The water level in the cave was rising, submerging overturned tables and chairs, and continuing to surge upward relentlessly.

  However, the bees clinging to the ceiling showed no signs of panic. After all, the highest point here was above the lake's surface—even if the water rose, it couldn't reach their mother.

  Most of these guardian bees were converted from the first batch of priestesses, while others were born from later deceased individuals. The first formed bees would examine larvae arriving here—if they came from strong souls, they would patiently guard them as they spun cocoons and metamorphosed. The others would be carried to the mother worm's mouth, serving as nourishment for the queen bee's transformation along with larvae corpses poisoned by Herod's Water.

  The cave floor was strewn with messy threads resembling fallen hair, mostly from these larvae that failed to metamorphose.

  The poison Selena obtained from the Doomsday Clock had killed worms growing from some villagers. Their corpses were partially eaten by the mother worm, while the rest spilled into the lake. The soul fragments within the worms lured many nearby people to drown themselves, though Yvette intercepted most. Still, a small number reached the lakebed and were consumed by the queen bee, barely compensating for the losses—yet still insufficient.

  Now was the critical moment for the mother worm's metamorphosis. Its wings had completely emerged from the cocoon formed by Selena and Sylsa's corpses. The wrinkled, fuzzy wings were filling with blood and flattening, requiring vast nourishment. So the guardian bees began dragging cocoons from the mother worm's honeycomb-like body, biting them open to tear the half-formed transforming larvae into glistening flesh chunks, feeding them to the mother worm's mouth.

  The ravenous queen bee didn't always accurately eat the offered food. This冷酷 mother's sharp mandibles often chewed up guardian bees as well, hence occasional crunching sounds echoing through the cave.

  It was then that Yvette visited again. The bees remembered this intruder's scent. As the buzzing intensified, swarms of guardian bees gathered, adopting attacking postures once more.

  Before they could dive, several dark round objects came flying. The guardian bees fiercely pounced, smashing the clay pots effortlessly with their hard exoskeletons, remaining unharmed.

  But the pots contained something else. As they shattered, clouds of white powder dispersed, accelerated by the bees' rapidly beating wings. To Yvette, this was visually observable—she could clearly see the flour mixing thoroughly with air, becoming cloud-like.

  A spark, electric arc, or high heat—anything would suffice. In this oxygen-rich environment, the flour particles' surface area had multiplied thousands of times. Like the energy stored in flour particles during milling, these floating white powders turned the cave into a perilous death trap.

  Yvette raised her gun, standing waist-deep in water. The larva writhing behind her neck was excruciatingly clear, bringing both pain and pleasure—yet she waited.

  The next instant, several bees broke through the flour cloud, charging at her.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Time's up. She pulled the trigger. The overheated bullet sparked against the barrel, shooting into the flour cloud as she fell backward.

  Almost as she submerged, the explosion's shockwave filled the cave with blazing red clouds. At the blast's epicenter, the ceiling collapsed—stalactites and the mother worm came crashing down. But beforehand, the intense heat had roasted them all. Brittle exoskeletons cracked open, revealing white protein-rich flesh inside.

  Martha paced anxiously in the woods when suddenly, the ground seemed to tremble briefly. Then she saw thick smoke rising from the lake's direction.

  The mushroom-shaped smoke vanished within seconds—faster than ordinary chimney smoke—leaving no trace, like a fleeting dream.

  Despite her master's warning to stay away, Martha rushed to the lakeshore.

  "This is—" Her constricted pupils reflected a massive shape floating in the water.

  As a liminal being between reality and dreams, the dead familiar's form reflected the dreamscape. Its downy coat burned away by invisible flames, soon revealing the hideous honeycombed body beneath.

  Each pore contained a ruptured bee—guts spilling, semi-liquid organs exposed beneath hard shells. Nearly a foot long, they resembled small hares.

  But Martha grew frantic—her master was nowhere in sight.

  Suddenly, an iron grip jerked her chin, twisting her around.

  "Didn't I tell you to stay away?"

  Martha's eyes widened. The vise-like grip prevented speech, so she conveyed apology and delight through glittering eyes.

  The hand belonged to a drenched figure—coat lost while swimming, shirt disheveled with buttons undone to the chest, revealing a bound bosom.

  For the first time, Martha realized her master was female. Yet this only intensified her worship—every inch seemed sacred and enchanting.

  Still gripped by the dream's violent distortions, Yvette wanted to see distress on Martha's lovely face. Finding the chin grip spoiled facial expressions, she loosened her hold, sliding fingers gently to the throat.

  So soft and slender—it might snap with slight pressure...

  While pondering this, her other hand probed the neck wound, extracting a bloody white maggot.

  These lovely creatures had partially controlled her, yet she'd dominated them her own way—through destruction.

  ["Zeus cherished four heroes—Hector, Sarpedon, Patroclus, and Achilles—yet all died. He loved Troy, still it was doomed. He favored Agamemnon too, granting scepter and throne, yet deceived him with false omens leading to his murder."]

  So that's it. Destroying beloved things does bring pleasure—and strength.

  She crushed the dead larva underfoot.

  "You're injured? I know herbal medicines—" Martha's offer was cut off by throat pressure.

  "Why disobey me? Did my tolerance give you delusions? You tempted me with this face before—your proud weapon..." Yvette tightened her grip, watching Martha's lips pale. Her mind wandered to a silver plate at home—perfect for displaying this lily-like head.

  "Has anyone told you how sweet you look? Like vanilla milk candy."

  Fine flowers belong in vases; pretty heads on platters.

  Then an untimely voice spoke:

  "Pardon me—is this Pluto Village?" Under the trees, a dust-covered blond youth tipped his hat.

  Martha collapsed gasping as the grip loosened. Dazed, she heard Yvette murmur:

  "Sir... first..."

  Yvette felt plunged into icy waters.

  He must have seen her monstrous cruelty...

  Staring blankly at Ulysses, she watched him draw a pistol from his coat.

  Even among colleagues, mutated members could be executed on sight without repercussions.

  Would she die now? Or face London's judgment?

  Wasn't this her anticipated end? Then why this grief?

  If only it weren't Sir delivering justice—she'd failed expectations again.

  Why repeat failures? Kindness only bred complacency—she deserved this fate, better off dead than alive...

  Closing her eyes, she feared Ulysses' disappointed gaze more than death. His boots clicked closer—then passed by.

  "Wait!" She grabbed his wrist as his gun pressed against Martha's head.

  "Don't worry, I'll eliminate this dangerous hybrid immediately," Ulysses reassured her.

  "Dangerous?" Yvette echoed blankly.

  "I witnessed this vile familiar threatening you. Per organizational protocol—execution is recommended."