I Am The Swarm

In the satellite bases orbiting Planet Izumo, all the Brood Queens collectively produced tens of thousands of Space Octopus eggs daily. The maturation process for a Primordial body, under conditions similar to Planet Raze—where only cosmic radiation could be absorbed—took approximately twenty years.

However, in the orbit of a gas giant, with the advantage of massive “power banks,” this timeline was reduced to five to eight years. In orbit, the process became even faster.

This meant that if the conflict dragged on for more than five years, and assuming ideal conditions, the Izumo base clusters alone could theoretically add tens of thousands of Primordial bodies to the Swarm’s ranks every single day.

Of course, this was merely an ideal scenario. With the constant attrition of war, larvae were the most vulnerable and suffered the highest casualty rates. Reality would inevitably fall short of this theoretical maximum.

Even so, the numbers remained staggering.

In contrast, at the Swarm’s rear bases in the Genesis Star System and the Neighboring Star System, where no wars were raging, conditions were closer to the ideal. Although these areas weren’t entirely dedicated to mass production, years of accumulation had resulted in forces that could only be described as astronomical.

By comparison, even if the Rikens poured their entire civilization’s resources into building warships over the same five years, they could produce no more than 3,000 ships—less than the Swarm’s potential daily output five years later.

Since the Swarm occupied Planet Izumo, two years had already passed before the Rikens managed to deploy their electromagnetic railguns.

By the third year, thanks to unending support from the Neighboring Star System, the Swarm’s Primordial bodies in Izumo’s orbit exceeded 20,000. They had firmly entrenched their position. Even a full-scale Riken nuclear strike would be intercepted mid-flight by a dense barrage of electromagnetic projectiles.

With their position secure, the Swarm suddenly disabled all optical cloaking for their units, openly exposing their forces to the Rikens.

On the other side, the ever-vigilant Riken military quickly noticed the Swarm’s unexpected move. Previously, they had only been able to glean vague information through the gravitational-wave radar. Now, with optical equipment alone, they could clearly observe the Swarm’s activities.

Everything about the Swarm was laid bare for the Rikens to see.

“What’s going on? Have they gone mad?”

The Rikens were deeply puzzled. As the saying goes, “Know thy enemy, know thyself, and you will win a hundred battles.”

Both sides usually shrouded their forces in secrecy, hoping to catch their opponent off guard. The Rikens’ initial deployment of missile drones and laser defense arrays had effectively countered the Swarm, taking them by surprise.

But now, the Swarm’s actions were akin to handing over a comprehensive report of their capabilities, leaving the Rikens utterly bewildered.

“Is it a trap?” a Riken officer speculated suspiciously.

“I’m not sure. I can’t imagine why they would do this,” another officer admitted, his mind reeling. If a Riken commander had done something so reckless, they would undoubtedly face a court-martial, with a sentence likely ending in death by firing squad.

The Riken General Staff scrambled to analyze the situation. As more data and parameters were collected, the Rikens gradually began to piece together the Swarm’s intentions.

One senior Riken strategist, removing his glasses, rubbed his weary eyes and temples. He hadn’t slept in three days and nights, his exhaustion evident. At over two hundred years old, he was well into old age. Despite his disciplined lifestyle, his body no longer had the resilience of youth. He knew he had to rest, or he’d collapse before the Swarm ever reached him.

After organizing the documents in front of him, he leaned on the table for support, shakily standing up before laying down on a nearby wooden bedframe. Such natural wooden furnishings were rare and more precious than organic meat—a luxury he had acquired through significant effort.

As a veteran senior strategist, his privileges were considerable. Being allowed to bring such flammable materials aboard a spaceship was a testament to his rank.

He expected to fall asleep instantly after three sleepless days, but instead, he tossed and turned, unable to drift off. With a sigh, he shook his head and sat back up.

The earlier observational data, while seemingly ordinary, concealed a wealth of critical information. The sheer gravity of these hidden implications had been gnawing at the elderly Riken strategist, keeping him wide awake.

“Forget it. I’ll rest after the meeting,” he muttered to himself. Rubbing his face, he meticulously trimmed his days-old beard, his mind racing as he organized the key points he needed to present.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, clad in a pristine military uniform, he tried to muster some vigor. Yet, the deep exhaustion emanating from his body and soul was impossible to mask. Sighing once more, he picked up his military cap, opened the cabin door, and stepped out.

“Gentlemen, I believe I’ve finally figured out why they’re doing this.”

“Finally! That’s the best news I’ve heard in days,” exclaimed Novaul, Fleet Commander of the Third Fleet, with a dramatic flourish.

His words betrayed his own fragile mental state after sleepless nights of speculation. “Berry, just looking at you, I can tell you’re in the same boat. Now, tell us—what have you uncovered so we can all get some rest.”

“Ah…” Berry’s sigh was faint, almost imperceptible, yet it landed like a hammer on the hearts of the assembled officers. The weight of that sigh meant the information he was about to share was not going to be good news.

“Gentlemen, the Swarm is attempting to persuade us to surrender,” Berry said, his voice steady but heavy. As the words left his mouth, they seemed to crash into the room like a boulder.

Of course, Berry wasn’t one of the highest-ranking officers present; his position as a civilian strategist meant he had no authority over ultimate decisions. At his advanced age, he was the oldest in the room. No matter what choices the leadership made, he had little to lose.

“What!? Berry, do you realize what you’re saying?” Novaul froze for a moment before his face darkened. Staring at Berry intently, he asked in a sharp tone.

Beside Novaul, Hamis reached out to calm him down, though his own expression reflected grave confusion. Berry, with his long-standing experience, surely understood the crime of undermining morale before a major battle. For him to make such a statement, he must have seen something undeniable.

“From the data, I’ve drawn a conclusion: our warships, our defense systems, and our weapons are insignificant in the face of their overwhelming numbers. And the Swarm wants us to understand this fact.”

Berry then transmitted a set of summarized materials to everyone in the meeting.

As they reviewed the documents, the expressions of the Rikens grew progressively grim.

“Is this real?” Hamis asked, lifting his head with a bitter smile. He already knew the answer in his heart but still struggled to accept it.

“As you can see,” Berry replied, his tone somber. “They’ve displayed everything openly, deliberately, to make us understand.”

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