The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

"They're tough little guys, aren't they," Mikhailis said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched the Chimera Ant workers scuttle over the shattered remains of the cavern. Their movements were precise, mechanical, but there was something strangely comforting in their silent industry.

The faint glow from the serpent's crystal shards painted the workers in ghostly light as they diligently repaired the cracks in the walls and arranged fragments of the monster's core into neat piles. They operated without complaint, without pause, their focus absolute.

Rodion's voice crackled into Mikhailis' ear, its usual formal tone carrying a faint edge of satisfaction.

<Efficiency levels are operating at 98%. Resource recovery now at 76%. All core fragments deemed usable are being processed and transported back to the nest. Stabilization of the cavern's structural integrity is proceeding at optimal speed.>

"Don't overwork them, Rodion," Mikhailis replied, leaning his head back against the cavern wall with a groan.

"They're not machines."

<Correct. They are far superior. Machines lack the adaptability and strategic decision-making capabilities of the Chimera Ant variants.>

Mikhailis snorted, the sound turning into a weak cough.

"What, you're proud of them now?"

<I do not possess emotions such as pride, Mikhailis. However, it would be illogical not to acknowledge their performance.>

His lips curled into a faint smirk.

"Keep telling yourself that, buddy."

Despite Rodion's clinical tone, Mikhailis couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief. Watching the Chimera Ants work—repairing, salvaging, recovering—was a stark contrast to the chaos of the battle earlier. The cavern, once a warzone, was now a hive of tireless activity. It reminded him that despite the monstrous foes he faced, he wasn't entirely alone.

His gaze followed a group of workers hauling massive shards of the Crystalgloom Serpent's body toward a makeshift collection point. Their small forms seemed almost comical as they balanced pieces twice their size on their backs, moving with unwavering determination. Another team had begun laying out moss bedding, layering it with soft dirt to create what Mikhailis realized was a recovery spot—clearly intended for him.

"They even made me a bed? Huh." He shook his head lightly, voice tinged with amusement. "And people say insects don't have manners."

Rodion didn't reply immediately, but the faint hum of the interface seemed to flicker, as if choosing whether to engage with his sarcasm. Mikhailis wasn't about to let it go unnoticed.

"Admit it, Rodion. You're jealous they're better caretakers than you."

<Jealousy is an inefficient human sentiment. I merely prioritize functionality over theatrics. Your survival remains the critical parameter here.>

"That's what someone jealous would say."

Mikhailis smiled faintly to himself, despite the dull ache spreading through his chest. His ribs felt like they'd been crushed beneath the weight of a building, and his muscles screamed with every shallow breath. Still, watching the Chimera Ant workers move with such purpose was enough to distract him from the discomfort.

One worker, smaller than the others, paused near him. Its antennae twitched as it turned its head slightly, almost as if checking on him. The quiet tilt of its small frame was oddly inquisitive, its beady eyes catching the faint glimmer of the core light. After a moment, it scuttled away, leaving behind a faint scratch of sound that echoed in the still cavern.

"Even they're checking up on me," Mikhailis murmured.

"You could learn something, Rodion."

<Perhaps if I developed antennae, you would take my warnings more seriously.>

Mikhailis barked a weak laugh, wincing as it jostled his ribs.

"Don't tempt me. I might commission you a pair."

For a moment, silence stretched between them, filled only with the rhythmic clicking of the Chimera Ants. The workers had begun sealing more cracks in the cavern walls, smoothing over fractures with methodical care. Every flicker of movement—every piece carried, every stone reinforced—painted a strange picture of efficiency and resilience.

Rodion's voice returned, this time softer, almost contemplative.

<Observation: Despite heavy casualties, the Chimera Ant soldiers and workers continue to operate at peak performance. Their adaptability and resilience are... notable.> Your next journey awaits at My Virtual Library Empire

Mikhailis' gaze lingered on the battered soldier ants. Of the army that had marched alongside him, only sixty remained. They moved slower now, their movements punctuated by pauses as workers patched cracks in their exoskeletons or reinforced damaged limbs. Yet, despite their injuries, they didn't falter.

"I know I said this before, but they're survivors," Mikhailis said quietly.

"They don't stop, do they?"

<Their purpose is singular. Survival. Growth. Evolution.>

There was no smugness in Rodion's tone now—only a simple statement of fact. Mikhailis leaned his head back again, closing his eyes briefly as he absorbed the words. It was strange. He'd never imagined a world where insects—his beloved insects—could become something this… monumental. This loyal. It felt surreal, like the plot of one of the anime he loved so much.

But it wasn't fiction. They were real. And they had saved his life.

There was silence for a while, until.

<Would you like me to check on Cerys?>

Mikhailis blinked, jolted out of his momentary stupor.

"Yeah. She okay?"

A beat of silence, then Rodion's calm reply:

Rodion paused briefly before replying, as though gathering data.

<Cerys' vital signs remain stable. Her condition is unchanged. She remains unconscious near the campfire.>

A soft exhale escaped Mikhailis' lips, relief washing over him like a wave. He let his gaze drift toward where he imagined the campfire still burned.

"She's tougher than she looks," he murmured, his voice carrying a faint smile. "But I'm still not telling her how close I came to dying today."

Rodion's reply came quickly, as if chastising him.

<Your habit of withholding critical information is an ongoing concern, Mikhailis. She is an ally.>

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably as the wall dug into his back.

"But I doubt she'd appreciate hearing about me becoming serpent chow. I'll just tell her I… tripped. Sounds believable."

<Sarcasm is not an effective recovery strategy. Rest is.>

Mikhailis cracked a grin, though his eyelids felt heavier by the second.

"You're bossy, Rodion. You know that, right?"

<And yet you are still breathing. Correlation remains statistically significant.>

"Touché," Mikhailis muttered, smirking faintly.

For a while, he didn't speak again. He simply listened to the soft hum of the Chimera Ants working, their methodical movements lulling him into a strange calm. Though his body ached and his limbs refused to move, there was a strange sense of peace here—a silent acknowledgment that, for now, they were safe.

He let his eyes drift closed, just for a moment, his breathing steadying.

"You're right, Rodion. For once."

<I'll make a note of your rare agreement. Now stop talking. You need rest.>

Mikhailis chuckled faintly, though it dissolved into a cough. Still, he let the words hang, leaning further into the wall's support as the faint clicks and hums of his ant allies surrounded him.

"Good," Mikhailis exhaled softly, relief washing over him.

"She's tougher than she looks… but I'm still not telling her how close I came to dying today."

He closed his eyes briefly, the weight of exhaustion bearing down on him. He wanted to move, to stand up and ensure everything was truly secure, but his body refused to cooperate. Rodion, as if sensing his intent, chimed in.

"Bossy as ever," Mikhailis murmured, though he made no attempt to move.

For a few minutes, silence settled again, broken only by the faint sounds of the Chimera Ants at work.

Until finally.

A strange glow caught his eye.

Mikhailis stirred, forcing himself upright despite the protests of his battered body. His gaze landed on the center of the cavern, where the shattered remains of the serpent's core pulsed faintly. The shards glowed with an ethereal light, their fractured edges humming with mana.

<Mikhailis, I strongly advise you to proceed with caution. Preliminary scans indicate that the remnants of the Crystalgloom Serpent's core contain highly concentrated S-tier mana. Residual instability detected. Touching or moving the fragments without proper preparation may trigger an unpredictable response.>

Mikhailis blinked, his vision still wavering slightly. He let out a strained chuckle, the sound dry.

"Rodion, you're telling me not to touch something glowing and humming ominously? What, you think I'm an idiot?"

<Statistically speaking, I have observed enough of your reckless decision-making to consider it a distinct possibility.>

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Mikhailis muttered, staggering to his feet. His muscles screamed in protest, every joint feeling as though it had been forged from rusted iron. Still, his curiosity—and stubbornness—got the better of him. His eyes remained fixed on the shards, the light reflecting faintly against his cracked glasses.

The glow pulsed softly, almost as though the pieces of the core were alive. The faint hum resonated in the cavern air, sending ripples through the mist lingering near the ground.

"Rodion," Mikhailis said, his voice quieter now, more focused.

"Can you analyze it further? You mentioned instability."