While the angel Adeline was still lost in the dream she had just experienced,

Cillian was conducting a series of experiments. Surrounded by demons and strange organic equipment, he used his understanding of the brain worm's structure to design unique trials aimed directly at the Void Swarm.

He wanted to verify one of his boldest hypotheses, that the hive will controlling the Void Swarm was hidden not in any central mind, but within the swarm's very genes.

The cunning organism had already achieved a form of immortality by embedding itself into the Zerg's genetic sequence.

A loud shriek echoed through the swampy chamber.

"Squeak!"

Then came a violent explosion.

A captured Void Zerg, bound and restrained, was blown to pieces in the thick, black, poisonous swamp that Mirethane had created. Before it exploded, the creature had only touched the toxin for less than a second. In that brief instant, a Stage Four Voidling had been completely annihilated. The reaction was instantaneous.

Cillian watched the result with calm satisfaction. The poisonous swamp created by Mirethane's divine authority was working as intended. He turned slightly, noting down the data that floated in glowing runes beside him.

"Continue. Bring in the next Zergling."

Moments later, another creature was dragged in. This one was a standard Void combat organism, a beetle-shaped Zerg with strength exceeding that of a Stage Seven warrior. Though not the most powerful type, in many worlds it would already be considered elite.

Once chained into position, Cillian nodded toward Mirethane. The towering devil raised his hand, releasing a torrent of dark swamp that surged forward and swallowed the Voidling whole.

"Squeak!" The Voidling screamed. Within seconds, it exploded as well. This time, it survived slightly longer, less than five seconds.

Cillian watched, expression unchanged, and calmly recorded the results.

Around him, countless data streams flickered and multiplied. They displayed the precise survival durations of different Zerg types when exposed to Mirethane's poison. The shortest lasted milliseconds; the longest lasted only ten seconds. When the records were complete, Cillian saved the data and gave a new command.

"Remove all the remaining shackles from the Zerg."

The demons obeyed and the Chains fell away as storm of motion filled the lab.

Countless void Zerg of varying forms, some resembling armored beetles, others hideous hybrids, burst free from their cages and rushed straight toward Mirethane.

The demon responded casually, spreading a sea of toxic swamp across the entire area.

The reaction was cataclysmic. One by one, the Voidlings exploded. The laboratory struck with the sound of countless bodies bursting apart. The air crackled and popped like beans frying in oil, while viscous green blood rained down across the blackened ground. And through it all, Cillian watched in silence, but behind his eyes, a single realization began to surface.

He had discovered something terrifying.

The Zerg's adaptability was not natural, it was unnatural, as though appearing out of thin air.

He observed that these Voidlings, even as they died, were somehow transferring resistance to those that followed.

The newly tested creatures lived a fraction longer than the ones before them, even though they had never encountered the poison. It was a change that violated all logic.

Their genes were rewriting themselves in real time, learning through the death of others.

Cillian stared, somewhat terrified, unable to ignore what he was seeing. By every known law of biology, adaptation should come from genetic inheritance, offspring inheriting resistance through generations.

Yet here, the mere death of their kin seemed to grant immediate resistance to the living. It was as if the Zerg's genes themselves were alive.

At that moment, the brain worm, standing behind Cillian, spoke through its grotesque mouthparts, mimicking the language of the Abyss.

"Great Lord of the Abyss, I did not lie. Your guess has been proven correct. The core of the Zerg truly lies in their genetic sequence. But this gene sequence itself is alive, it has its own consciousness."

Its compound eyes flickered as it continued.

"Your earlier suspicion that the Hive Will exists within the genetic structure of every Zerg, now you have confirmed it."

Cillian took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Yes. Still…This… surpasses my understanding." His tone softened slightly. "It seems the knowledge I once held has become a shackle to my perception. I was far too arrogant."

The brain worm, trying to imitate the "flattery techniques" Damon had once taught it, awkwardly bowed.

"No, no, my lord, you are the greatest being I have ever known. Your wisdom surpasses that of any higher being I have encountered."

Cillian raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How many higher beings have you met?"

The brain worm hesitated. "Only one. And that's you."

Standing nearby, Damon sighed under his breath. The Zerg might evolve endlessly, but in the art of flattery, they were hopeless.

Cillian chuckled lightly and waved a hand. "Forget it." His amusement faded as he turned back toward the data floating before him.

The truth was staring at him now, The Void Swarm was nearly impossible to eradicate. Their adaptability made them the ultimate survivors. The heavenly army was fighting a war they couldn't win, and then had trapped them inside as well.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze cold and steady. "Now that we've confirmed this, there are two things we must do next."

His tone hardened. "First, we'll create chaos within the Heavenly Army and weaken their strength as much as possible. Second, I will make one final attempt before retreating."

His fingers closed around a glowing sphere that pulsed like a living heart. "An attempt to weaponize the low-dimensional idealistic plane. Only then will I have the means to face that angel head-on."

Cillian's expression darkened as he lifted the sphere, a Unique Dimension, its inner light reflecting across his pale eyes. From afar, the horns of Paradise's assault could still be heard echoing through the heavens.

"The time has come," he murmured. "Let the angels above tremble."

⸻———x——————

"Has this guy gone mad?"

On the far side of the vast battlefield, a mid-level god, one who had also been swept into the new multiverse by the Zerg, stared into the distance. His gaze fixed upon the world of the Endless Abyss, Suspicion filled his voice as he muttered to himself.

"Has he really become so foolish that he's willing to serve his own executioner? That idiot… does he still not understand that the damned angel will never let us go?"

The deity sneered as he watched Cillian's demon army fighting under the banner of the Heavenly Army, serving as little more than cannon fodder. Yet as he observed the battlefield layout more closely, something about Cillian's forces caught his attention. Their formation was extremely deliberate, and it didn't look like they were going all out either, They weren't just fighting, it looked like they were preparing for something.

"Wait…" His eyes narrowed. "This setup… could it be?"

This god's name was Tagore. His divine realm was a pure, high-order magical world, a realm of structured energy and intricate laws.

Outwardly, it appeared unremarkable, but in truth, Tagore had discovered several rare magic rules within the Misty Realm long ago. With their integration, his domain had expanded toward the theoretical limit of what magic could achieve.

Once his followers fully broke through these theories, he too could transcend the limits of a mid-level deity. He could gather additional divine fire and advance toward the realm of the higher gods. Though he lacked true divinity and an official godhood title, he knew such things were only obstacles until one's power became undeniable. When that day came, Sequence gods would willingly offer him a subordinate position.

All he needed was time.

But the Zerg invasion had ruined everything.

When the swarm descended upon his world, Tagore, like countless lower gods, could only retreat into his divine realm and try to resist.

Yet the moment his forces clashed with the Zerg , he understood that resistance was meaningless. Without divine status or protection, he was bound to the pull of this nascent multiverse. His realm would eventually collapse, and his armies would be overrun.

Despair had settled in.

Then, the angel of punishment appeared.

At first, Tagore felt relief. Salvation had come. Peter's descent into the multiverse filled him with renewed hope that perhaps Heaven would intervene to destroy the swarm.

For a brief moment, Tagore even believed he might survive. But that illusion shattered when he tried to reach the outside realms using his own divine fire and magical technology.

He discovered that Peter had sealed every passage of information.

Every link to the greater cosmos was cut off.

The angel had caged them in.

Unlike the lower gods, who were still too ignorant to notice, Tagore immediately grasped the truth. The angels weren't here to save them.

He watched as Paradise unleashed some of its deepest trump cards, divine armaments and heavenly seals that should never have appeared in any lesser conflict.

The moment those weapons were revealed, Tagore knew none of them would be allowed to leave alive. No witness could be permitted to carry such knowledge beyond this battlefield. The politics of the Heavenly Sequence gods demanded secrecy above all.

They were all destined to die.

The thought became certainty when heavens envoys, those winged "messengers" cloaked in holy light, descended and spoke to him of "cooperation." Their tone, their eyes, and their fake benevolence, everything confirmed his worst fear.

They were all already marked for death.

Tagore refused to accept that fate. He had not spent countless eras climbing toward godhood, mastering obscure laws, only to die trapped in some cosmic experiment.

So he made a decision.

After the Zerg were dealt with, he would turn his remaining power against Heavens Mountain itself.

To attack Heaven, especially in front of an angel, was utter lunacy. Even Tagore knew that, but he no longer cared.

And now, as he watched Cillian's demonic army maneuvering across the battlefield, realization dawned.

A slow smile crept across his face.

"So… I'm not the only madman," he whispered. "This one's even madder than me. He's actually scheming under the eyes of the angels."

——————x——————

Meanwhile, deep within the Endless Abyss.

"Damn it… how is this possible?"

In one of his experimental idealistic worlds, Cillian stared down at a pulsing ball of flesh cupped in his hand. His expression twisted with horror. Since his transmigration, this was the first time he had ever been truly afraid.

That fear was because of this thing, the flesh in his grasp.

The mass writhed violently within his divine fire, endlessly regenerating as fast as it was destroyed. Through the gaps in the flame, one could almost hear it scream, though no sound escaped. Without the divine fire restraining it, this abomination could have already devoured half the Abyss itself. Not half the plane, half the Abyss.

"Great Lord of the Abyss," the brain worm hissed, trembling as it hid behind Damon. "I suggest you destroy this thing immediately! This creature will be the end of all things! Even the Zerg may fall to its corruption!"

Damon, usually fearless, felt his own mental image recoil at the aura emanating from the flesh. He swallowed hard. "My Lord… are you certain you can control it?"

It was also the first time Damon had ever questioned Cillian.

Cillian, however, forced his expression into calm. "I don't know if I can control it," he admitted. "But for now, it fears my divine fire. As long as that remains true, I can keep it sealed."

His gaze darkened. "But if we open it again… it will break free. And once it does, nothing we do will stop it."

He stared at the writhing abomination, the divine flames casting shifting light across his face.

"This thing…" he said quietly, almost to himself. "I don't know if it can even still be called a weapon."

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