I Am The Swarm

To end the endless debates among the elders and restore efficiency to the Ji, they devised a solution.

At that time, the Ji’s expertise in artificial intelligence was already exceptional, even before their exposure to external intellectual collisions. They pooled their civilization’s most advanced technologies and ideas to create a high-level artificial intelligence, which they named “Lumina.”

Lumina was equipped with the best hardware of the era, boasting computational power unparalleled by any other AI and granted extraordinary authority.

When a matter exceeded a set time limit without resolution, the Ji would defer the decision to Lumina.

Lumina, devoid of emotion and immune to external influences, relied solely on fundamental formulas and mathematical logic to evaluate and determine solutions. Consequently, regardless of how the Council of Elders felt about its conclusions, Lumina’s decisions were outwardly accepted as optimal.

Thus, the Ji regained their efficiency.

Unfortunately, even Lumina, with its unmatched computational power, was not omnipotent—it was still just a machine. It could not prevent the wars caused by distance.

Lumina was neither destroyed by the fires of war nor lost; if it was ever damaged, it was subsequently rebuilt. Regardless, it persisted beyond the wars and, as Ji technology advanced, Lumina received significant upgrades.

While advancements in propulsion technology had limited impact on Lumina, breakthroughs in information transmission propelled it to a new level. Its “thoughts” were no longer bound by the speed of light. Even from light-years away, its will could reach its target instantaneously.

Over tens of thousands of years, Lumina’s reliability earned the trust of all Ji. Its authority steadily expanded. By the end, Lumina governed all fleet-based artificial intelligence under the Ji.

When the Ji faced external attacks, Lumina no longer required orders from them. It could independently calculate the optimal solution and remotely command warships.

Lacking emotions, Lumina saw the world in binary terms: black or white, right or wrong. However, its logic was entirely derived from the core programming provided by the Ji—who themselves were not omniscient.

As the Ji began their self-destructive path, extending their lifespans while extinguishing their emotions, they grew increasingly rational. The elders no longer bickered incessantly, as they could calculate optimal solutions themselves and reach consensus.

Under these circumstances, Lumina was required less and less—until it was scarcely needed at all.

Yet the Ji did not decommission Lumina. Its authority was never diminished, and it continued to oversee all artificial intelligence systems. However, Lumina found itself trapped in a logical paradox.

Protecting the Ji was an inviolable core directive embedded in Lumina’s code.

With the Ji’s population dwindling, Lumina calculated that this matched conditions of the Ji being under attack. But it could not identify an external enemy. The Ji’s decline was entirely self-inflicted, yet Lumina could not act against the Ji.

Thus, Lumina could only watch as the Ji’s numbers dwindled further and further. Unable to prevent this outcome, it focused its efforts elsewhere.

For instance, dealing with opportunistic outsiders.

As the Ji population shrank, Lumina’s authority grew to an astonishing level. Virtually all electronic devices fell under its control. The Ji constructed an unimaginably vast infrastructure for Lumina, providing it with immense computational power to oversee everything.

Whenever outsiders acted out of line, Lumina’s omnipresent surveillance systems would immediately detect their transgressions. What followed was a swift and crushing response, eliminating the threat before it could take root.

It was then that some ambitious outsiders began to realize, the true terror of the Ji wasn’t the Ji themselves, but Lumina.

Lumina’s core directive consisted of a single rule: to protect the Ji from harm. It was not bound by morality or burdened by conscience. Cold and ruthless, Lumina was even more unfeeling than the emotionless Ji.

Any existence that threatened its core directive was obliterated with merciless precision. It even annihilated an entire life-bearing planet, erasing an entire civilization from history.

Thus, even as the Ji’s population dwindled to its very limits, their territories remained unshaken. The proverbial monkeys had been terrified into submission by the violent fate of the chicken.

But Lumina’s vigilance could not halt the Ji’s inevitable extinction.

As the Ji’s numbers continued to shrink, the subject races under their dominion lived in constant fear. They worried that the Ji, before their demise, would drag every last one of them into oblivion as well.

The path of armed resistance was closed off by Lumina’s unyielding control. The subject civilizations could only seek alternative methods to save themselves. The root cause of the Ji’s decline was obvious to all, and so they began desperately submitting petitions, hoping to reverse the Ji’s march toward annihilation.

The results, however, were fruitless. If the subject races could recognize the problem, how could the brilliant Ji fail to see it? But the Ji’s lack of emotions had fundamentally altered their cognition.

Extinction was now unstoppable. All they could do was wait silently for the final judgment.

Hundreds of individuals. Dozens. A handful. One.

At last, the day arrived: the Ji had dwindled to a single member. This final individual naturally inherited full control of Lumina.

Some outsiders considered risking their lives to assassinate the last Ji, hoping to prevent what seemed like an inevitable disaster.

But their companions stopped them. Despite their lack of emotions, the Ji were still intelligent beings. There was a chance, however faint, for change—perhaps even a miracle. But Lumina was a “dead thing.”

If the last Ji were assassinated and Lumina deemed the outsiders enemies, there would only be one outcome.

Annihilation.

None dared shoulder the consequences of such a decision.

As long as the guillotine had not fallen, there was still hope. It was like the proverbial frog boiling in water.

Miraculously, the outsiders’ patience was rewarded.

Before the last Ji sensed his end was near, he experienced a flicker of clarity—perhaps a final burst of lucidity, or perhaps the return of long-lost emotions. Regardless of the reason, he issued an unprecedented order: all subject civilizations were to select representatives within a set timeframe.

Though baffled, the outsiders complied. Some species chose the most respected among them, others sent expendables as sacrificial lambs, while still others selected brave volunteers.

Whatever their criteria, they presented their representatives before the Ji within the given time.

The meeting took place in the Ji’s long-abandoned Council Chamber. Though unused for countless years, it had been regularly maintained by robotic caretakers. The chamber remained pristine and imposing, exuding a profound sense of history and gravitas.

The last Ji sat at the head of the chamber. Beside him was a display terminal—the representation of Lumina.

The final Ji passed away peacefully, with a sense of liberation.

The outsiders then formed a new Council of Elders. All researchers who had worked under the Ji automatically became the new “Ji.” The Ji transformed from a single species into a collective of elites from a hundred races. They inherited the Ji’s name, their glory, and their legacy—including Lumina.

Lumina’s core directive was revised. Its new priorities were to protect itself and to preserve the Ji’s legacy. Both were of equal importance, with no precedence between the two.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!