the concept of pain itself, extracted and purified by Cillian from the soul fragments of the Endless Abyss.

Of course, this technique sounded almost divine. But in truth, most gods could replicate such a method through the use of their divine fire.

In the auction houses of higher worlds, there were even "deaths" for sale, conceptual entities no different from this purified pain.

These were not illusions or curses, but ideas manifested into tangible suffering. They did not harm body or soul.

They simply were pain, an existence that placed the victim into a state of endless torment beyond any torture that mortals could imagine.

"Squeak… ah…"

The brain worm curled on the cold ground, its thin body twisting in endless spasms.

Cillian, however, showed no concern that the creature's mind would shatter. He knew the Zerg's nervous system was completely unlike that of humanoid beings.

What would have driven a human insane was, to the Zerg, merely an unbearable but survivable storm.

Finally, after nearly an hour of convulsions, the brain worm fell silent, weakly collapsing into itself.

Damon quickly ordered two lesser brains to be brought forward. The nutrient-rich tissues were placed beside the fallen creature, and it instinctively consumed them, one after another.

After devouring several brains, the creature's trembling ceased, and it slowly rose again.

"I don't understand," it murmured, its voice fragile yet thoughtful. "I don't understand why I couldn't face death calmly. I believed my thoughts had no meaning, yet… I resisted dying."

The brain worm lifted its gaze toward Cillian, asking with almost childlike sincerity:

"Why?"

Cillian smiled faintly. "Actually," he admitted, "I don't understand that question either."

"I'm not a philosopher or a sage. I don't pretend to grasp those ultimate truths."

The worm stared at him with its many eyes, waiting.

"But don't you think," Cillian continued, his tone calm, "that now that you can think, you can search for that answer yourself?"

He took a slow step forward, voice low but clear.

"All the pain and confusion you felt before, those were because you had no purpose. No direction. But now that you've found something to move toward, do you still feel that same confusion?"

The brain worm fell silent. Its mind, sharp yet naïve, struggled to find an answer.

Then, Damon intervened, sending a mental pulse to assist its thought process. After a brief communion, the worm finally nodded.

"Thank you for answering my question," it said softly. "But I still don't understand one thing."

"Why did you give me life in the first place? Do you wish to be my creator?"

It tilted its head, its voice eerily calm.

"But that position already belongs to the Hive Mind. You cannot replace my mother. Or… do you wish to compete with her for the title of…."

Cillian waved a hand, cutting it off.

"that question is much simpler."

"The reason I gave you life and thought was not because of some divine intention. It was merely a whim, a passing curiosity."

His gaze grew colder.

"To me, you're nothing more than a rare specimen. An accidental creation."

"Your intelligence means little. What truly matters to me is the knowledge within your mind, the structure of the swarm, the secrets of the Hive Will's network. That is your value."

"In short," he said flatly, "you were an accident."

The brain worm nodded without hesitation. "I understand."

It did not show anger, nor gratitude, nor despair. Zerg creatures had long since abandoned such emotions. In their evolutionary path, anything unnecessary for survival had been discarded.

Complex feelings only weakened the swarm.

"Lord," Damon interjected quickly, sensing the shift in Cillian's tone, "the brain worm has immense value in the Endless Abyss. It's far more than a specimen to dissect."

He spoke cautiously, for he knew Cillian could destroy the creature at any moment if it ceased to be useful.

"I've already analyzed its structure," Cillian replied. "As you suspected, aside from its brain, its physical form is nearly identical to that of an ordinary Zerg."

"What defined it as a 'Will-node' is a single additional neural organ, one tied directly to swarm communication. Genetically, it's no different from the others."

"In other words," he concluded, "every strange mutation we see among them, every variant, is just a random genetic accident during hatching."

Damon fell silent as Cillian blinked, realization dawning.

"So, all the Zerg," Cillian murmured, "are just the same damn bugs? The soldiers, the cleaners, the swarm beasts, they're all identical?"

The brain worm shook its head slowly, in a gesture almost human.

"Great Lord of the Abyss," it said, "your understanding is partially correct, but incomplete."

"In essence, under the guidance of the Hive Will, all Zerg are equal. The concept of individuality, of difference, means nothing to us. The division into combat types or worker types is only functional. At the core, we are all the same."

"You may think of it this way: the Hive Mind, the combat swarms, the larvae, the cleaners, every one of us…"

"…is the same being. Each of us is a fragment of the Mother hive."

Cillian's expression shifted. A faint chill passed through his heart as the implications took form in his mind.

A deep, instinctive unease crept through him.

He turned to the creature, his voice lower now, almost grave.

"So," he asked, "if that's true… does that mean there's no such thing as a single 'Master Brain' among your kind?"

He took a step closer.

"As long as one of you still exists, just one bug, the entire swarm can never truly…"

His voice trailed off.

"…be extinguished?"

When Cillian asked this question, the brain worm nodded without hesitation.

"That's right, great Lord of the Abyss. You are correct."

"As long as even one insect, or rather, one incarnation of the Hive Mind, still lives, then as long as there are enough resources, the Hive will restart."

"But to be more precise, as long as our Zerg genes survive, once we obtain a new Mother, the will of the Hive will revive."

Cillian's expression darkened instantly. For a moment, he could almost feel death breathing near him.

It wasn't fear of the Zerg's power that chilled him, but the realization born from the brain worm's words, a truth he had overlooked.

These Zerg were not the clumsy, toy-like mortals once designed by gods for their experiments and games.

No, these creatures were alive in a way that defied divine order.

⸻———x——————

Elsewhere…

In a grand strategy chamber suspended above the battlefield, the Angel of Punishment, Peter, frowned deeply at the holographic sand table before him.

On the illuminated surface, countless blue markers represented the advancing legions of Heaven's Army. But among them, a single red dot flickered, its position slightly off from the rest of the formation.

"Maeve," Peter said sharply, his voice echoing against the metal walls. "Why has the 7304th Heaven Legion's advance slowed? They should've reached the northern frontier last week."

The angel beside him, Maeve, opened her eyes, and sparks burst from the metal tubes along her spine. Her voice, reverberated through the chamber.

"My brother Peter, forgive the slow advance of the 7304th Legion," she said softly. "The body of their commander was destroyed yesterday. Though the soul was recovered, the backup vessel aboard the flagship was damaged during the last battle with the flying Zerg. It will take two to three days before the commander can return to the front."

"The legion is currently led by the deputy commander. His combat and command ratings are superior to…"

"Enough. I understand," Peter interrupted impatiently.

He leaned back, irritation flickering across his features. Truth be told, he despised Maeve.

Her body, a fusion of flesh and machine, was a marvel of divine bioengineering, her mind capable of processing more data than any supercomputer in Heaven's ranks. Yet to Peter, she was a soulless thing.

Her transformation had stripped her beauty, replaced her voice with static, and erased her emotions. She viewed war as equations and death as probability. To Peter, that made her unbearable.

Still, she was useful. Without her cold precision, he would be blind to half the chaos consuming the battlefield.

"Maeve," he ordered, his tone cooling again, "scan the surface. Find where the Zerg's main brain is hiding."

The sand table flickered with shifting light, displaying zones of fire, impact craters, and burning sky. The war had dragged on for two weeks, an eternity measured in blood.

In this age of cosmic conflict, two weeks was barely a skirmish by divine standards. But for Heaven's soldiers, bound by mortal limitations of will and spirit, it was a descent into madness.

Humans, and the humanoid hosts of Heaven's armies, grew weary. They needed rested, But the Zerg did not.

They came endlessly from every direction.

In battles against such creatures, the very concept of time lost meaning. There were only two outcomes, either the Zerg were annihilated, or they overran everything.

Now, Heaven's Army stood on that fragile edge.

Even with their miraculous technology and divine fire blessings, their soldiers could only rest for two hours before returning to combat. Their bodies might endure, but their minds… their minds were breaking.

No enchantment or divine machine could replace what they truly needed, silence.

A single hour of peace.

"Scan complete, Peter," Maeve's voice broke the silence. "I've located seven hundred and sixty-nine nodes consistent with Hive Mind signatures. Shall I deploy strike units to purge each coordinate?"

Peter's eyes dimmed. Fatigue shadowed the gold in them.

He stared at the glowing sand table, the countless red markers pulsing like open wounds.

"Maeve," he said after a long pause, "among these seven hundred and sixty-nine nodes… can you tell which one is the true Hive Mind?"

Maeve's mechanical head tilted slightly, gears whirring beneath her skin.

"I'm sorry, Peter," she replied. "Each time we destroy a Hive Mind, the surrounding Zerg lose coordination temporarily. But within ten minutes, a new node reappears."

"Our data presents three possibilities."

Her eyes flickered with shifting code.

"One: we've only destroyed the Hive Mind's tentacles, not the main body. The connection to the swarm was severed but quickly regrown."

"Two: the Hive Mind's true body was indeed destroyed, but its consciousness resurrects through remaining Zerg units. We must find a method to block this resurrection."

"Three: the Hive Mind's real form is hidden beyond detection. Our attacks have been misdirected and it's all bait. A rescan is necessary."

Peter exhaled harshly, dragging his hand through his golden hair.

"Three possibilities…" he muttered. "That's just another way of saying you don't know a damn thing."

He slammed a fist against the edge of the table, the holographic light distorting under the impact.

"We can sense their hive signals through divine fire. We can feel their will rippling through the field. And yet, no matter how many we burn, their brain refuses to die."

His tone deepened.

"If this continues, this war will turn into an endless stalemate. A nightmare without end."

He wasn't wrong.

As long as the Hive Mind remained undestroyed, the swarm would continue to multiply.

Even a single surviving bug could rebuild a nest in minutes, feeding on surrounding resources to spawn tens of millions more.

Peter had seen it himself, the cycle of extermination and rebirth, the futility of every "victory."

Though the Heavenly Army had purged more than seventy percent of the swarm, the remaining thirty refused to vanish.

He stared toward the distant horizon, where gray clouds twisted like boiling ash and lightning tore through the sky. His jaw tightened, fury and frustration boiling beneath his calm exterior.

"Damn it," he whispered. "That arrogant fool forbade the major legions from maintaining their own research divisions. If I had even one lab under my command, I'd have unraveled the Zerg's secret by now."

"Damn it all. If I still had even a fraction of my former mind…"

"…things would be different."

He fell silent, and for a moment, his gaze softened, not with weakness, but with memory.

The Angels had once been brilliant, warriors, scientists, thinkers. But when they ascended to Heaven Mountain, they paid a price.

They had surrendered their capacity to learn.

Their hearts, once seas of thought and discovery, had been shattered, replaced with eternal obedience.

Peter clenched his fist slowly.

The war around him roared on.

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