Chapter 846 – Remior’s golden century – Reincarnation (Patreon)

The reincarnated Ruby Empress – now a Minor Spring Empress – had been the first major success of Nephthys’ experiments with the eggs. After being given a new life by her daughter, the original ruler of the hive had essentially become her own granddaughter!

Percy glanced between the two towering wasps. Neither seemed particularly troubled by the arrangement.

Confusing family relationships aside, giving an experienced royal wasp an even stronger body had been the obvious choice. The former Empress naturally hadn’t complained about being reborn as an insect, and had already proven her ability to manage a hive.

After a century of growth, the Minor Spring Empress had returned to White and arguably surpassed her former self, with her second core now at Violet. Technically, her cores were a grade lower than they appeared, since Percy had given her a pair of Cradles this time.

He’d refrained from doing that in her previous life, but the situation was different now. They already knew she could handle the higher grades, her new body conserved stamina more efficiently, and Nephthys could salvage her soul and give her yet another body if she ended up starving herself by accident. Percy could also grant artificial advancements several times faster than before, so he was a lot more willing to invest some of his time to help his allies.

‘So, where are the lucky bugs I’ll be giving new cores to?’ Percy asked both wasps through their connection, knowing that the Minor Spring Empress would be able to hear him just as clearly as Nephthys. The Minor Spring Empress inclined her head, her attention turning outwards and reaching for various creatures scattered throughout the hive.

The most interesting thing about the new breed of wasps and the reincarnated souls was probably how their crowns worked.

Regular bugs started life with a single pair of antennae, but Minor Spring Princesses were born with two pairs. Infusing an existing soul into an egg added another pair. However, Nephthys had no intention of trapping anyone’s soul inside the body of a Breeder, and she couldn’t produce Drones directly, so she would generally only infuse souls into royal eggs. Receiving an acid core added yet another pair of antennae. A reincarnated royal could therefore reach eight – a pair less than Nephthys herself.

Every Minor Spring Wasp was better at receiving and relaying commands than regular Starry Wasps. Their range and authority scaled with both their grade and number of antennae.

A four-pronged Commander that had received its second core could boss a two-pronged Commander around. Royal wasps were always superior to common bugs, but the order among the royals depended on whether they had been infused with an existing soul at birth, received the Moirais’ Decree, or both. There were subtle differences in the intensity of the mental signals even between bugs that had the same number of antennae, and the most intelligent among them could grow even better with practice.

In some ways, that had resolved the problem that had once prevented Starry Queens from producing multiple heirs. Rival Princesses could now establish a pecking order by comparing the strength of their signals, without having to kill one another. Perhaps that was why Nephthys was even capable of producing multiple royal eggs in the first place.

The Minor Spring Empress barely moved as her summons travelled through the hive. From the passages beyond the cavern came the first faint rustle of wings.

Eight-pronged wasps automatically manifested indigo constellations inside the Lone Wanderer’s mindscape – or at least the one they’d studied had. They were essentially natural proxies, controllable from afar without dream or lightning mana. The passive connection between crowns could span at least an entire planet.

Of course, Percy and Nephthys could still project the minds of the remaining stored souls into the bodies of Blue wasps to create temporary proxies, with even better results when they used mutated bugs.

An eight-pronged royal could also control its own hive well enough to perform a weaker version of the March alone. It wouldn’t match the precision Percy and Nephthys had achieved with the three-eyed construct at the end of the war, but it could reproduce the incomplete spell they’d used before fusing.

Percy and Nephthys might one day combine their authority with that of the local rulers to control several swarms at once, though those royals would probably have to reach Clear first. Whether their signals could bridge the distance between planets was another question.

For Nephthys, though, the discovery had meant far more than better control over a swarm. She’d been ecstatic at the prospect of restoring her Amenthei subjects.

Percy glanced up at her. Even after all this time, he still remembered the joy that had washed through their connection when she’d realized what the mutation might mean for her people. He wanted to see that hope rewarded.

Turning her people into wasps wasn’t ideal, since others might be less willing to spend their lives as giant bugs. As much as Percy liked Nephthys, he’d be the first to admit that she was a little odd in how easily she’d accepted her new body, though perhaps, that only spoke to how desperate she’d been at the time.

Not to mention that Starry Wasps were deceptively solitary creatures. Despite the mind-boggling size of each swarm, hives were typically ruled by a single royal bug. Establishing a separate hive for every reincarnated soul would still scatter the Amenthei across a collection of isolated kingdoms.

The reincarnated deity hadn’t been too discouraged.

She had decided to hold onto the stored souls and limit herself to projecting their minds into temporary bodies until she and Percy found a better solution. Some of the dead Amenthei or humans might even volunteer to turn into royal wasps the next time she needed to establish a new hive, but there was no rush to shove anyone into an egg against their will.

Ideally, they wanted to reclaim Amenthes before rebuilding its civilization.

Percy was more than happy to welcome Nephthys’ people to Remior once they figured out how to give them more convenient bodies, but she preferred to give her subjects a home of their own. It would be healthier for the two factions to form an alliance on equal footing than to force them to share a world. It might not be as much of an issue for Percy and Nephthys, who now shared a mindscape and a soul, but asking the two races to coexist might generate unnecessary tension.

Of course, Nephthys also wanted her home back.

It was the planet that had spawned her people, and she had lived there for hundreds of thousands of years. Percy tried to imagine Remior that empty, and understood why she wanted to go back anyway.

For all the destruction that the demonic infestation had unleashed upon Amenthes, the cosmic cancer had at least done everyone the courtesy of wiping itself out. That was why Percy was struggling to find a host to possess, but his fellow aspect’s connection to the planet remained unaffected. They knew where Amenthes was, and it wasn’t like there was anything valuable left for other factions to steal even if somebody else discovered it before Nephthys managed to return.

According to Zoris, they wouldn’t have to worry about the Slumber returning either. Once an infestation destroyed every last potential host, the planet was as good as new.

Percy simply had to get Nephthys to the dead planet, terraform it into something liveable, and help her settle her people. They could work on that problem while also figuring out what to do about the bodies of the Amenthei.

‘I suppose that it’s simpler than freeing Huehue, cleansing Robari, or defeating Catharis,’ he reasoned with a shrug, watching as a swarm of thousands of wasps flew into the cavern. ‘Travelling to and mending an entire planet won’t be easy, but at least we’re not on a timer for this particular project, and there are no enemies to fight.’

The scrape of limbs against the stone slowly swelled into a steady clatter.

Giving new cores to the creatures was a trivial task by comparison. Percy had activated his bloodline so many times that he could have possessed ten thousand bugs in quick succession in his sleep – if he didn’t have the Insomnia trait.

He was only slowed by the wait for a hill of green mushrooms to be dumped over each host so he could complete the activation of the Moirais’ Decree. The magical fungi were pretty much a staple across Remior by now, cultivated in huge quantities in all sorts of places for this very purpose.

A few hours later, he was done, but there was one more thing he wanted to check before leaving.

He headed even deeper, towards the most isolated and well-protected cavern inside the entire structure. The noise of the swarm faded behind him. Before long, the soft echo of his own footsteps was the only sound in the passage.

It was a place that only he, his fellow aspects, and Zoris were supposed to know about – and the latter only because he accompanied Percy at all times. Percy hadn’t even mentioned it to Nesha or his relatives. Even Phoebe might not have learned of its existence – depending on how closely she was watching him. It wasn’t that he distrusted them, or that he expected anyone on Remior to interfere with the project. Still, he saw no reason to divulge such sensitive information, as he felt extremely protective of this secret.

After a century of scouring the universe, the object in that cavern was the only thing Percy had found with the potential to extend his and Micky’s lifespans. The last one of its kind, even, as far as he could tell.

Percy’s heart thrummed as he neared his destination. He’d scanned the entire hive with his Merciful Spring domain before even setting foot on the island, confirming that his treasure was exactly where he’d left it. He checked again as he walked. The answer was the same, but he knew he’d feel safer once he could see it with his own eyes.

He would have preferred to keep the object safely stored within his spatial seal at all times, but it was almost too large to fit, and keeping it there would have made storing and transporting anything else awkward.

Life mana grew thicker around him as he neared the chamber. By the end of the tunnel, he almost felt as though he were swimming through it. After deactivating dozens of sets of protective enchantments one by one, Percy finally entered the isolated chamber.

A towering oblong object rested on the ground, its crystalline body flooding the slightly larger chamber with green light. The object was around thirty-six metres across at its thickest point, and about two-thirds of that at its narrowest. It shone even brighter than the second-generation sapling that Percy had planted a few thousand kilometres higher, making him wonder how Ishkuria had modified the omnipresent glow within her own home without any visible runes.

More importantly, the object’s green light was accompanied by a silver glow in Percy’s Soul Vision – it was far dimmer than the object’s physical brilliance, but it was the brightest Percy had seen in a plant.

The oblong object was a seed.

A seed of the original World Tree, which would have certainly germinated into a first-generation sapling hundreds of thousands of years ago, if not for the constant suppression of its thirteen older siblings.

Walking closer, Percy made a narrow, deep cut across his right palm with his willpower and pressed his bleeding hand against the warm surface of the seed. As he laid his palm flat against the crystal, some of the tension eased out of his shoulders.

He remained there for several minutes, using his domain to hold the wound open as he fed the seed with a copious amount of spiritual blood. A soft smile tugged at his lips as the oblong treasure greedily drank every single droplet, its silver glow intensifying ever so slightly with every passing breath.

As it had done for decades.