Splinter.

Fragments of the soul.

A fragment of the soul of a genetic protoplasm.

Even if you look at the whole galaxy, it is enough to set off looting and war, it is enough to sweep dozens of galaxies into the flames of war, it is enough to put hundreds of generals and governors on the ground, or more people: fleets, hordes of aliens, or the elite veterans of Astarte who have been invincible for hundreds of years, like moths to fire, fall in unknown corners.

It has such a boundless charm and value, because it is part of the original genome, and has the breath of the demigods who walk on the earth: even a trace is enough to eclipse everything in the world.

It is enough to cause trouble, to become a hero, or to forge a legend: it has so much power and nobility that it can be worshiped by any individual or organization.

But now, this priceless treasure is just a delicious fruit curled up in the palm of the Spider Queen.

It's an apple and that's it.

Apple.

That's what Morgan wants.

In her palm, the flawless fruit emitted a silvery false glow, almost transparent, allowing one to clearly see the bubble-like juice and soul wrapped in it, these nutritious intangibles swam in the sea of souls, like the waves of the sun raging wildly, reflecting a mouth-watering beauty.

The fruit was not large, only the size of half a mortal's palm, but it was pregnant with enough power to satisfy and greed the Lord of the Second Legion: after all, it was the easy usurpation of the soul of a powerful primordial body, the last of his humanity, and some of the [useless] memories of his decades of life, that were easily usurped by Morgan, to condense into this wonderful forbidden fruit.

Morgan grabbed the fruit, examined it carefully, and then, without further hesitation, swallowed it in one gulp.

The sharp fangs pierced the formless shell of weakness, and the suction from between the lips and teeth sucked up the juice in the first moment, and tasted it with relish as a necessary pre-dinner etiquette for the next step of gluttony.

The most delicious soul in the universe slowly fell into her stomach with Morgan's greed, and the sweet spring water thus moistened the parched land ravaged by the evil gods, bringing with it enough to give the hungriest greed a temporary satisfaction, and enough to give the most pessimistic heart hope for the future.

Strength.

The power to make people happy.

The power to make people feel joy and joy.

The fragment named Heydrich had completely collapsed the moment he saw his body, and this fragment of memory, which was based on self-deception, had no resistance in the face of the bloody reality, which helped the Spider Empress who was eating.

As Morgan nibbled on this delicious power, the last bit of guilt in her mind vanished, for it was no longer her blood relatives in her mouth, but a pathetic mass of defilement, casually abandoned in the shadows by their owners.

……

Maybe she's also making a fool of herself?

Forget it, who cares.

She doesn't care.

Morgan told herself, and then she felt the wonderful sensation of power in every ounce of her soul.

This made Morgan's eyes narrow, and she fell into a moment of enjoyment and comfort: with her continuous experience of emotions, all kinds of new emotions took root in her heart little by little, so that the originally cold Spider Queen could finally experience a trace of the world's colorfulness, and also made the rugged valley in her heart finally smooth the slope visible to the naked eye.

Whether it's anger, sorrow, or the heartfelt happiness that happens in this moment, Morgan can finally understand what they mean, and she can finally have a vivid memory and cognition of these emotions, instead of treating them as cold data, taking them out when necessary, and then putting them back.

Of course, this is not enough, far from it.

There were too many emotions that she could not comprehend and recognize, and too many emptiness, hunger, and confusion rampant in her heart and chest, and they surrounded the three unprovoked gods, constantly reminding Morgan.

Perhaps she looked very comfortable and chic now, and perhaps her appearance of a fish in water by the side of Johnson or Horus was indeed enviable: but it was only temporary pleasure, only false strength, and her ordinary life was built on the strange balance of those powerful beings who temporarily died down.

Her genetic father was busy with this great and patchwork expedition, with building a 10,000-year-old legacy over the course of a hundred years, and he would have no more time to devote to himself.

Correspondingly, the mighty gods of evil are lurking, silent, waiting for the curtain to be lifted: she can even guess that when the cause of her genetic father is in full swing and it looks like everything is going to be on the right track, it will be the moment when the worst gods will strike.

After all, there is nothing more joyful than shooting down the midday sun to delight these abominable creatures who are so bored in eternity.

The real war will officially start at that time, and it will be a purgatory ten thousand times more terrible than the Great Expedition, the Randan War: at some point in her life, Morgan clearly realized this, she knew that the dream of her genetic father would be challenged and subverted by the most terrible galaxy, and her fate would be truly chosen at that moment.

It would be a cold winter, a war that would sweep across the galaxy and shatter all worlds and friendships.

Morgan foresaw it.

She was terrified, obsessed with it, and felt a contradiction of fear and joy: it was her catastrophe, and her only chance.

It was only when the most terrible beasts were fighting each other that it was possible for a lynx like her to fill their bellies.

But before that, she had to become stronger, to be very powerful.

Becoming enough to save herself in the battle of the behemoths: she knew what a difficult task it was, and she knew that she and her blood relatives, the seemingly invincible Genoplasms, would be the only pawns in the hands of both sides before the terrible behemoths bit each other.

This is the reality brought about by the absolute disparity in strength, and Morgan has finally admitted it in the face of the facts that he has witnessed again and again.

When she saw that she, Johnson, and Vulcan, together and tried everything to occupy even half of the upper hand, Emperor Randan, in front of her genetic father, only took a blow, and then disappeared in a feeble scream.

When she saw that her powerful psionic brother Magnus, one of the top five terrifying figures in the galaxy, was played like an ignorant child in the face of the abominable will that called himself the Changeler, even her own memories were distorted at will, and even her soul was cut off in advance.

When she saw that no one in the world could understand, recognize, or even face the existence wantonly strife, snatched, and fought against each other in her mind, in order to monopolize her will and destiny, and unscrupulously showed her the most terrible and depraved things in the galaxy.

Morgan knew that she had to break through this terrible snare: it was not an extravagance, it was not an ambition, it was an extreme command brought about by biological instinct and fear, which, from the moment it arose, became the first command that she needed to carry out in her life.

She never forgot that.

She had been silently calculating the progress of the Great Expedition, calculating how long that precious only chance was until now.

She's always ...... Get stronger.

She has to get stronger, get stronger.

Beneath the veil of fear, greed, plunder, and disguise, she must become stronger than ever.

Desperate to become stronger, without alarming those terrible beings, she tore apart all pity and weakness with her own hands, looking for a way to make herself stronger.

It doesn't stop for a moment.

She thought so, and slowly swallowed the last bite of the silver apple.

Strength, here.

——————

And when those strange but surging powers involuntarily poured into Morgan's mind, she was shocked before she could tame and bring everything back together.

Not a serious shock.

It was a memory, a memory that existed in the depths of Heydrich's soul: a memory that predates his consciousness, that is, the blonde beast himself may not have known that it possessed it.

In memory, Morgan was attached to Heydrich's body: a very weak and twisted body, as if it had undergone countless transformations and experiments for some arrogant purpose.

This even made Morgan feel a little uncomfortable, but before the Spider Queen could adjust to it, she was covered in a shadow.

It was a man, a silver-white man dyed in black.

He looked at Heydrich, who was still in the training pod, and spoke, his voice a mixture of anger and emotion.

"This is a false dream that mankind will never reach."

He spoke, and Morgan heard the owner of the voice.

It's Horus.

This man, this red-eyed figure that reeked of some kind of death, was none other than the wolf herder: Horus.

…… Wait a minute.

Is he really Horus?

Before Morgan's doubts could be answered, the tall figure in front of him moved.

He only said that, and then, anger consumed reason, causing the Lord of the Shadow Moon Wolf to raise his fist.

Blow, shatter, hurt.

When Heydrich's already fragile body was exposed in front of all this, Morgan was behind him, hearing something.

It was laughter, the most arrogant, crazy laughter.

Morgan recognized them, the four mocking visitors: two of them had already set up camp in her mind.

It was the evil god of the void.

They came, and with a blow of Horus's fury, they roared into the hidden corner, and in a continuous burst of maniacal laughter, the minions of the gods pierced the fragile skin and body of the blonde beast.

Heydrich, whose eyes were closed so tightly that her heart hadn't even grown completely, couldn't help frowning, she seemed to want to struggle, but to no avail.

The gods pounced on him, seized him, spurned his presence, mocked the stupid provocation that his presence represented, quarreled and invulnered each other, negotiated and communicated, and finally made a decision.

The dark blue, withered claws became the embodiment of all: it lunged at the unsuspecting Eleventh Primordial, tearing open his chest and snatching a golden mass from his soul and heart.

That is nobility, that is mercy, that is the most important gift that the emperor has given to each of his children:

Human nature.

Morgan recognized it.

The claw, the spokesperson and weapon of the Lord of All Changes, triumphantly grasped the nobility of the Eleventh Primordial Body, throwing it into the boundless subspace, allowing the raging waves to tear the golden priceless treasure to pieces in the next instant.

Then, laughing, they roared, and disappeared as far as they could go, never to be seen again, leaving nothing but chaos in their wake.

And the feeble moans of the blonde beast.

And in the midst of this groan, an unprecedented storm, accompanied by an unimaginable foolish act and betrayal, swept everything in front of Morgan's eyes.

The next moment, Morgan opened his eyes.

——————

Memories worried her.

The delicacy delighted her.

Strength reassures her.

But that's not enough, far from it.

The blue pupils swept over the rotting corpse at this moment: even the Spider Empress herself could barely tell from the tall figure and burly body that it belonged to the original genogen, and Morgan's gaze casually surveyed over this body, lingering on the deformed and swollen arms and abdomen for an unusually long time.

The corpse's arms were already like a pair of decaying honeycombs, littered with white bones and dense needle cuts, and the gaps between the bones and flesh were unusually flat: apparently not marks of battle or decay, but the result of an autopsy for experimental purposes.

Morgan glanced at it hurriedly, and then withdrew her gaze: she couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness to see her body being treated like this.

And what disturbed her the most was that the body showed no signs of struggle, it just sat on it in the quietest position, as if it was not dead, but resting.

Morgan took one last look, and then completely withdrew her gaze: although she had seen a thousand times more horrific and disgusting things in the memories of the Ancients, it still made her feel uneasy when these things happened to her kind.

She didn't want to stay here long: while there were obviously some secrets here, it wasn't Morgan's concern anymore.

Let those dark secrets be buried in the corners of time, or found by other explorers: anyone could be that explorer, even Morgan himself.

In the dark, the Spider Empress felt that her connection with this crazy blood relative was not completely over, after all......

She took a cursory look at the treasures that she hadn't had time to digest.

Human nature, reason, memory, knowledge......

These are far from the be-all and all-encompassing genetics, both qualitatively and quantitatively.

Her blood relatives are still alive.

Sooner or later, she would meet him.

But not now.

Now, she has more important things to work out.

Whether it was her children, or that Abaddon, they were undoubtedly in trouble, some minor trouble that could be fatal.

She had to go back, after all, she wasn't going to let them leave the stage so early.

——————

And just like that, the Spider Empress left the deepest dark fortress without a trace, devouring what she needed into her soul and not taking anything from it.

In the same way, she was dismissive of everything here, and didn't even bother to look at it a few more times: not even the corpse of the genetic prototype didn't allow Morgan to observe it any longer.

After all, it wasn't her blood relative: Morgan didn't care what her blood relative had become, but in her heart, no matter what Heydrich had become, only the one that contained Heydrich's essence and his special features as a genetic prototype was her [blood relative].

Whether that being was now a new creature, or a wisp of will, or even an indescribable mass of flesh and blood: she would only admit that it was her blood relative, and the rest, whether it was the rotting body or the fragments of the soul she had devoured, were nothing more than what her blood relatives had discarded.

She believed so.

Perhaps this is a kind of self-deception, in order to make her greed a clumsy lie that is suitable for use: as emotions swell more and more in her heart, it seems to bring something bad as well.

At the very least, when Morgan devoured the soul of another genogen this time, she was obviously not as calm and indifferent as she had been when she had plundered Magnus's soul: an emotion bordering on unease had struck her, even shaking her heart and soul.

Is that guilt?

Morgan wasn't sure, but she was in a hurry.

So, Morgan missed something.

Something enough to magnify the fear in her heart a little.

As the figure of the Spider Empress slowly dissipated from the empty hall, she would not see: the carrion, the carrion on the throne, the carrion that was riddled with holes and the stench of white bones and wax: it was not static, it was not part of the peace that death brings.

Next to its skull, beneath its nose, the faintest of air was moving in a certain pattern: the air was so small and meager that even the dismissive Spider Queen did not feel it.

But they do exist, and they do carry out the activities that some kind of creature needs around this seemingly dead body.

The corpse.

It's like.

in breathing.

(End of chapter)