I Am The Swarm

Over the course of five months, the Yuntu Race had not only depleted more than half of their spare parts inventory but also exhausted their reserves of special ammunition, such as dark energy mines. In a low-intensity war, these issues might not have been significant. A fleet of their scale typically included various supply ships and even portable space factories.

While these factories couldn’t produce entire warships, they could manufacture heavily worn parts and expendable ammunition. During a lull in the fighting, they could set up near a planet and, given some time, replenish their stocks.

However, after five months of continuous warfare, there had been no time for rest or repairs. If not for the Yuntu Race’s technology that allowed them to forcibly enter deep sleep, they would have likely collapsed long ago.

The Swarm, on the other hand, fared somewhat better. Their massive Space Octopuses didn’t require rest, and thanks to the unique nature of their biotechnology, even heavily worn parts could be restored through basic metabolic processes. Damaged tissues could be shed like dead skin and regrown.

Moreover, unlike the Yuntu Race, which was isolated and without reinforcements, the Swarm received a steady stream of reinforcements. Over the five months, the Swarm had replenished over 100 million units of Primordial-class or higher, including 1,000 Desolation-Class Motherships, doubling their original numbers and significantly enhancing their ability to breach enemy lines.

Two more months passed. Although the Yuntu forces in the northwest had managed to break out with at least 10 million warships, their fierce counterattacks had inflicted heavy losses on the Swarm.

However, within the encirclement, the Yuntu fleet’s defensive capabilities had greatly diminished due to the loss of the unmanned drone barrier. With 2,000 Desolation-Class Motherships providing pinpoint penetration capabilities, combined with the offensive coverfire of the main forces, the Swarm successfully breached the Yuntu fleet’s defenses multiple times.

Yet, the Yuntu Race’s decisive use of indiscriminate attacks managed to repel these breaches each time, though at great cost. More importantly, this relentless warfare began to take a psychological toll on the Yuntu.

The Yuntu Race was known for their discipline and decisiveness, as evidenced by their willingness to carry out indiscriminate attacks without hesitation. However, the constant stress of such high-intensity warfare, coupled with the moral weight of repeatedly sacrificing their own, began to drive some Yuntu to the brink of madness.

“Captain, that monster is on the YT10440. We can’t get a clear shot,” a crew member reported after extensive calculations.

The captain’s face darkened. “I order you to fire!”

“But that would mean hitting our own ship.”

“The YT10440 is already lost. The moment that monster landed on it, it was doomed. If we don’t destroy it now, it will move on to the YT10390 or even us. The crew of the YT10440 should understand. Their sacrifice will save more of our people.”

“Captain, how can you say that? This is too selfish.”

“By sacrificing the YT10440, I live, you live, and we remain part of the fleet. We retain our combat strength and can continue to fight the Swarm. But if we don’t take this chance to destroy that monster, the YT10440 will still be lost, the YT10390 will be lost, and we will die. In the end, the commander will order an indiscriminate attack to clear our sector, and even more of our people will die. What would you choose, soldier?”

The captain’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous, almost mad light, yet his words were cold and logical, leaving little room for argument.

“But we don’t have the authority to attack our own. We’ll face a court-martial for this,” the soldier weakly protested, making a final stand. “Captain, if you were on the YT10440, would you want your allies to fire on you?”

The captain closed his eyes and sighed. “Carry out the order, soldier. I’ll take full responsibility.”

The soldier stared at the captain, searching his face for any sign of hesitation or remorse. But all he saw was cold indifference.

At that moment, he understood the captain’s choice. A wave of fear washed over him, growing rapidly until he trembled.

The ancient saying, “Do not do unto others what you would not have done unto yourself,” no longer applied. The captain had clearly reached a point where he was willing to do unto others what he would have done unto himself. If that monster got any closer to their ship, the consequences would be unthinkable.

Coordinates were quickly adjusted, and the fire control radar locked onto the Primordial Body wreaking havoc on the YT10440. To ensure a kill, the ship’s power systems were pushed to their limits, and over a hundred main and secondary cannons fired simultaneously.

The Primordial Body, confident in its shielded position, was caught off guard by the barrage. The close-range, overwhelming firepower instantly obliterated it—and the YT10440 along with it.

The unauthorized attack on a friendly ship was quickly detected by nearby Yuntu vessels and automatically reported to the command center. Upon seeing the report, the commander remained silent, unsure how to react, and could only sigh.

An intangible shift began to spread, a grim acceptance of the new reality. The Swarm’s tactic of breaching and causing chaos within the Yuntu fleet became increasingly difficult to execute. Without the ability to use the enemy’s own ships as shields, the Primordial Bodies’ close-combat effectiveness was significantly reduced.

However, this small change wasn’t enough to reverse the Yuntu Race’s overall decline.

The Primordial Bodies that breached the Yuntu fleet were launched as projectiles from Desolation-Class Motherships. Their numbers were minuscule compared to the scale of the battlefield.

Their primary purpose was to create chaos, not to inflict significant casualties. So, in response to the Yuntu’s desperate one-for-one sacrifices, the Swarm quickly adapted their tactics.

The breaching Primordial Bodies became more agile, never staying in one place for long. The era of Luo-style Combat Technique performances was over. Instead, they would occasionally fire their main cannons, reducing their destructive efficiency but rendering the Yuntu’s sacrificial tactics ineffective while diverting more of the Yuntu’s attention.

As the tactical battle ebbed and flowed, the Yuntu fleet within the encirclement continued to be whittled down. Seven months had passed since the war began, and the fastest reinforcements were less than a month away from reaching the battlefield.

But by then, over 20 million Yuntu warships had been lost, a casualty rate nearing 50%. On the Swarm’s side, although they had lost over 60 million Primordial Bodies—nearly three times the Yuntu’s losses—their reinforcements had kept their numbers strong. The Swarm now fielded 320 million units of 500-meter class or larger, a 60% increase from the start of the war.