The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The Chimera Ant workers moved with relentless precision, their claws and mandibles digging into the soft earth as they widened the hole beneath the Mist Whale. Mikhailis stood a short distance away, his halberd planted firmly in the ground beside him. The battlefield was quiet now, save for the faint hum of Rodion's analysis in his ear. The mist swirled sluggishly, as if mourning the loss of its guardian, while faint glimmers from the Mist Whale's dimming runes bathed the area in an eerie light.

Mikhailis crossed his arms, watching as the workers secured the colossal beast. Its lifeless body seemed heavier now, as if the absence of its ethereal presence weighed it down further. The ground trembled when the whale's bulk shifted, and he felt the vibrations travel up through his boots.

<Excavation nearing completion. The Mist Whale's mass has been accounted for, but structural integrity of the surrounding terrain remains precarious. Exercise caution when positioning additional resources.>

Of course, it's always precarious. You'd think I was planning to drop a palace on this thing, Mikhailis thought, smirking to himself. He stepped closer to the pit's edge, observing the workers as they created an intricate network of supports to stabilize the massive creature.

"Careful now," he murmured, half to himself. The Chimera Ants responded without hesitation, adjusting their positions as if attuned to his thoughts. Their efficiency never ceased to amaze him. Each clawed motion was deliberate, precise, as though they'd rehearsed this exact scenario a thousand times.

When the last supports were in place, the Mist Whale's body settled into the pit with a faint thud that shook the earth, sending subtle vibrations rippling through the surrounding terrain. Mikhailis felt the tremor travel up through his boots, the ground seeming to groan under the immense weight of the creature. Above, the mist swirled in slow, languid motions, as if acknowledging the whale's final resting place. The Chimera Ant workers, undeterred by the subtle shifts in the earth, swarmed the perimeter with practiced efficiency. Their claws scraped against the soil as they carefully layered loose dirt and foliage over the pit, their movements precise and almost ritualistic. Each worker operated in seamless harmony, the scene resembling a coordinated dance of survival and instinct. Within minutes, the massive hole transformed, its edges disappearing under a meticulous camouflage of greenery and disturbed earth. To the untrained eye, it now looked like nothing more than an untouched patch of forest floor, the haunting reality of what lay beneath hidden entirely. Mikhailis let out a slow breath, his gaze lingering on the patch of ground.

For something that big, it feels too quiet now, he thought, his sharp eyes scanning the freshly concealed surface. The battlefield beyond was eerily silent, littered with remnants of their earlier fight. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel a sense of triumph, though it was tempered by the lingering weight of exhaustion. He stepped back, his boots crunching softly against the scattered debris of the skirmish, and turned his attention to the scattered monster corpses that dotted the area, each a testament to their grueling victory.

<Camouflage complete. The Mist Whale is now fully concealed. Shall I initiate resource analysis for potential disassembly?>

Mikhailis nodded, scanning the battlefield. The scattered remains of other monsters lay strewn across the ground, their twisted forms a grim reminder of the earlier chaos.

"Yeah, Rodion. Go ahead. But tell me something—what kind of traits do you think this thing will pass on to the Queen?"

<Preliminary analysis suggests traits related to environmental adaptation and magical resonance. The Mist Whale's ability to manipulate its surroundings and amplify its power through external mediums may influence the next generation of variants. However, precise results remain unpredictable until assimilation is complete.>

Mikhailis's lips curved into a grin.

Magical resonance, huh? That could make things interesting. He crouched down, picking up a piece of broken chitin from one of the fallen Chimera Ant soldiers. It was still warm to the touch, the faint glow of its internal magic fading slowly.

"How's the next batch of variants coming along?" he asked, turning the fragment over in his hand.

<I suggest patience, as it will happen soon: Approximately in two days>

"Two days?" Mikhailis raised an eyebrow.

"You better not be pulling my leg, Rodion. I've been waiting to field my first variant squad for weeks now."

<I assure you, my projections are precise. Unlike your propensity for procrastination.>

"Ah, the sarcasm. My one constant in this chaotic world." Mikhailis chuckled, tossing the chitin fragment aside.

"Fine. I'll wait. But they'd better be worth it."

<Your skepticism is noted. Now, if I may—it is advisable to return to your original body. The Skullborne Ravager's hunting schedule requires synchronization. Additional delays may compromise operational efficiency.>

Mikhailis sighed, rolling his shoulders.

"Fine, fine. Let's get this over with. Initiate the transfer."

The Hypnoveil talisman in his hand began to glow faintly, its energy wrapping around him like a warm veil. He closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts as the familiar sensation of disconnection washed over him. For a moment, everything felt suspended—a void where time and space ceased to exist. Then, with a sudden jolt, he felt his consciousness snap back into place.

His eyes opened to the dim glow of his quarters, the faint golden light from a nearby lantern flickering against the smooth wooden walls. The familiar scent of wood and metal filled the air, grounding him in the reality of his original form. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim surroundings, and became aware of a soft weight against him. Glancing down, he found Cerys nestled against his chest, her fiery red hair cascading over his bare skin like a silken curtain. She was sleeping soundly, her breathing steady, her expression uncharacteristically peaceful. Her slender arm draped loosely over his waist, and he felt the warmth of her presence seeping into him. A faint flush crept over his cheeks, and he exhaled softly, careful not to disturb her slumber. His body ached from the strain of the day's activities, but for a moment, the pain seemed distant, overshadowed by the surreal comfort of the scene.

"What a day," he thought wryly, his gaze lingering on the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders. With a reluctant sigh, he shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, and prepared himself for the tasks ahead.

<Transfer complete. Skullborne Ravager is now operational, with the hypnotized goblin placeholder secured and guarded by Fire Scarabs. Additional measures have been implemented to ensure minimal risk.>

Mikhailis rubbed his temples, a tired smile tugging at his lips.

"Thanks, Rodion. You're a lifesaver."

<I merely execute my programming. Your gratitude, while appreciated, is unnecessary.>

He chuckled softly, leaning back against the wall. The weight of his responsibilities pressed heavily on him, but for the moment, he allowed himself a rare moment of respite.

Another long day. But at least I'm still here.

Sleep claimed him quickly, pulling him into its embrace. The edges of his consciousness blurred, and he found himself adrift in a dream that felt both familiar and foreign.

___

The sterile light of his lab greeted him as he opened his eyes, bathing the room in an artificial glow that was both familiar and alien. Every surface was meticulously arranged, the faint hum of machines creating a soothing rhythm that seemed to echo his own heartbeat. He ran a hand over the cool steel of the counter, the chill seeping into his fingertips as a wave of nostalgia washed over him, sharp and bittersweet. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking it all in—the precision, the quiet hum, the faint scent of ozone that clung to the air like a forgotten memory.

"Wow," he murmured to himself, his voice barely breaking the silence. His gaze swept across the room, landing on the rows of neatly labeled vials and instruments. It feels like a lifetime ago. The sense of familiarity was almost overwhelming, but beneath it lurked a strange unease, as if the lab held secrets he had long buried.

He stepped outside, and the scene shifted seamlessly, the sterile walls of the lab giving way to the grandiose halls of the Ruslanian palace. The sudden transition was jarring, the cold precision of the lab replaced by the suffocating opulence of royal duty. Ornate chandeliers cast a warm light over polished floors, and the faint scent of aged wood and perfume filled the air. Mikhailis paused at the threshold, his hand brushing against the gilded doorframe. Back here again, he thought, his chest tightening with a mixture of longing and apprehension.

It's been a while since I've been here.

Then there, he saw a figure, that he missed very much, but at the same time conflicted to meet.

"Dimitri," Mikhailis called, a note of surprise in his voice. His brother's face was uncharacteristically bright, a genuine smile replacing the usual burdened expression.

"Mikhailis! You're up early. Come, join me for breakfast," Dimitri said, clapping him on the shoulder.

The warmth in Dimitri's voice was disarming, a stark contrast to the usual guarded tone Mikhailis had grown accustomed to. He followed his brother down the grand corridor, the sound of their boots echoing against the polished marble floor. The faint scent of aged wood and fresh pastries wafted through the air, a subtle reminder of mornings long past. As they entered the dining hall, the grandeur of the room seemed to press down upon him—the gilded chandeliers casting intricate patterns across the ornate walls, the long table set with precision that bordered on obsessive. Their parents were already seated, their postures stiff with the weight of unspoken expectations as always. The atmosphere shifted immediately, the air heavy with tension that settled like a storm cloud over the room, threatening to break at any moment.

"Dimitri, you should take notes from your brother," their father began, his tone sharp. "Mikhailis may not care for the throne, but at least he doesn't stumble through his duties like you."

I guess he's the same as always.

Dimitri laughed, a sound that seemed almost too light for the situation. "Father, if Mikhailis wanted the throne, I'd gladly step aside. But alas, he's too busy chasing butterflies."

Mikhailis grinned. "Butterflies, anime, and a bit of freedom. That's the dream."

Their mother sighed, shaking her head. "When will you two take things seriously?"

Despite the jabs and criticisms, Mikhailis couldn't help but feel a strange sense of belonging. The palace's grandeur, the biting remarks, even Dimitri's unusual laughter—it all felt like home. But something lingered at the edge of his thoughts, a nagging unease he couldn't quite place.

Ah.... Then Mikhailis realized.

This Phenomenon.

I guess I'm homesick...

____

"-Ness,"

"-Highness,"

"Your Highness," the voice said, soft but urgent.

Mikhailis blinked, his vision clearing to reveal Cerys leaning over him. Her bare shoulders caught the faint light filtering into the room, her long red hair cascading around her like a fiery halo.

"What… what happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Cerys's green eyes were filled with concern. She placed a hand on his forehead, her touch cool against his fevered skin.

"Your Highness, you're burning," she said softly.