I Am The Swarm

The three destroyed aircraft were drones. The Riken pilot let out a cold breath, realizing that if the tentacle had been just a little longer, his craft would have also turned into a fireball.

A standard formation included ten aircraft. He quickly directed the remaining fighter jets to lock onto the target and prepare for an attack.

The target was a medium-sized Space Octopus, over 80 meters in length with tentacles extending up to 50 meters—long enough to take out three aircraft in one strike.

Upon being locked on, the Space Octopus didn’t panic. Instead, it flexed its tentacles and climbed swiftly along the rocky walls, its movements agile and gelatinous, like rolling jelly.

Most of the fighter jets’ attacks missed, with only a few landing on its body. However, the energy weapons mounted on the jets were too small in caliber to deal significant damage to the 80-meter Space Octopus.

To disable this creature, the jets would need to attack continuously for an extended period. But time was a luxury they didn’t have. As the jets locked onto the Space Octopus and focused their fire, three other Mature bodies suddenly leapt out from the cliff walls ahead.

These three Mature bodies were smaller, only about 20 meters in length, having just transitioned from Larval body to Mature body status. They weren’t yet equipped with electromagnetic railguns, which made their smaller frames even more nimble.

The sudden ambush left the jets no room to evade. The three Mature bodies pounced, each taking down a jet and hurling them toward nearby allied aircraft.

Once again, the Riken pilot was fortunate not to be targeted. He quickly pulled his craft upward, prioritizing his own survival over his drone escorts.

Meanwhile, the 80-meter Space Octopus that had initially been fleeing turned back. With its 50-meter-long tentacle flashing with electrical sparks, it swung from above with full force.

The pilot’s ascending jet was struck directly. Its superior build and sturdier frame spared it from immediate destruction, but the tremendous impact warped its outer shell and sent it hurtling toward the ground at an even faster speed.

“Boom!” The jet crashed into the ground and suffered catastrophic damage, ultimately exploding into a fireball.

The remaining three drones fared no better. Two were destroyed in midair collisions with allied jets under the control of the Mature bodies. The last drone, attempting to ascend, was swatted out of the sky by the 80-meter Space Octopus’s tentacle, exploding on impact.

With their prey eliminated, the team of Mature bodies disappeared once more into the mountainous terrain, waiting for their next victims.

Scenes like this played out across the rugged landscape. The once nearly unscathed Riken squadrons saw their losses mount sharply. By the time the commanders realized the gravity of the situation, over 20,000 fighter jets had been lost.

In contrast, the Swarm’s losses among the Mature bodies were negligible.

The remaining Riken aircraft were ordered to ascend to higher altitudes. However, they didn’t retreat entirely but instead encircled the entire mountainous area, determined to prevent the Space Octopuses from escaping.

On the main battlefield, the Swarm forces had completely lost their ability to counterattack. Their electromagnetic railguns had all fallen silent, leaving them to endure wave after wave of bombardment.

Yet, the purple-gray patches proved far more resilient than the Riken could have imagined. No matter how they attacked, the patches continued to repair and grow.

“Damn it! What is this thing?”

“Conventional firepower is useless!”

“We need another plan.”

“Perhaps that could work.”

“You mean…?”

Minutes later, several gunboats departed from the Riken warships, heading toward the battlefield below.

From an altitude of 10,000 meters, cylindrical metal canisters—each two meters tall and 1.2 meters in diameter—were dropped one by one. A total of over a hundred canisters rained down in succession.

The metal canisters plummeted quickly, and just before reaching the purple-gray patches, they detonated with a deafening roar less than a hundred meters above the ground.

These were the Riken’s latest experimental weapons. Upon detonation, even in the vacuum of space, they burned for more than 30 seconds, thanks to advanced oxidizers contained within.

During this brief time, the canisters could raise the temperature of the targeted area to over ten thousand degrees Celsius, inflicting devastating thermal damage. The oxidizer’s byproducts also created a potent chemical toxin with effects comparable to intense radiation. These toxins were highly adhesive and non-biodegradable.

On a life-bearing planet, such a weapon would render the affected area uninhabitable for centuries.

Though the weapon’s theoretical concept had long existed, the Riken had strictly prohibited its development until the Expeditionary Fleet’s defeat. Faced with the existential threat of alien species, such forbidden weapons were revived and eventually deployed.

The interception fleet carried a small number of these experimental weapons to test their effectiveness in combat.

The performance of the burning barrels exceeded expectations. Over a hundred of them detonated in succession, igniting what seemed like a hundred miniature suns. The bright flames flickered briefly before extinguishing, but the scars they left were indelible.

The purple-gray patches turned to black-brown sludge, oozing a tar-like substance. The toxins effectively stifled the growth of the Fungal Carpet.

“Look! The patches are being suppressed!”

“It seems to be working.”

“Too bad these are experimental. We don’t have many.”

“Use them all! Destroy as much as we can. We’ll figure out something for the rest.”

Encouraged by the results, hundreds more gunboats launched from the warships. In moments, even more miniature suns lit up the battlefield.

Though these were only experimental weapons and each warship carried a limited stock, there were over 2,000 warships on-site. The cumulative number of burning barrels became significant.

On a life-bearing planet, such concentrated detonations could lead to the extinction of species with delicate environmental needs. However, Planet Raze, located in the outermost reaches of the star system, was barren and uninhabited, allowing the Riken to unleash their weapons without hesitation.

Thousands upon thousands of burning barrels detonated, severely slowing the Fungal Carpet’s repair and growth. However, it was only a delay.

A few hours later, as the Riken focused their bombardments on regions not yet touched by the barrels, the areas affected by the toxins began to recover.

The Fungal Carpet was the culmination of Luo Wen’s mastery, a distilled essence of every genetic fragment he had collected. Its rich genetic features allowed it to adapt to various crises and challenges, consistently demonstrating exceptional resilience.

The extreme temperatures produced by the burning barrels—over ten thousand degrees Celsius—were hardly a threat to the Fungal Carpet. After all, Atomic Furnaces, integral components of the carpet, could withstand temperatures exceeding millions of degrees during fusion reactions.

The scorching heat from the barrels was easily mitigated by a slight mutation in the Fungal Carpet’s surface cells.

What truly inhibited its growth were the chemical toxins left behind by the barrels. To the Fungal Carpet, these toxins were akin to “feces”—repulsive and difficult to digest. This was the primary reason it appeared “hesitant” to advance.

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