Chapter 294: The Annihilation Insects of the Negative Universe
On the racetrack, the signal lights lit up.
A cue to the contestants that they could now charge forward.
A roar of engines echoed as the war chariots surged onto the track.
Hundreds, possibly thousands, of chariots maintained their distance, waiting for the safe period to end.
Only once the vehicles were at full speed and began clashing would the real spectacle—the kind that thrilled the audience—begin, with crashes that could easily end in mangled wrecks and death.
Within three minutes, the exclamation mark projected in the sky turned a glaring red.
That signaled the real show was about to begin.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the heart-pounding moment is here! Let's roar in excitement for our competitors' performance!"
High Celestial shouted to rile up the crowd, and the audience stands erupted in frenzied cheers, all eagerly anticipating the most thrilling multi-car pileups.
"Sister Seaweed, this feels kind of underwhelming."
Allen glanced around at the other chariots, not spotting any signs of collisions or combat.
"I can sense a lot of hostile gazes."
Hela's keen senses picked up the malice-filled stares, as if many in the crowd were wishing them dead.
On Sakaar, many competitions operated beyond legal constraint—contestants could kill with impunity, drawing in both bloodthirsty fanatics and desperate outlaws.
Suddenly, one chariot ahead deployed a mine-like weapon.
It blinked red and clung to any passing vehicle.
"What is this thing?"
Allen retrieved one of the mines, and its detonation alert grew increasingly urgent.
Realizing it was likely explosive, he instantly manifested a giant hand, and like tossing a frisbee, hurled the mine back toward the chariot that deployed it—where it clung tightly, like a magnet.
Boom boom boom...
Explosions erupted in rapid succession. Several chariots were flipped over; a few were outright totaled and went up in flames, their drivers screaming in agony amid the inferno.
Vehicles behind smashed through the wreckage to forge a path forward.
At last, the contestants revealed their fangs, activating weapons mounted on their chariots to eliminate competitors as fast as possible.
"Allen, a vehicle behind us just armed its weapon and is locking on to us."
"Got it."
Hela stayed on lookout, while Allen handled the counter.
A chariot behind them extended a pitch-black cannon, aiming directly at their Ghostflame Chariot.
A rainbow-colored light took the form of a massive fist, which stretched out and jammed itself into the enemy's barrel.
Bang!
With a deafening blast, that chariot disintegrated on the spot.
"Watch out ahead!" Hela cried urgently.
Just as Allen had handled the rear threat, a chain collision erupted in front of them, leaving numerous chariots paralyzed and blocking the path.
"Optimus Prime, transform!"
At Allen's shout, Ghostflame transformed into a heavy-duty truck and smashed through the stalled chariots on the track.
As the race raged on, far away in the Ronan base, the High Evolutionary was watching the livestream—and saw the name Guardians of the Galaxy displayed among the competitors.
A surge of rage erupted in his chest.
Not only were his enemies alive and well, they were openly participating in the tournament.
There was no way the High Evolutionary could sit back and ignore this.
Last time, Ronan had refused to let him lead a swarm of Insectoids against Knowhere, which had already planted seeds of resentment in his heart.
Someone as narrow-minded as he was could never truly submit to another.
"Ronan's not here… Should I…"
A bold idea surged into his mind, impossible to suppress.
While researching the Insectoid King, the High Evolutionary had deliberately left backdoors—contingency plans, or perhaps intentions of seizing control from the very beginning.
The lure of ruling a boundless universe and dominating countless civilizations was enough to tempt anyone.
As war escalated, Ronan was frequently shuttling between fronts and the Kree Empire.
The Empire had dropped all charges against him and even asked him to lead their forces against the Insectoid threat.
That was Ronan's brilliance—he hadn't exposed his identity too early. Instead, he steered the war's course from the shadows.
If the Insectoids lost, he could simply discard them to save himself. It was a double-sided bet—with no possible loss.
The High Evolutionary moved through the heavily guarded base unhindered. As the chief scientist, he had unrestricted access, and the soldiers treated him with utmost respect, never questioning his movements.
Inside the Insectoid King's lab…
The King stood several meters tall, exhibiting some xenomorph traits but predominantly insectoid in appearance.
Its body was riddled with control devices that kept it in a constant state of hibernation.
Commands were issued through technological means to control the Insectoid army.
But waking the King was risky—if it evolved too quickly, it might break free and turn on its handlers.
The High Evolutionary entered the lab, scanned his ID, and sealed the upper hatch shut.
He didn't want anyone interrupting the reprogramming.
At the console, he began rewriting the authority hierarchy.
If he could do this undetected, he would remain in hiding. If not, he would simply command the King to slaughter the entire base and openly seize command of the swarm.
After all, Ronan had already shared his strategic objectives; all he had to do was follow the plan.
"Sir, what are you doing?"
A projection flickered to life—one of the base commanders directly confronted him.
Clearly, Ronan hadn't fully trusted the High Evolutionary and had stationed trusted personnel to monitor the base.
The system had triggered a warning the moment he deviated from protocol.
But the High Evolutionary, resolute in his intent, didn't bother arguing. He casually disabled the communication feed.
At this point, there was no turning back. Even if he backed down now, Ronan wouldn't spare him.
His hands moved faster over the console.
Soon, guards arrived and tried to force open the hatch, only to discover it had been built to the highest security specifications—it could withstand an array of high-energy attacks.
Only Ronan could unlock it.
He held the highest authority and could override all others with ease.
The High Evolutionary's expression grew grim.
Not because of the soldiers outside—but because he suddenly realized he couldn't alter the deepest layers of access.
"Impossible… Don't tell me the Insectoid King was always conscious?"
Cold sweat poured from his brow as he grasped a terrifying truth.
The King had been pretending to be under control since its birth.
"This doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense."
He refused to give up and kept trying to control the King, muttering: "What kind of creature is born with intelligence—fully developed thought?"
The more he considered it, the more horrifying it became.
The primitive features, the killing-machine aura—it was clear the King was bred for war, born with that very purpose.
Initially, the High Evolutionary had assumed it was a bioweapon Ronan secretly developed.
Now, he realized how wrong he'd been.
It was clearly a unique species, with genetic memory passed down through its DNA—fully mature the moment it hatched.
And despite his vast knowledge and status as a walking encyclopedia of biology, he had never seen anything like this Insectoid race.
It was as if it came from another universe entirely.
"Another universe…!?"
In that instant, the High Evolutionary's scalp tingled.
There were still vast swaths of this universe left unexplored—let alone others.
Even the three great galactic empires hadn't dared touch that realm of research. No lesser civilization could hope to reach it.
"A catastrophe—this is a catastrophe!"
A chill swept over him as he realized it—this universe was about to suffer an extinction-level event.
If the Insectoid civilization could cross the dimensional barrier, their technology must vastly exceed that of the three galactic empires.
And when they truly arrived, there'd be no diplomatic overtures.
Only slaughter.
Survival of the fittest—that had always been the natural law.
It was only the rise of the three empires that had imposed order; otherwise, endless war would've continued unchecked.
"High Evolutionary!"
A roar snapped him back to reality.
He turned to see Ronan, fully armored, wielding a massive warhammer.
At that very moment, a wave of deathly pressure engulfed him. The High Evolutionary's expression turned to one of utter despair.
Ronan had returned early.
"Your Majesty, please let me explain! The Insectoid King is a threat—it can't be allowed to reproduce any further!"
A man's dying words are often true.
The High Evolutionary was sincere, but in Ronan's ears, it sounded like nothing more than excuses.
Boom!
Ronan's sudden blow caught him off guard, sending him flying into an alloy wall. He was shocked to find all his weapons had failed—Ronan's hammer clearly suppressed advanced tech.
"Traitor. Face your judgment."
Ronan raised his hammer high, his gaze ice-cold.
A soldier to the core, he had zero tolerance for betrayal.
"Please, don't kill me—I was wrong! I truly was…"
Faced with death, the High Evolutionary's primal survival instinct kicked in, making him beg without dignity.
A natural response—but to Ronan, it only proved his cowardice.
He could tolerate defeated enemies—but not those who clung to life shamefully.
"You're not sorry. You're just afraid of dying."
Crack!
The hammer came down.
Blood splattered.
The High Evolutionary's head was crushed like a melon.
Blood sprayed across Ronan's armor, but he didn't so much as flinch. He didn't bother wiping it away.
After all, he had endured far worse on the battlefield.
"Dispose of the body. Summon the research team to inspect the Insectoid King and this lab—nothing must go wrong."
"At once!"
They were the masterminds behind this war. A single leaked detail could mean death.
But if they triumphed over the three empires, everyone in the Accusers' faction would rise to glory.
Hmm...
Ronan glanced at the sleeping King, uncertain.
"Was I imagining things?"
His enhanced senses had detected the King open its eyes the moment he executed the High Evolutionary.
"Commander, everything's normal. The King's vitals are stable."
Hearing the report, Ronan dismissed his doubts, assuming he was just overthinking.
But in truth, his senses hadn't failed him.
The moment the King opened its eyes, it emitted a wave of special reverse energy—a signature undetectable by any normal equipment of the prime universe unless specifically designed to do so.
---
Negative Dimension
Unlike the prime dimension, which teemed with magic-wielding lifeforms, the environment here was far more complex.
Think of the human universe as a flat plane, containing countless multiverses.
Above it was the dimensional realm, ruled by beings known as Dimensional Lords.
Below it lay the Negative Dimension, which included the anti-universe.
Azeroth Star
Here lived the Annihilation Insectoid civilization, who had evolved into technologically advanced insectoids.
But this was only a micro negative universe—inhabited solely by the Annihilation Insectoids.
Because the universe's space was so limited, the Insectoids never had enough resources to sustain their technological advancement.
They had long been searching for a universe brimming with inexhaustible resources to exploit.
"Your Majesty, the information tower just received a strange set of coordinates."
In a grand palace...
The Insectoid leader, known as the Annihilator, was lounging with his wives, indulging in a shameless, hedonistic lifestyle.
This species bore a striking resemblance to upright, humanoid locusts. Though their bodies were humanlike, their faces were unmistakably insectoid.
The only difference was their towering size and intelligence far surpassing that of humans.
"Where are these coordinates from? Have we confirmed?" the Annihilator asked casually.
Ever since they inadvertently discovered the Human Universe last time, there had been no further progress.
Unfortunately, the spatial rift was located directly above a highly advanced military base.
The unprepared Annihilation Zerg had barely dispatched a vanguard unit before it came under heavy attack, and the spatial rift was instantly bombarded into collapse.
"Your Majesty, the coordinates point to the same universe we accessed last time."
The Zerg scientist sighed. "The problem is that a single coordinate isn't enough to guide us. We need a continuous stream of signal waves as an anchor point. Without that, it's like knowing a place's name but having no idea which direction to go."
"Hahaha…"
Upon hearing the scientist's explanation, the Annihilator burst into loud laughter.
After a long while, he calmed down and said, "It must be my offspring who survived. He's sending us a message to prepare for war."
As the Annihilator's offspring, the child would have inherited memories at the genetic level.
Naturally, that included the previous crushing defeat.
So the intent behind sending the coordinates this time was actually to alert them in advance to prepare for a military campaign, in order to avoid another failed invasion.
The root cause of the last defeat had been insufficient preparation—failure had been inevitable.
However, the Annihilation Zerg's technology made it easy to analyze the enemy's true technological level.
In the end, the technological disparity was only a single tier. In a direct confrontation, there was no reason they should have lost.
"Inform the entire race: we are entering a state of total war."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
The Annihilation Zerg reproduced at an alarming rate, and internal tensions had long been mounting. Once war was initiated, those pressures could be rapidly redirected into military force.
The Annihilator turned to his five wives, his gaze full of trust. "You will each lead one of the five core command fleets."
"Thank you for Your Majesty's favor."
In truth, the Annihilation Zerg fought using technological weapons; the idea of using bred insect soldiers in combat was based on outdated biological warfare methods. When they had deployed insect eggs before, the offspring had been genetically engineered with biochemical technology. It had merely been an experiment—they hadn't held out much hope for it.