When I woke the next day, the first thing I felt was warmth—a shifting, living weight pressing down on me. A dense blanket of [Nurses]—worker bees tasked with my care—crawled over my body like tiny healers from some strange dream. Their legs moved purposefully, their wings humming a soft, rhythmic lullaby as they cleaned my wounds and patched the damage I’d taken. The faint tickle of their movements felt oddly soothing, like a gentle massage.

  As I opened my eyes, I was greeted by dozens of glossy black ones staring back. They froze for a moment, their antennae twitching as if assessing my condition. Then, almost in unison, they gave what I could only describe as cheerful, insect-like smiles before resuming their meticulous work.

  I tried to sit up, but my body rebelled. Every muscle ached, as though I’d been trampled by a stampede. My limbs felt leaden, weighed down by exhaustion.

  "I was fighting the skeletons, and then…" My voice came out cracked and hoarse, more a rasp of thought than an actual sentence.

  Fragments of memory swirled in my head, disjointed and hazy. I remembered the boys doing something through the link—something reckless and unorthodox. It felt like I’d been pulled into a bizarre, disembodied state, seeing myself from the outside while still experiencing every sensation firsthand. We had all been inside my body at once, like a deranged version of a giant mecha piloted by too many minds. The memory was a chaotic blur, vivid in flashes but incomprehensible as a whole.

  I tried again to rise, but my legs buckled beneath me. The [Nurses] buzzed around me in alarm, their tiny bodies forming a protective wall. One draped a soft, silken blanket over my shoulders, their delicate movements insistent but gentle. Rest, they seemed to urge, their antennae brushing my skin like a mother’s comforting hand. Frustrated, I sank back into the bedding with a groan, my pride bruised more than my body.

  The faint hum of wings grew louder, drawing my attention. A familiar figure landed lightly on a jagged rock nearby. Yan, ever the excitable one, flanked by a small squad of bees. His grin stretched wide, his voice a chirping melody.

  "Queen Mother! You’re awake!" he exclaimed. "You won’t believe what we discovered while you were out."

  I squinted at him, my head pounding like a drum. "Ugh… feels like a hangover mixed with getting kicked in the skull. What are you talking about, Yan?"

  His excitement didn’t falter. "You remember what we did to help you with the skeletons and that oversized vulture?"

  "Vaguely… yeah?"

  "The information club found something incredible!" His wings buzzed with energy, his voice rising in pitch. "When we examined the link after the battle, we discovered traces of a phenomenon. Apparently, when we all worked together like that, something called a fusion happened inside the link. Normally, it’s a side effect of entering [Berserker] mode, but we figured out how to replicate it—without, uh, the whole ‘going crazy’ part."

  A cold pit formed in my stomach. "Fusion? What does that even mean?"

  Yan’s grin faltered, his demeanor shifting. The air around him thickened with an unfamiliar authority. When he spoke again, his voice was layered, strange. "It means we can do this now, Queen Mother."

  I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Through the link, I sensed something… wrong. Yan wasn’t alone. Another presence coiled within him, distinct yet merged. Steve.

  "F-Fuck! Is this some creepy possession thing?" I stammered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

  Yan—no, Steve—smiled faintly. "Not exactly. It’s more like… blending. It requires mutual consent or a significant power imbalance. It’s safe. Anyone attempting to infiltrate the link would be exposed instantly."

  I swallowed hard, my throat dry. The idea of melding minds, of sharing control, was as exhilarating as it was horrifying. Memories, instincts, skills—all overlapping. "Are we sure this won’t create another Usurper situation?"

  Steve’s confidence radiated through the link. "Unlikely. Consent is the cornerstone, and the system has safeguards. It’s not something that can be forced."

  "Okay… but what’s the upside?"

  "Plenty." Steve’s voice carried a hint of pride. "We can combine knowledge and abilities. Yan’s physical capabilities remain, but I can enhance them with my expertise—no magic required. It also allows you to be present in multiple places. You’re no longer just an observer through the link. You can act, speak, even fight."

  My chest tightened as the implications settled in. This wasn’t just an enhancement. It was a revolution.

  "So… that’s how I suddenly stopped sucking in the middle of that fight?"

  "Exactly." Steve’s tone was almost smug. "The [Shepherds] managed reflexes, the [Bards] handled evasive maneuvers, and the [Mages] coordinated magic. The information club laid out the strategy. Together, we made it work."

  I shivered, the weight of this new power settling over me like a storm cloud. The thought of so many minds intertwined, piloting my body, was both thrilling and deeply unsettling.

  "Impressive." I murmured. "But also… deeply creepy."

  Steve laughed, a sound layered with Yan’s natural cadence. "That’s fair. Creepy or not, it’s effective."

  “I remember… there were times we couldn’t agree on something, and then we just—”

  “We’d freeze.”

  “That’s right. Why did that happen?”

  “Disadvantages of shared consciousness, I guess?” Yan—no, Steve—shrugged with a lazy half-smile, his casual tone betraying how absurd the whole thing felt. “If you can’t agree on what to do, the body doesn’t move. Either someone takes full control, or everyone involved has to come to terms with the decision.”

  “That’s insane,” I muttered, leaning back against the cold, jagged stone wall. The rough surface pressed into my shoulder blades, grounding me in the reality of this strange conversation.

  “Yeah, but I think it’s kinda cool,” Yan said, his voice lifting with sudden enthusiasm. A sly grin spread across his face, mischief flickering in his eyes. “Watch this.” He raised one hand toward his mouth, only for the other hand to shoot up and slap it away with a loud smack.

  “Seriously?! Don’t pull that disgusting crap while I’m here. Especially not in front of the Queen Mother!” Steve’s voice snapped through Yan’s body like a whip, his tone sharp and commanding.

  “See?” Yan smirked again, his expression now a blend of amusement and arrogance. “You can’t do anything if both sides don’t agree.”

  “What’s the limit, though? How many people can you, uh, have inside at once?”

  “Strange way of putting it,” Steve muttered, his tone dry, “but there’s no real limit. Basically, everyone ‘merged’ with you when you needed us. The problem is, the more people involved, the harder it gets to make decisions. Imagine trying to steer a ship with fifty captains screaming at the wheel.”

  “Sounds like a recipe for paralysis,” I said, running a hand through my hair. The air was cold, but my skin burned with frustration. “Anyway, where’s Morthak? He’s the one who shoved me in this damn cave, right?”

  “The old man?” Yan asked, his tone shifting, more thoughtful now. “He left a few days ago. Said he had business elsewhere.”

  “Wait… days? How long was I out?”

  “Four days, seven hours, give or take,” Steve answered, his voice calculating, almost clinical.

  “Four days,” I repeated, the words heavy on my tongue. My stomach knotted, the weight of lost time settling in. My limbs still felt like lead, the haze of exhaustion lingering as if sleep had drained me rather than restored me.

  “Doesn’t matter!” Yan clapped his hands, his voice cutting through the tension. “The old man left us something. And it’s… interesting.”

  “Great,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Let me guess—another cryptic, inconvenient ‘gift.’ What is it this time? A riddle? A deathtrap?”

  “Nope. He left us a heart,” Yan said, his grin widening.

  I blinked. “A heart? Like… an actual heart?”

  “Not human,” Steve clarified. “We’re not sure what it is, but it’s alive. It’s… pulsating.”

  My skin crawled at the thought. “And he just left it here? No explanation?”

  “Oh, there was a note,” Steve said, sarcasm dripping from his words. “One word: ‘Enjoy.’”

  “Figures.” I sighed, pushing off the wall. “Alright. Let’s see this freaky gift.”

  The link between us tugged at my mind, and my vision swam as my consciousness shifted. When it cleared, I stood—no, floated—inside the body of a [Researcher]. Everything around me seemed impossibly large, the cavernous space distorted by my diminished perspective.

  And there it was.

  A grotesque mound of pulsing red flesh dominated the center of the room. Thick veins stretched across its surface, glowing faintly with an eerie blue light. The veins throbbed in time with the heart’s sickening rhythm, and a viscous liquid seeped from jagged openings, dripping into wax bowls held by worker bees. The air was suffocating, a metallic tang mixing with the hum of wings and the soft murmur of voices.

  “What the hell is this?” I muttered, unable to tear my eyes away from the horrifying sight.

  “If I may,” a [Scientist] stepped forward, his antennae twitching with nervous excitement. “We believe it is a heart. Possibly from a creature weighing between 2,500 and 4,000 pounds.”

  “Holy shit…” My voice trailed off as the heart’s rhythmic pulse echoed in the vast chamber.

  “Cool, huh?” Yan’s voice cut in, his usual smugness intact.

  “Cool?!” I snapped, glaring at him—or rather, the [Royal Guard] body he occupied. “This thing looks like it crawled out of a nightmare. What the hell am I supposed to do with it? Eat it?!”

  Yan barked out a laugh, but Steve’s voice was more cautious. “It’s not edible… at least, I hope not. But Morthak wouldn’t leave it without a reason.”

  I took a step closer, the heat radiating from the heart brushing against my skin. It wasn’t just alive—it felt alive, its energy pressing against me like an unseen force.

  A thought struck me, cold and unwelcome. “This thing… it’s meant for me, isn’t it?”

  Silence hung in the air. Even Yan didn’t have a quip this time.

  “What the hell does he expect me to do with it?” I whispered, my voice trembling as the heart’s pulse seemed to sync with my own. The thought of eating this twisted, throbbing mass made my stomach turn. "Guys... do I—do I have to eat this thing? Something like... when Daenerys had to eat a horse's heart in Game of Thrones?" My voice trembled at the thought, the cold sweat on my brow matching the chills running down my spine.

  "Erh..." Steve hesitated. "Could it be? I don't know. It doesn't look edible... but who knows?" His tone wavered between uncertainty and unease.

  "I—I'm a vegetarian." I said, though even I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice.

  "Cut the crap. You're not! You never have been." Steve shot back, his tone sharp. "Last week, I saw you scarfing down beef jerky."

  "Ugh... I'm not eating this thing. What are the other options?" I groaned, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to block out the unnerving sight.

  "Well..." A [Researcher] approached, his face drawn tight in concentration. "It could be because of the blood. The stuff leaking from it is full of magical energy and poison. Jasper says he could distill it, if only he had his lab."

  "Magical energy?" I raised an eyebrow. "I can feel it. It's there, but it's... not much. But poison? How deadly is it?"

  The [Researcher] chuckled, but there was a hollow edge to it. "Reeeeeeeally deadly. Aldy said even he can't make something like that these days."

  "Yuck." I grimaced, the thought of consuming this thing fading quickly. "So eating it is off the table. What else is it for?"

  "I don’t know." Steve admitted, exasperated. "But I do know it’s the reason the fight and care club's been so busy. The smell attracts magical creatures around here. At first, it was a godsend—no more hunting. But now..." His voice trailed off, his frown deepening. "It’s just a damn nuisance."

  "Ohh..." I sighed, the realization dawning on me. "I get it. Dead bodies always attract scavengers. I just didn't expect this one to draw so many."

  "Yeah, it’s a hassle, but it’s been beneficial too. More meat, more XP, more resources. We've had a few soldiers level up recently, and Hans is one step closer to evolving!" Steve said, his tone lighting up for a moment before quickly darkening again. "But it’s still a damn headache."

  "At least there’s some good news." I said, rubbing my forehead. "But can we preserve this thing? Before it rots? If it even rots."

  "Maybe? Who knows?" Steve glanced back at the thing, the endless pulse of its form unsettling him. "It’s been days since Morthak left this thing with us, and look at it! Still pulsing like it was just ripped from someone's chest!"

  "I don’t know." Yan added, his voice a little more speculative. "Maybe this thing is different from the organs we’re used to. Maybe magic did something to it that we don’t understand."

  "I don’t care what it is." Steve snapped, his tone turning hard. "All I know is this shit is dangerous. The blood’s toxic, and it’s drawing magical beasts here. If it were up to me, I’d lock it in a level 5 containment box. But... Ugh, all our resources are gone, and it'll take a while to rebuild our home." He threw up his hands in frustration.

  I stood there for a moment, staring at the grotesque organ. The faint blue liquid leaking from it shimmered under the dim light, pooling into the waxy bowls the bees were collecting it in. I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of unease. The smell was overpowering now, a mix of sickly sweetness and something far worse—rot, decay, death. My stomach churned, but the worst part was the pulsing. It was like the thing still had a pulse, still held a life of its own. I could almost hear it—thump, thump—like the slow rhythm of something dark and ancient, calling from the shadows.

  'What did Morthak think he was doing?' I wondered, shaking my head. This isn’t a gift. This is a curse.

  The dark, wet scent filled my nostrils, and for a brief moment, I felt the room constrict around me, as if the very air was thickening. Every beat of that heart sent a shiver down my spine. How was this supposed to help?

  "Can we encase it in a magical bubble? Maybe fill it with [Life Drops]... or some kind of alcohol, or an alchemical preservation mixture?" I muttered, my voice barely rising above a whisper, the words spilling from my lips as if they were meant for the air itself rather than anyone in particular. The question lingered, unanswered, hanging in the cold stillness of the room like a specter.

  From the corner, a voice broke the silence. "Hmm... maybe." said one of the [Researchers], their tone measured, tinged with hesitation. "But we’d need your main body here, Queen Mother. This isn’t something we can manage alone. We might need assistance from the magic club, but... aside from that, I think it’s possible to create a bubble strong enough to hold this thing."

  I nodded, my gaze fixed on the object before me. Its once-pristine surface had begun to decay, the edges curling in like dying leaves. The faint scent of damp parchment and the sharper tang of iron filled the air, mingling with the oppressive dimness of the chamber. Shadows from flickering light danced across the rough stone walls, elongating and twisting like sinister forms waiting in the dark. My fingers trembled as I traced the table’s edge, my palms slick with a cold sweat. The weight of the situation pressed against my chest, heavy and unyielding. This was no ordinary problem—this was a warning, an omen of something far greater and far worse.

  A [Scientist] nearby added, their voice cutting through the suffocating silence. "We don’t have any alcohol in the hive... at least, not the kind we’d need. In the past, we’ve had fermented substances with trace amounts of alcohol, but nothing pure. And creating it now? Without the proper equipment, it’s impossible." They cast a disdainful glance at the object, their expression hard, as if blaming it for the limits of our resources.

  Another [Researcher] scoffed under their breath, their frustration evident. Running a hand through their hair, they muttered. "We could try brewing mead, but it’d take weeks, maybe months. And the volume we’d require... ridiculous. With the hive’s food stores running low as it is, diverting resources for such an experiment would be foolish—no, reckless." Their words trailed off as they met my gaze, defiant yet searching, waiting for me to deny their assessment. But I couldn’t. Their words carried bitter truth.

  From another corner, a softer voice spoke up, hesitant but resolute. "We could use Mom’s [Life Drops], Queen Mother, but the amount we’d need... the strain on our MP would be immense. And the risks—"

  "Unpredictable." I finished for them, my voice flat. My fingers dug into the table, the faint pain grounding me. The tension in the room clawed at my insides, each breath shallow and labored. Every passing second felt like a knife slicing away at our options, and at the decaying object that seemed to demand attention, its very presence a test of our resolve.

  "Very well." I said sharply, forcing strength into my voice even as my thoughts churned in turmoil. My hands clapped together, a sound that snapped through the room like a whip. All eyes turned to me, startled but attentive. "We’ll proceed as planned. First, we’ll encase it in a mana bubble to halt its decomposition. Then, we’ll experiment with the [Life Drops] for preservation. It may not be ideal, but it’s the best course of action for now."

  A ripple of tension passed through the room, silent but palpable. Each of them exchanged uneasy glances, their faces reflecting the weight of the task ahead. Yet they straightened, their collective response a chorus of obedience: "Yes, Queen Mother!"

  They bowed, some deeply, others stiffly, their respect laced with an undercurrent of fear and uncertainty. The flickering light illuminated their faces, casting shadows beneath their eyes that mirrored the doubt lingering there. I watched as they scattered, their movements hurried but purposeful, each determined to play their part despite the quiet dread that clung to us all.

  I remained rooted in place, my gaze drawn back to the object like a moth to flame. Its surface seemed to shift under the faint light, a trick of the eye or something far worse. My stomach twisted, the unease in my chest hardening into something darker. It felt wrong—all of this felt wrong. This object, this... thing, wasn’t just deteriorating. It was unraveling, its very essence slipping away like grains of sand through my fingers.

  "Holy shit!" I screamed, my voice cutting through the thick buzz of the hive. Every head turned toward me, wide eyes filled with curiosity and concern, but I barely noticed. My heart thundered in my chest, a wild symphony of shock and exhilaration.

  It had been so long—too long—since Hans had shown signs of evolving. I’d almost given up hope. The thought weighed on me more than I cared to admit, a guilty whisper in the back of my mind. Had I pushed him too hard? Forced him to grow faster than he was ready? Yet now, seeing him finally take that step, my doubt faded, replaced by a wave of relief and pride.

  Hans was the foundation of the hive, the unshakable pillar that held everything together when I couldn’t. He was the first, the one who had trained the others, and the one who carried the weight of their successes and failures alike. If I was the Queen Mother, he was the soul of our hive.

  He had always been there for me, even in my weakest moments. I could still feel the sting of his words during my darkest days—the sharp commands to get up, to fight, to keep going. Sometimes, his tough love was the only thing that kept me standing. Without Hans, the hive wouldn’t have survived... and maybe I wouldn’t have either.

  The murmurs of the others around me grew distant as I closed my eyes, seeking the familiar thread of gold that connected me to Hans. The bond was warm, steady, alive. In the quiet of my mind, his semi-transparent form flickered into view, glowing faintly, as though bathed in starlight.

  'Hans!' I called, my voice trembling with excitement. 'You did it! You finally evolved!' My chest swelled with pride, and a rare smile tugged at the corners of my lips. 'How do you feel? Did any of the options speak to you?'

  Hans stood tall in the quiet mental space, his presence as solid and unyielding as ever. His voice came through the link, deep and calm, though I detected a subtle undercurrent of uncertainty. 'Queen Mother, your words honor me. I feel... fulfilled. It is a step I’ve long awaited. But the choice ahead is daunting. If you wish to guide my evolution, I would gladly follow your will.'

  I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. 'No, Hans. This is your decision. Your future. I trust you to choose what’s best for yourself and for the hive.'

  A thoughtful silence stretched between us. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of careful deliberation. 'The paths before me are all worthy. [Bastion Knight] would strengthen my squad, a shield to protect and inspire. But then there’s [LifeKeeper], noble in purpose, though... I’ve never been drawn to magic. [Honorable Knight] tempts me as well. It would’ve been invaluable during your battle with Morthak—I could’ve ensured a fair fight, if not for the level restrictions.' His tone shifted, lighter, almost teasing. 'Though I doubt fairness matters much in war.'

  I chuckled softly, my chest tightening at the memory of that brutal battle. 'And the others?'

  Hans’ form flickered, his voice turning introspective. '[Nest Guardian] feels... right in a way I can’t explain. I’ve fought for so long, spilled so much blood. Deep down, I’ve always wanted to protect—to nurture what we’ve built. But the thought of staying still, leaving my squad behind—it feels... wrong. Like I’d be abandoning them.'

  I nodded, understanding his hesitation. Hans had always been a warrior, forged in the crucible of battle. The idea of stepping away from the frontlines would feel like severing a piece of himself.

  'And then there’s [Shield Destroyer].' His voice grew sharper, laced with intrigue. 'It’s a rare class. The ability to nullify shields, to strike through any defense... It’s tempting. With that power, I could ensure no enemy leaves unscathed.'

  I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. Hans was always thorough, weighing every option with the same meticulous care he brought to everything he did. 'You’ve thought about this a lot.' I murmured.

  'I have.' He admitted, his voice softening. 'Because this isn’t just about me—it’s about the hive. Every choice carries a cost.'

  I felt a swell of emotion—pride, admiration, something deeper I couldn’t quite name. Hans, the stoic warrior, had always been so much more than his intimidating exterior. To most, he was a force of nature, an unyielding sentinel. But to me, he was the heart of the hive, the steady hand that guided us through the storm.

  For a moment, we simply existed in the quiet of our bond, the weight of the decision hanging between us. 'Whatever you choose.', I finally said, my voice steady, 'know that I trust you completely. You’ve always put the hive first, Hans. I know you’ll make the right call.'

  Hans never liked killing, the carnage, or the bloodshed. He only found solace in the idea of serving the hive—of doing something that benefitted us all. Thinking about it now, I feel bad for him. No, not just for him—for all of them. I never stopped to ask if they even liked what they did. I simply assigned them roles based on necessity. The older ones had a choice, a sliver of freedom to pursue where they wanted to be. But the younger ones? They had no such luxury. They were bound to the hive's demands, their wants and desires cast aside for survival.

  Guilt gnawed at my insides, sharp and unrelenting. I found myself voicing it aloud, my tone bitter with regret. 'Hans, dear… Do you ever resent being born a soldier? Have I caused you pain by forcing you into this life of violence? If you wish for something else, you’re free to choose now.'

  Hans looked at me, his expression steadfast, unyielding. His response came swiftly, with the loyalty of one who had never dared dream another path. 'Not at all, my queen. I’ve always been proud to fulfill my purpose. When I was born, I only knew how to fight. As I grew, I learned to fight better—not because I was forced to, but because I wanted to. My drive to protect everyone I care about fuels me. If that path is paved with blood, so be it. I was born a warrior, and I’ll die a warrior.'

  His conviction was unshakable, each word resonating with the kind of certainty that could bend steel.

  I sighed deeply, my chest heavy with a pain I couldn’t place, as if the weight of my guilt was crushing the air from my lungs. 'I’m sorry, Hans. It’s just… for a moment, I felt overwhelmed. I’ve realized something: I never had a choice in becoming queen. For so long, I blamed the world, the stars, even the heavens themselves. But then I gave birth to all of you, and I… I made choices for you—choices you never asked for. Forced you into lives you didn’t choose, just as fate forced me into mine. Do you hate me for that? For deciding your futures before you could even understand what they might be?'

  The words lingered in the air like a fog, thick and unyielding. Memories flooded my mind, each one another needle of doubt. Like a mother dictating her children’s every move—choosing their clothes, their food, their friends—I had dictated their paths. Workers were born workers, soldiers were born soldiers, and no dream or ambition could free them from that destiny. Even if they leveled up, even if they clawed their way toward something greater, they were still bound by the choices I had made.

  Hans tilted his head slightly, his expression softening as if he could sense the storm inside me. 'Queen Mother, please don’t doubt yourself. None of us resent you. We’re grateful. You gave us purpose, and with it, unity. We all have strengths and weaknesses. I could never build like Levi or care for others like Ken. I couldn’t manage the hive like Steve, and I definitely couldn’t eat as much as Carl.' He chuckled, the sound light yet full of pride. 'But that’s okay. Each of us plays a part. My brothers cover for my weaknesses, just as I cover theirs. That’s what makes us strong.'

  A small smile broke through my guilt. 'You’re always the voice of reason, Hans. Thank you. You and your brothers… you’re the best parts of me.'

  He grinned, his sharp teeth glinting faintly in the dim hive light. 'Hmm, hmm! I’ll be heading to the nest soon. It’s time to choose my next path—Shield Destroyer or Nest Guardian. I’ll consult with Steve and weigh the hive’s needs. A tutor class could create stronger troops, but a shield-breaker would be invaluable in battle.'

  'Choose whatever you think is best.' I said softly. 'I trust you.'

  After he left, I wandered through the hive, my thoughts swirling. The air inside was thick with warmth, bolstered by heat spells and the collective body heat of the hive, yet the chill of my guilt clung to me like a shadow. Outside, the world was thawing, the icy grip of winter loosening as spring tiptoed closer. But inside, we were far from ready.

  The hive was evolving, wooden structures and waxed walls stretching higher with each passing day. Gardens spiraled upward, an intricate dance of nature and necessity, while dormitories dotted the walls like stars in the night. It was beautiful in its chaotic efficiency, but the pace was agonizingly slow.

  At the hive’s entrance, the soldiers stood vigilant as always, their eyes scanning the horizon with practiced precision. Their presence was a comfort and a reminder—a symbol of the balance we had to maintain between survival and sacrifice.

  The cold outside would soon give way to the challenges of spring, and with it, a renewed fight for resources. Yet the weight of my choices, of the lives I had shaped and the futures I had stolen, felt heavier than ever.

  A figure emerged on the horizon, growing clearer with each step I took. It was Hans, leading his group of knight bees. Some were stained with blood and grime, others carried wounded comrades.

  “Ugh… poor things. Are you hurt badly? Let me tend to your wounds.” My voice softened, filled with concern.

  One of the knights, a towering figure, answered with calm resolve. “Don’t worry, Queen Mother. It’s nothing serious. Just a few weary warriors and a broken leg—part of the cost of duty. Don’t waste your mana on us. The Care Club can manage.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, my voice tinged with doubt.

  A second knight, his tone more pragmatic, responded. “We’ve only got Zig as our Healer right now. He’s done his part to stabilize the injured, but anything beyond that would drain him. The other Healers are tending to high-risk groups and the infirmary.”

  I spotted Zig in the distance, a delicate figure waving at me from behind the group. His frail presence was a stark contrast to the burly, battle-hardened knights surrounding him. He was our healer, the calm amidst the storm. Yet, his fragility didn’t diminish his importance.

  “Hmm… I see. We needed more units, but with the lack of resources, space, and infrastructure… I can’t promise we’ll have new units any time soon.” I sighed.

  There was a time when the thought of creating new units made my stomach churn, but now… it feels almost second nature. I’ve gone from, “I refuse to create more than three workers!” to “Not enough hands? No problem! I’ll conjure up a few hundred more right away!” It’s not all bad—expanding so quickly has allowed us to thrive. But it’s becoming harder to keep everyone alive. If one of my people died under my care… I don’t even want to think about it.

  “No problem! Once the armory and base of operations are rebuilt, the Fighting Club will organize itself better, easing the burden on the Care Club.” A knight chimed in.

  “Um, okay. Take the injured to the infirmary, Hans. Rest up and celebrate a little! It’s been a long time since you last leveled up. Enjoy the taste of victory!” I clapped my hands for Hans, and soon the crowd erupted into applause, all eyes on him.

  “Thank you for your kind words, Queen Mother! I will continue to grow stronger, until I am worthy of being called the shield of the hive!” Hans declared, causing the knights and workers around us to cheer even louder.

  “Hu, hu~ Sure, cutie. Rest up, warm yourself, and eat something hearty.”

  "I’ve heard stupid ideas—horrible ones, too—but this? This takes the cake!” I yelled at Ken, standing across from me inside the [Healer].

  Being inside this small body with functional wings made moving through the cave far easier. Yan had volunteered for this ‘sacred duty,’ but he was busy managing the whisperers and analyzing the endless stream of information they provided. Meanwhile, my [Debaters] had their own thoughts on the matter, arguing that it would boost hive morale if I appointed a ‘chosen one’ to act as my extra body. But I had little patience for such ideas. I cared for no ‘hive morals.’ My people could endure all kinds of hardship—sleeping on sharp rocks, eating whatever scraps they found—and still wear those maddening, unwavering smiles. It was one of the many quirks of living in a hive: we had a legion of loyal followers, and with that, a chain wrapped tightly around my neck. I’d long since grown tired of cataloging the issues with this arrangement.

  So, I decided to take a simple approach: choose bodies as needed. Whenever I wanted to move through the infirmary or attend to some task elsewhere, I simply took control of someone nearby, borrowing their body for a while. It saved endless trouble. While Yan remained the ‘official’ option, this method suited my needs far better. After all, navigating a city full of people who stood barely 30-40 centimeters tall was cumbersome when you towered over 1.50 meters. Borrowing someone’s body made life easier.

  This time, I chose a small [Healer] named Zog, someone who had been helping out. He was currently recovering his mana, so I wouldn’t interfere with his work. He was, surprisingly, quite eager to let me ‘step in.’ And now, I was here because Ken had summoned me after leveling up, eager to discuss his next step in evolution.

  Hans was already deep in the process, in the midst of evolving into a [Shilder Break]. A solid choice, but part of me wished he had chosen [Nest Keeper]. Now, it was Ken’s turn. He had been presented with some rare and unique options—options so tantalizing, I could sense the temptation. But instead of hesitating, instead of asking for guidance, he barged in with the most absurd idea I’d ever heard.

  "Look, I know it sounds stupid and dangerous, but we need to try! There are so many implications! Think about what happened with the artifact in Aurum... or the theories around genetic modification!” Ken argued, his voice both eager and determined.

  “Whatever, Ken,” I snapped, irritation rising. “Do you really want to know what happens when you inject Life Mana into your cocoon during evolutionary metamorphosis? I’ll tell you—mutation. A dangerous one, most likely. The kind that’ll twist your body in ways you can’t predict.”

  Ken’s idea was simple yet reckless: he wanted to purposefully inject high doses of [Life Mana] into his cocoon while it was in the middle of evolving. According to him, this was necessary to ‘verify’ some of the theories floating around in the genetic research group. After Nugget—the golden beetle—was born into the world, everyone began to speculate about the possibility of evolutionary advancements through [Life Mana] injections into developing embryos. Needless to say, I had tossed that theory aside immediately. But the research had continued—though it focused on insects like maggots and flies, creatures with short life cycles. And now, with the hive in flux, those experiments had ceased. The Genetic Engineering Club, a relatively new organization within Aurum, had gone silent, at least temporarily. Until now.

  Ken had always been skeptical of these ‘playing with the lives of babies’ ideas. He fought tooth and nail to get the inner circle to ban such experiments, labeling them nefarious, disgusting, dangerous, and devoid of morality. But the potential in those proposals—hidden behind the promise of progress—was too tempting. After spending time away from the hive, Ken had changed. He’d ventured into other areas, learned more. He saw that genetic engineering wasn’t a future to be feared—it was the future. A chance to create stronger, healthier, more skilled beings. The thought of evolution was exciting to him now, but the near-disastrous accident that had warped several members of the hive only made him more cautious.

  In a desperate attempt to gain a better understanding, Ken had pushed the remaining members of the Genetic Engineering Club to give him a new perspective. Through countless ‘friendly’ conversations, theories began to emerge. They argued that positive anomalies might be developed during evolution if [Mana of Life] were injected into a chrysalis at just the right time.

  But testing that theory on flies and maggots was impossible—we didn’t have access to them anymore. And so, after leveling up, Ken had the brilliant idea of testing the theory on himself, reasoning that the worst that could happen was enduring a few days of body pain.

  "Listen here, you stubborn fool, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to mess with the DNA and cellular structure of living beings?! Do you even grasp what we know about the effects of [life mana] on genetic code, chromosomes, RNA, and DNA? NO FUCK! The damage goes far beyond mere back pain, blindness, or numbness in the nerves! It can cause things like extra limbs, cancer, hideous nodules spreading across the body. Hell, you could end up like some goddamn Cronenberg horror, like in that episode of Rick and Morty!" I said, smacking Ken sharply on the wrist.

  "I know the risks! But during evolution, any 'defect' gets corrected—lost limbs, scars, wounds, even diseases. So it’s highly likely that no matter what negative anomalies are caused by exposure to [Mana of Life], the process of evolution itself will take care of it, leaving only the positive changes behind." Ken argued.

  "Sure, sure. Evolution can bring the dead back to life and turn pigs into kings! Listen here, kid, this is madness, you know that. You’re risking far too much for a ‘maybe.’”

  Ken gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching against his nurse's shirt. “I... I want to do something useful too...” His voice quivered slightly, and the edge of frustration sharpened his words.

  "What—where did you get the idea that you're not useful? You’ve practically raised 80% of this hive while they were nothing but eggs!" I snapped back, trying to keep my temper in check.

  "But now I’m—" Ken’s voice wavered, and he swallowed hard. “Nothing… Just ‘emotional Ken.’ Is it so wrong to care so much about something, to the point it hurts? I just want… to keep them safe. Why can’t you see that? If I don’t yell at them and make them listen, no one listens. And when they don’t listen, they— They get hurt. I don’t want them to get hurt. I’d rather have it hurt me than let them feel pain.” His head hung low, and he struggled to keep the tears at bay.

  "Oh, dear..." I sighed, my heart aching in response. Just when I think I’ve balanced everything, a damn nuclear bomb drops in my backyard. Ken has always been a little…eccentric, overly emotional, but beneath his tough, sarcastic facade lies a heart that cares deeply for everyone around him. I forced him to take a vacation, thinking it would help, but it seems to have done more harm than good. He spent too much time alone with his thoughts, and now, without the distractions of constant action, he's unraveling. It’s like taking away someone’s reason for breathing.

  “Ken, look. I’m sorry if I made you feel unappreciated or ignored. I was just trying to help…” I tried to calm him, but my voice faltered as I spoke. “How about this? I’ll give you back control of the care club, let you focus on something that might ease your mind a little?”

  'Damn, I need to create real psychologists and therapists for this hive. Ken is a walking emotional time bomb. Jzz- This mothering thing is the work of crazy people.'

  But Ken tightened his shirt and wiped his face roughly, his eyes now sharp and determined. The fragile, vulnerable version of him just moments ago faded like smoke in the fire. “Do you want to help me? Then stop telling me what I can or cannot do. Do you understand? I don’t need you or anyone else telling me when it’s best to stop and rest. I need hands, I need new techniques, new skills, new medicines, new workers, new tools, and new ideas! I don’t need vacations! I’m a bee! Vacations are garbage, understand? If no one else has the balls to say it to your face, I will! WE HATE FORCED VACATIONS! Do you have any idea how much stress you put me through?!” His voice was rising with frustration.

  “Look, it’s okay! No need to get offensive, alright?! I’m doing my best here, you know? There’s no ‘How to Be a Perfect Queen’ manual. I do what I believe is best for all of you. If I gave you vacations, it was with good intentions, man! You work like beasts of burden, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Who the hell likes this endless grind?”

  “Huh? Duh? Maybe bees with accelerated metabolisms that need to be in constant motion? I know you think we work like machines, but it’s our lifestyle. Our bodies were literally made to work, and you stop us from working just because you think it’s nice to give us a little break now and then.” Ken sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know what? You’re lazy!” He jabbed a finger into my chest. “Not just lazy, but a coward too! You sit there all day with that ‘you ate and didn’t like it’ face, worrying about a bunch of shit nobody cares about, trying to find solutions to problems no one gives a damn about. And then you force us to listen to the nonsense that spews from your mouth! I love and respect you as a queen, but either hand over the decision-making to someone who knows what they’re doing, or learn to make real decisions!” His voice cracked with intensity.

  “Ugh—now I’m the one who’s going to cry! I’m trying my best, okay? Do you have any idea how hard it is to decide what’s best for all of us? And do you think it’s easy to hand over control to the inner circle? The last time you were in charge, this place turned into the wicked witch’s tower! If I let you do whatever you want, do you really think you’d be better off? With idiotic ideas like Trevis, who wanted to go around fighting beasts without a second thought about losing a few members of the hive? Or Jasper with his genius idea to create bombs in the middle of the tower, or maybe Steve’s million-dollar idea of feeding the larvae a mixture of [Royal Jelly] and [Life Mana].” I said, my frustration bubbling over.

  "Ugh..." He hissed under his breath, clearly conflicted but unwilling to back down.

  "Look, Ken, I admit it... I... I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I’m just... walking in the dark and trying not to lead us off a cliff. But... have some faith in me? I know I’m not the most capable person for this, and I’m still figuring things out. Come on, I’ve never been a queen before, you know? It’s not as easy as just spreading your legs and laying eggs— I mean, it is, but I’m not going to just be some egg factory."

  "... I’m sorry, queen mother. I... I said something stupid to you." Ken mumbled, clearly ashamed.

  "Oh, honey, you didn’t say anything stupid. You just got mad. Honestly, I’m surprised this is the first time you’ve ever gotten mad at me. Every now and then, it’s nice to hear something other than ‘You’re doing great!’" I offered a weary smile, though my mind was racing.

  "Ugh... So... are you going to do it, or not?" Ken's tone became sharp, filled with determination.

  "Ken... it’s too dangerous. I... I don’t know if I’m willing to take those risks."

  "I'm the only one who will suffer any consequences." Ken said stubbornly, his eyes unwavering.

  "Then you’re an idiot for thinking that. Do you really think I’ll just forgive myself if something happens to you? You could even— you could die, you know."

  “Uhm... I know it’s asking too much, and it might seem stupid. But... you don’t discover something new without being willing to take some risks. You took risks when you experimented with that magical device in Aurum. It failed, sure. But we all know it eventually led to the creation of the [Mana Node Heart].”

  His words hung in the air, making me pause. A part of me wanted to shut him down entirely, but another part recognized the truth— that sometimes, discovery only comes after failure.

  "What are you getting at?"

  “Failures are the mother of discovery. If this goes wrong, the hive will learn from that mistake— they can develop a less risky method or even a perfect formula. And I’ve told you before, mother, I’d rather you hurt me than allow them to feel pain.” Ken’s voice had taken on a pleading tone, his desperation clear.

  "Ugh—..." I felt the weight of his words settle heavily on my shoulders. The idea of letting him do something this risky... it seemed idiotic, reckless. But denying it at this point felt cruel— if something happened to him, I’d never forgive myself.

  But Ken was right— if it worked, it could change everything. And if it failed, we'd learn something valuable.

  “…Alright,” I finally said, my voice heavier than I anticipated. “I’ll inject some [lifeblood] into your chrysalis, but if I feel any instability or risk to your life, I’ll stop immediately.”

  Ken’s face lit up in an instant. He jumped forward, wrapping me in a tight hug, his excitement palpable. “Thanks, Mom! I swear I won’t disappoint! I have a strong feeling about this!”

  I let out a weary sigh, squeezing him back gently. "Very good... Have you chosen your next evolution yet?" I said, bringing up the holographic pop-up screen, revealing Ken's possible evolutions.

  "Well, to be honest, these choices are kind of... bad? But I still kind of like the sound of [Amaranthine] and [Nurturer]." Ken admitted, his expression a mix of disappointment and thoughtfulness.

  "Really? I thought [Nursery Guardian] was so unique. But I think I understand you, [Templar] and [Larvae Caretaker] don’t seem quite right for you." I replied, trying to make sense of his hesitation.

  "Jzz. It’s like I’m going to pick [Nursery Guardian] and become a fighter! I’m not good at that kind of thing." Ken sighed, exasperated.

  "I don’t know, it’s a versatile class, right? You can fight and heal." I pointed out.

  "No! That’s a waste of an evolution! Why choose a class that can do two functions when I can pick a class that does something new and unique? You know, there will always be more people evolving in the hive, so we don’t need to worry about being ‘malleable.’ We have the numbers to overcome this ‘jack of all trades’ thing." Ken joked.

  "Meh, maybe you’re right. So what’s it going to be? [Amaranthine] or [Nurturer]? They’re both pretty unique, to be honest. [Amaranthine] is more of a ‘Healer,’ and [Nurturer] is more of a baby caretaker."

  "Hmm... I like the idea of being a [Nurturer], so by choosing this class, I kind of become the official nursery caretaker of the hive, don’t I? But I’ll have to leave the infirmary in Keb’s hands." Ken mused aloud.

  "Look, it’s your choice, dear, but I should warn you— we won’t be having any babies around here anytime soon, until we stabilize everything and—"

  "Yeah, I know. I agree with that. We still need to check the size of the new larvae, build a new nursery, secure a source of [Royal Jelly], and find a climate-controlled place." Ken interrupted thoughtfully.

  "It's up to you to decide what you want, Ken, but don’t dwell on it too much, okay? Any of the classes you choose will be useful to the hive, whether now or in the future." Ken seemed relieved by that. He thought for a few moments before making his decision, selecting an option from the evolution list. The pop-up screen disappeared from my vision.

  "I chose [Nurturer]. I like my job taking care of babies. Don’t tell him, okay, but Keb is a good boy. He was pretty dumb back then and couldn’t adapt to the chaos of the infirmary, but nowadays he’s... satisfactory. The infirmary is in good hands." Ken said, smiling at me.

  "Jzz. Sure, sure. I hope you don’t grow too much." I muttered, hiding a chuckle.

  "Uhwn... Okay... Don’t forget... what you promised me..." Ken murmured, falling into a deep sleep so quickly that I barely had time to support him, careful not to let him fall to the ground.

  "Uhf- Damn! This [Healer]’s little body is so weak! Even Ken is as heavy as a mule." I muttered, struggling to gently place Ken on the ground.