The hivemind is conquering for me? Chapter 749: Countering The Hive?

Through a small crack in the tent, Nerissa observed Apollo coiled and wrapped up. Considering her suspicion that he might be reincarnated, his use once more of that nickname tied directly to Albion struck her... A detail known only to two gods apart from the Nymphs...

In this raging warzone, she refused to let herself get agitated right now. Her thoughts must stay steady. Peak condition for both mind and body was crucial. She chose to brush it off for the time being, attributing it merely to chance. Classic Apollo move.

She continued watching a bit longer, her fingers starting to itch from all the excitement. At that instant, he lay utterly vulnerable. Purely innocent. The temptation to playfully tap his nose for stirring up all these conflicting ideas grew tougher to ignore.

Yet he required his rest, and she figured it was wise for her to catch some too, even though sleep was more of a choice for her than for mortals. Sharing Apollo's home and his habits had made her adopt the practice.

Still, for a brief instant, her eyes stayed fixed on that gap. A long-forgotten hope nearly escaped as her hands clasped instinctively—a gesture untouched for millennia. The realization jolted her deeply, prompting a quick retreat.

Just speculation for now. Nothing proven. She reassured herself firmly.

Merely speculation...

...

Within my Mindspace, I opted to wrap my being twice over. Onyx had shifted to her stalker form, one she'd neglected lately more than I'd prefer, cradling me snugly—and honestly, it felt incredible. But as we rested there, a question popped into my head.

"Hey, babe?"

"Yes, my universe?"

"What was up with drinking the heart blood? I know you typically devour your kills, but that struck me as unusual since you carried on afterward." I asked, and Onyx gave me a swift hug, her resonant stalker voice laced with amusement at my curiosity.

"You instructed me to gather biomass samples for your splicing, my universe. That's precisely what I'm doing. Devouring prey openly before the humans would raise alarms, right? But posing as the 'mad' one who savors heart blood passes as an eccentricity. Moreover, I intended to finish off the corpses after your departure, yet the thrill of pursuing the laggards kept me too engaged, and upon returning to the larger ones, decomposition had advanced far. Bigger bodies rot quicker than the small ones."

I agreed with Onyx's explanation by nodding; she made perfect sense. Folks might stare, but I'd bet some soldiers have committed graver acts... Still, mentions of Drakoshi and biomass sparked another query.

"So, how did that blood stack up against the lesser Drakoshi?"

Even in her calmer stalker state, I sensed Onyx's wince before her response. "Still viable biomass, yet without encountering and slaying another warlord, the anomaly of that monster Grimshank remains a mystery... Filthy beast."

"What do you make of the biomass we've gathered thus far?" I probed further.

"Stable." Her instant reply came. "Extremely stable. And from these new samples—unlike Yacob's batch—I've uncovered a key insight."

...

...

...

"Oh, were you holding out for my question? I figured you'd just spill it—"

"-I've pinpointed additional gene sequences and discovered something truly promising. I'm confident the Drakoshi weren't always this appearance or a pure clone race... One certainty: their gray skin dominates as a genetic marker, so we'd need to devise a way to excise it for you if incorporating their DNA appeals. Or keep it if gray suits you."

"Hehe, given I'm still mingling with my own kind, gray skin would draw stares. Better to test purging it, should I utilize their material. Thoughts on the planet overall? Or at least what we've encountered?"

Onyx's grip on me intensified with her joy. "Overflowing with Psionic biomass. I sense it in the soil, the crimson trees and flora. Yet fauna is scarce. No lifeforms registered besides humans and Drakoshi throughout."

Struggling a touch, I lifted my shoulders in a shrug and answered. "Maybe the war's fault? They might lurk elsewhere? Say, zones with steadier gravity?"

"Possible. But staying here long-term, we'll uncover the truth—Oh, inspiration strikes!"

"Onyx?" I queried as she halted abruptly.

Soon after, she tilted her head toward me and said, "A notion not my own, but the hive's directive. Trigger your eye imprint five rapid times. Jewel will instinctively recognize your location as a prime Psionic Biomass world...

Following her advice, I complied. No harm in signaling her.

...

Jewel gazed across the cosmic void toward her mate. Sensing his distant stare. A faint shiver ran through her and her appendages. She'd yearned for him intensely since he curbed his far vision again after her prior escape attempt. Not her doing—his perfection just compelled her to reach out once more! His flawlessness inflicted real torment!

Then his gaze pulsed five times, bewildering her with an intruding thought. Her instincts decoded it as a marker for a Psionic-rich world?

Jewel shifted her primary consciousness into the nearest Hive ship brain to Apollo, positioned in the galactic south of his home galaxy. Regret washed over her instantly. Vast star systems separated her from his current planet. Branches in this sector would let her rush to him, but none existed. Not without crippling casualties.

Nevertheless... She directed her complete focus to the planet under this vessel's watch. These clones, the Drakoshi. Casualties mounted as usual, yet she consumed them effortlessly. Zero defense against her Psionic agitators—pop, pop, elite warriors' heads burst, routing the frailer troops in their rigid minds.

With her sharpened attention on this space region, no longer on autopilot, she chomped through hundreds in a fresh reinforcement wave on a burrowed ship, then thousands more, when an oddity emerged.

Their biomass soured? Repulsive. Worthless. Barely any substance. Perverted living matter. Even machines offered more biomass.

Abandoning that vessel, she unleashed wing rippers to shred it externally—their shields foolishly dropped—and saw herself and prey ejected into the void.

A handful of systems away, she encountered another such clone with identical traits. Repeat event. One reinforcement craft landed troops on her target planet, all tasting foul. Weirder still, they resisted her agitators. Seizing one, she channeled her will at the near-thirty-foot giant, detonating it into bloody vapor.

Thus, not Psionic-immune. Further tests revealed an optimal agitator power ratio for effortless kills.

In prolonged hunts per system, those ships multiplied, usually solo or rarely paired. Jewel pondered if they countered her biomass hunger? Yet even a full fleet of them wouldn't faze her. Planets whole were her current feast, beyond mere flesh. Building her prime a fresh form demanded colossal energy—even stars, a laborious chore she shunned typically.

She deemed the prey desperate, scheming counters. Prey instinct. Across eons, scant spacefarers surrendered worlds meekly to the hive.

Jewel redirected her gaze to Apollo's imprint origin and, despite her current form lacking lips, she sulked visibly.

She craved another hunt-play with her mate soon. Last round had been pure bliss.