After witnessing Aeon perform a Russian-style counterterrorism rescue—rapid, decisive, and unbelievably efficient—to save the inhabitants of several planets…
The Hive Will, which had previously shown complete indifference to the casualties of its own troops, was unexpectedly moved.
It realized that with Aeon's terrifying rate of consumption, it might soon be left with nothing to eat.
This immediately triggered its alarm.
In response, even more Tyranids swarms began surging toward Aeon.
Zooming out from the immediate battlefield, it became clear that the Tyranids currently attacking were only the vanguard.
In far more distant regions, several massive Tyranids armadas were en route—an estimated total of five trillion units!
Since low- and mid-tier Tyranids couldn't inflict any meaningful damage, the Hive Mind decided to rely on sheer numbers to slowly grind Aeon down.
But that wasn't the only plan.
Through Aeon's recently revealed abilities, the Hive Mind also deduced that he possessed some kind of devouring power.
If it relied solely on numbers to wear him down, there was a risk: if Aeon wasn't properly suppressed, he might grow stronger the more he fought—like a ravenous beast endlessly feeding on his prey.
To counter this, the Hive Mind accessed its genetic database and began extracting every toxic, corrosive, and degenerative trait available—Venom, Acid, Decay—and immediately started modifying nearby troops.
Within moments, certain Tyranids began to show noticeable changes, both externally and internally.
Their internal toxins were enhanced by thousands—if not tens of thousands—of times in a shockingly short span of time.
The most venomous among them were so toxic that even their own organs, specially adapted to store acid and poison, were being constantly corroded from the inside.
These creatures couldn't survive for long. They were living munitions—designed to be spent quickly.
Any delay, and they'd dissolve themselves before ever reaching the enemy.
The Hive Mind couldn't care less.
To it, these customized strains were nothing but disposable assets.
As more and more were created, wave after wave of specialized Tyranids were hurled at Aeon.
And wave after wave died.
In some cases, they exploded before Aeon even had time to destroy them—detonating the moment they got close, just to splash their acidic payloads at him.
Death was their only purpose—as living biobombs, this was their fate.
Against such an onslaught, Aeon's once peerless slaughter began to slow.
And it wasn't just the suicide troops. Other specialized strains were also being continuously engineered.
Some even began to pollute the surrounding energy fields—attempting to poison Aeon when he absorbed ambient power.
Different toxins were tested and deployed. Based on the feedback, the Hive Mind identified those that were effective.
Then, it began to combine and enhance them, probing Aeon for vulnerabilities with ever-adapting bioengineering.
This was the Tyranid's primary combat strategy:
Overwhelm the enemy with mass, gather data through attrition, and evolve specifically to exploit the target's weaknesses.
As time passed, Aeon's once sleek and radiant external armor began to accumulate dark green filth and festering boils.
Meanwhile, distant Tyranids fleets started projecting powerful gravitational fields, trying to freeze the surrounding space and cut off Aeon's escape route.
For the first time, Aeon—who had been cutting through enemies like a scythe through grass—found himself in genuine danger.
---
The Crimson Heaven.
Inside one of the palace rooms.
Elsa stared at the massive wall screen displaying the unfolding battle, holding a bag of snacks with a confused expression.
"What is this?" she asked.
"A robot fighting mutant monsters?
Is this some new sci-fi movie?"
She was completely lost.
One moment, she had been relaxing at home on Earth, and the next, she found herself here—in this strange, luxurious chamber.
All because, after two years of silence, Orsaga's voice had suddenly echoed in her mind, casually saying that things on his end were mostly handled and that he'd just established a new dominion. Then he asked if she wanted to come visit.
Elsa never imagined his invitation would be instantaneous.
Still holding her snacks, she looked puzzled but didn't panic.
Orsaga and Petra, seated nearby, exchanged glances. Orsaga casually replied, "It's not a movie—that's a live broadcast."
As he spoke, he reached out and tapped Elsa and Petra on the forehead.
In that instant, a portion of the Crimson Heaven's authority was transferred to them.
From that moment on, they could come and go freely within this dimension. While here, they were completely immune to all harm and even had limited access to the energy reserves of the Crimson Heaven.
In effect, Orsaga had just handed them both VIP accounts.
Sensing the strange new bond she now had with this space, Elsa instantly realized it was Orsaga's doing—but she wasn't particularly surprised.
She turned her attention back to the screen and continued the conversation, curiosity in her voice.
"Live broadcast? That robot looks pretty powerful... but it seems like he's losing…"
It wasn't very obvious, but she could see his outer body was being covered by something odd.
His attack frequency was beginning to drop.
With one arm wrapped lazily around Petra's waist, Orsaga chuckled.
"Yeah, he's probably going to lose. The enemy's just too strong this time. Can't really be helped. But... he shouldn't die."
His tone was casual and unconcerned.
He had no intention of stepping in to help Aeon.
Win or lose—it didn't matter to him.
Getting a firsthand look at the Hive Mind's tactics was good enough.
As he spoke, the figure of Aeon on the screen suddenly burst forth with an overwhelming crimson light.
A colossal blood-red sphere bloomed in the middle of that star system.
There was no sound.
Everything that touched the bloodlight was forcibly annihilated—erased into pure nothingness. Not even an explosion remained.
When the light faded and the aftermath was revealed, half the entire star system—sun included—had vanished.
The massive Tyranids fleet had been nearly wiped out, with only a few hundred thousand survivors clinging to existence. The battlefield was a wasteland.
Then the screen view shifted and zoomed in.
A previously hidden detail was revealed.
Amid the debris, a tiny figure—shrunken down to a fraction of its original size—was darting between the asteroids.
It was Aeon.
Because most of his body had been contaminated, he had chosen to self-destruct the majority of his chassis—delivering a devastating counterattack in the process.
All that remained was his most vital core module.
And trailing behind him…
Was the ragged remains of the Tyranids fleet, still pursuing him.
When you can win, press the attack.
When you can't win, run.
And if you can't even run… prepare to die.
In this, Aeon had thoroughly inherited Orsaga's philosophy.
_____
T/N:
For readers who would like early access, my Patreon is available for just $4 per month. You'll unlock 140+ advance chapters and help support ongoing works.
🔗 patreon.com/user?u=79514336
You may also search Translator-Sama directly on Patreon.
Your support is sincerely appreciated