Life is born of an instinctive desire to reproduce, and the senses and spirit are only unintended byproducts created when carrying out the basic instinct of reproduction. Those who don't submit to their primal desire claim to be wise, unaware that they are already considered food for the offspring of Tayzzyronth, the Aeon of Propagation, the Father of the Swarm. The multitudes of the Swarm King's offspring can cover the starry night, their antenna long enough to measure the galaxy. Worlds fearfully call the self-replicated chaos as — The Swarm.
Spirit, soul, technology, philosophy... In the thousand compound eyes of Tayzzyronth, the universal laws pursued by all intelligent races are but a side effect of the ultimate goal of reproduction. The Swarm doesn't seek a following, for worship itself is an unnecessary desire. Only the flying creatures that succumb to the primal instinct will be attracted to its self-replicating nature, transforming to be part of the Swarm after becoming its food.
Even without their king, The Swarm continues expanding at an incalculable rate, bringing fear and disaster to worlds chosen as their nests.