Several days had passed since Gu Qing’s departure, yet there was still no word from him.
The frontline of the Ares system was a scene of brutal devastation. Reports were fragmented, the military’s pressure immense, and the atmosphere so tense it felt almost solid.
During these days, Aes trained with near-obsessive intensity.
In the simulation pods, he ran through repeated combat drills: close-quarters fighting, psychic training, remote support, mech piloting—constantly pushing his limits. Even as his body gave out, hands and legs trembling, and psychic energy overloaded, he forced himself to continue.
No one pushed him. No one was there beside him. He couldn’t even articulate what he was afraid of, or why he kept pushing himself. Only whenever he paused did the image of Gu Qing boarding the reconnaissance ship alone flash across his mind.
Gu Qing had always been impossibly strong—calm, clever, decisive. But precisely because of that strength, he always bore every burden alone, as if no one could stand beside him, no one could hold him back.
“I have to get stronger…”
“I have to become a bug who can help him…”
He muttered under his breath, punching repeatedly into the target until blood seeped from his knuckles, joints swelling. Only when he could no longer hold the simulated blade did he collapse silently against the wall.
That night, returning to his room soaked through, he slumped onto the sofa, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes unfocused. Only when the interface detected inactivity did the projection light up.
On the screen waited a familiar figure.
Loes.
Ever since the Mel family incident, the two of them had grown unexpectedly close. During training, Aes would almost every night use this channel to complain to Loes about Gu Qing’s brutal routines or to vent about his own suffering. What started as mere grumbling had become a habit.
Perhaps even… the only habit that allowed him to let his guard down and feel a moment’s relief.
But tonight, he neither laughed nor teased.
“…He still hasn’t come back,” Aes said, voice low, tight at the end. “No contact at all. Do you think… something’s happened to him?”
Loes remained silent, listening as always, his expression calm and gentle.
Aes forced a bitter smile, one that looked worse than tears.
“He’s so strong, so cautious… and yet this time, there’s not a single update.”
His voice trembled, as if adding one more word would break him.
“You know… even though he tortured me in training, gave me no slack, told me I couldn’t rely on being a male bug and had to master my own strength… I thought he was insane back then.”
He lifted his head, a faint, bitter grin on his face.
“But if it weren’t for him, I’d be nothing… I wouldn’t know how to fight, how to strategize, not even how to protect Qingyuan… I really—”
His voice broke off. He pressed his lips tightly, eyes reddening.
“I really don’t want him to die.”
This war was crueler than anything he had faced. He had never felt so powerless.
After a long silence, he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper:
“I… I don’t even have the right to chase after him.”
Head down, fingertips trembling, a single warm droplet fell onto the back of his hand. “He didn’t say anything… but I know. I’m still not strong enough to stand beside him. I don’t even have the right to follow him.” Saying this drained him completely, eyes reddened, expression fragile as if ready to shatter.
Loes watched quietly, gaze softening, voice low and gentle:
“Not every battle requires you to fight. Being here, waiting, worrying, caring—that itself is a rare kind of right.”
He paused, voice soft yet resolute.
“You don’t lack the right—you just haven’t reached that step. Being far from it doesn’t mean you can’t catch up. The truly terrifying thing is knowing you don’t want to give up… yet choosing to surrender.”
He relaxed slightly, corners of his mouth lifting.
“And you haven’t. You’ve been training, pushing yourself—this shows you never intended to give up.”
Aes froze, eyes reddened further, biting his lip subconsciously.
Loes lowered his gaze, his words flowing like calm water into Aes’s mind:
“And… Gu Qing isn’t the type of bug who loses easily.
You know he’s meticulous—able to catch you slacking even once. If he truly lost, you wouldn’t believe it either.”
Aes muttered lowly, “…That bastard.”
Loes smiled faintly. “So, he said he would come back. That means he will. He won’t let you cry and scold him—it’s too embarrassing for him.”
Aes’s nose stung, but he said nothing further, pressing his lips tight. —He will come back. He will, without fail.
Elsewhere, the air in the conference room was heavy.
Blue Dae’s self-requested mission to the Ares system was no longer a secret.
“Did he… really go alone? That’s reckless… does he even know how dangerous it is there?” Vely’s voice trembled, eyes filled with anxiety.
Fili frowned, low and steady: “He knows. And he went anyway.”
“Damn it… and all we can do is wait for news…”
Il slammed his fist on the table, eyes burning with restless tension.
Milton sat at the head of the table, silent the entire time. His face betrayed no emotion, but his nails dug deep into his palms, leaving pale crescent marks.
He knew why Gu Qing chose to go first, and that the bug would never delegate danger to others.
—But he also knew he could no longer remain on the sidelines.
He inhaled deeply, finally making a decision. He activated the communications interface.
The screen lit up, projecting the image of Marshal Ackland Hubert, expression serious, voice restraining anxiety:
“The latest intelligence from Ares is not optimistic. The hyperspace communications station has fallen, and we are completely cut off from the front. Casualty numbers… are still unknown.”
He paused, voice sinking: “The nobles are starting to waver, with some suggesting abandoning support. Even the Insect Emperor is observing.”
Milton’s expression was calm, yet his voice carried unshakable resolve:
“If we choose to turn a blind eye in this calamity, the next victims will be ourselves.”
His gaze darkened.
“…Moreover, I cannot allow Blue Dae to face this alone.”
“As a member of the military, I request to go to Ares, to support the front and stabilize the situation.”
He stood, uniform crisp, voice ringing with authority:
“This is not just a matter of strategy—it is responsibility.”
Though outwardly composed, his heart raced. He wanted to stand beside Gu Qing, to see him safe with his own eyes.
He feared Gu Qing taking on the battle alone.
He feared… that bug might never come back.
After a few seconds of silence, the Marshal slowly nodded.
“Milton Collins… you are correct. For years, the military maintained a fragile balance between decadent noble bloodlines and leaders like you, civilians who built the defense line with blood and life.”
“Now, the situation has spun out of control. Without consolidating our forces, we risk losing not just Ares… but the future of the entire insect race.”
His gaze hardened, voice like iron:
“It’s time to silence those nobles.”
“I officially appoint you as Supreme Commander of the Ares Star System War, coordinating all factions and reclaiming control of the battlefield.”
“In this war, you will lead the insect race to victory.”
Milton bowed deeply: “Yes, Marshal.”
When the transmission ended, the room fell silent.
Then—
“Whoa—!” Il practically jumped up. “We finally get to join the battle! I knew the General could convince the military!”
Fili immediately turned, opening the military interface: “I’ll notify all units to prepare for combat!”
Vely’s lips curled, eyes shining with excitement: “Great… we can finally go find Blue Dae too.”
At that moment, the atmosphere shifted from oppressive to electric. They had once been powerless to act. Now they could step onto the battlefield themselves—not just for the war, but to bring back the bug who always bore it all alone.
Meanwhile, far away in the ruined Ares frontline—
Three mechs raced full speed through the firestorm toward the communications station. Along the way, monstrous creatures emerged from the chaos, ambushing them at every turn.
These evolved magical-energy derivatives were fast and stealthy, hiding among ruined structures and abandoned energy sites to block the rescue path.
The closer they approached the communications station, the denser the ambushes became.
Just before arrival, Navien’s expression changed sharply. His psychic energy swept forward: “Someone’s alive ahead!”
Gu Qing immediately turned, activating the mech’s vision module. Not far off, a partially collapsed shelter held a handful of soldiers in torn uniforms and a group of civilians huddled inside.
Outside the hatch, a dozen small magical-energy monsters prowled, red eyes glinting, waiting to strike the exhausted humans.
A bloodied Orc soldier stood firm at the door, energy rifle clutched tight. Behind him, a young Merfolk officer leaned against him, eyes resolute, yet clearly at the limit.
“Navien, Rein—cover the rear. I’ll lead the way,” Gu Qing ordered.
Before they could respond, his psychic energy surged into the mech’s core. The mech accelerated sharply, taking the lead.
Little Tian Dao, floating in his mindscape, squealed in excitement: “Wow! Using the mech to augment the sword formation—saving psychic energy, right?! So smart! Strong and efficient, amazing!”
It whirled around, muttering: “No wonder… even in cultivation, few sword cultivators could do this!”
A silver-white sword array appeared, swords hovering in precise synchronization with the mech’s energy circuitry.
The sword intent and energy resonated together, the air crackling like an impending thunderstorm.
A burst of silver light erupted.
Thin sword beams shot forward like chains, forming a lethal web in midair, locking every magical-energy monster in place.
In the next instant, all swords struck simultaneously, like shattered stars exploding.
The air quaked, the ground cracked, and the monsters were obliterated, gone before even a scream could escape.
Inside the shelter, the Orc soldier’s eyes widened, mouth agape, witnessing the mech emerge from the silver light like a descending war god.
Gu Qing said nothing. Piloting steadily, he landed and rushed forward, opening the hatch to personally pull each survivor out.
“Those who can walk, stand immediately. Those who can’t, I’ll carry—make it to the communications station.”
“I… we… can!”
The young Merfolk stammered, eyes wide with shock and unspoken gratitude.
Navien and Rein flanked them, covering the rear with full firepower, escorting civilians and wounded toward the station.
Rein cursed through gritted teeth: “Damn! This guy’s insane… a war god among madmen!”
Navien’s gaze stayed fixed ahead, voice low: “This level of combat power… no ordinary unit could do this. Who… exactly is he?”
Gu Qing’s cold eyes fixed on the tower overrun by monsters. His voice cut like a blade:
“This communications station must be reclaimed. Once the signal is restored—”
“—let all bugs and races know—the Allied forces have not yet lost.”