I Am The Swarm

The war concluded more smoothly than expected. Without a functioning command system, the Kingdom of Merrican had virtually lost all ability to resist.

Strangely enough, whenever the Kerrigan army occupied a territory, the “incidents” would cease. Toward the end, Merrican cities practically left their gates wide open, welcoming the Kerrigan forces with celebratory processions.

The Kerrigan Kingdom’s army advanced with little resistance, quickly conquering most of Merrican territory. Only some remote regions remained unattended due to the rapid pace of their progress and a lack of personnel to secure them.

Both nations’ sharpest minds speculated about the peculiar turn of events but dared not delve too deeply. All manner of opportunists, schemers, and rebels retreated into the shadows, too terrified to act. Sarah Kerrigan’s reputation soared, cementing her authority over her domain.

Even Queen Kerrigan herself was deeply shaken by the eerie “incidents.”

“So, this is the power of a god?” she wondered. Despite being a collaborator, she had no understanding of how her allies had orchestrated these events, ultimately attributing it to divine intervention.

The display of power served a dual purpose: it crippled the Kingdom of Merrican and subdued the Kingdom of Kerrigan. The demonstration was even more fearsome than what had unfolded outside her study door.

Until a countermeasure could be devised, the partnership was secure. Any lingering doubts or reservations the Queen harbored were dispelled. After all, her collaborators’ demands were modest—there was no reason to jeopardize the alliance over such trifles.

Three months later, following intense preparations, the newly formed Kerrigan Empire was officially established. Sarah Kerrigan ascended as its first emperor, earning the title of Empress Kerrigan I, or Sarah the Great.

Rather than reducing investment in aerospace technology following unification, the Ratfolk Empire doubled down. The former scientific academies of both kingdoms were merged into the Imperial Space Research Institute, consolidating all aerospace-related personnel under one banner. Resources and manpower were allocated generously, with no expense spared, leaving analysts baffled.

The appointment of the institute’s first director only deepened the confusion. A complete unknown parachuted into the position, bypassing all conventional processes.

According to insiders, the new director was a relative of Morgan, the Empress’s late teacher and former head of the academy. Allegedly, the position was secured through personal connections with the Empress herself.

The appointee’s credentials were non-existent, an egregious example of nepotism. Many questioned how the Empress, renowned for her intelligence, could make such a decision.

Yet, with the momentum of unification and unprecedented public approval, no one dared raise the issue before her.

Though the scientific community bristled at the decision, they begrudgingly accepted it, many planning to make life difficult for the outsider. If he stumbled badly enough, he might resign out of shame.

However, when the new director finally appeared, his uncanny resemblance to the late Morgan stirred memories among many. Their hostility softened somewhat—many were students, protégés, or colleagues of the old academy head. They resolved to give him a chance, provided he wasn’t utterly incompetent.

To their surprise, the new director quickly won them over. Despite his youth, he demonstrated seasoned leadership, extensive knowledge, and an uncanny familiarity with his team. Time and again, he intuitively addressed their concerns, earning widespread admiration.

The newly crowned Empress, meanwhile, was basking in her triumph but frequently found time to consult the new director. Rumors began to swirl about an improper relationship between the two.

The gossip eventually reached the Empress’s ears, prompting her enforcer, Chief Guard Tella, to find the worst offenders and mete out punishment over trivial pretexts. Left with broken bones and months of hospital recovery, the chastened gossips dared not whisper another word.

The Empress knew the director’s true identity and had no intention of pursuing any romantic entanglement. Since ascending to the throne, she had lived in constant fear that the enigmatic figure behind Morgan would come to collect on their deal.

Yet, Morgan only claimed the role of director for the space institute and never sought anything more—not even the faith offerings he had initially mentioned.

At first, the Empress was convinced the demands were a smokescreen for a larger scheme. Surely the true intent was to manipulate her through faith, to brainwash her and seize control of the empire from the shadows.

But as time passed, it became evident that the supposed smokescreen was their genuine goal. This only deepened her confusion. Why would a god care so much about space technology?

Could the stories of gods living on the moon be true? Perhaps they had left and couldn’t find their way back?

With no further pressure from her allies, her fear gave way to curiosity. She began visiting Morgan frequently, driven by a need to uncover why his benefactor was so fixated on lunar exploration.

Meanwhile, Luo Wen continued to expand his network of followers. Among his newest recruits were two former merchants.

Thus, a company called “Starlight Enterprises” was soon established, specializing in mineral exploration and development.

Starlight, an unassuming startup, seemed almost divinely blessed. Every exploration site it picked yielded rare minerals and valuable resources. The company expanded at an astonishing rate.

Naturally, such success drew envy, and opportunists sought to undermine it. However, these rivals mysteriously succumbed to the same inexplicable “sleep deaths” that had plagued the Merrican Kingdom. The connection to the royal family’s earlier actions deterred most challengers, and the few who persisted soon met the same fate.

Starlight’s operations continued smoothly, but what puzzled observers was its allocation of profits. All earnings were funneled into building research laboratories.

These labs tackled diverse fields: biology, mechanics, environmental science, and aerospace. The company welcomed talent from all walks of life, funding projects regardless of commercial potential. As long as an idea was sound, Starlight offered unwavering support.

Suddenly, misfit researchers, fringe theorists, and underfunded scientists flocked to its doors.

Rival corporations were baffled. “This isn’t a business—it’s a charity!”

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