My Bee System

Waking up as a bee is one thing.

Working as a bee? That's where the real nightmare begins.

After crashing into the ceiling of my cell and getting over the horror of my new face, I was promptly herded into a chamber with dozens—no, hundreds—of buzzing, twitching, hyper-organized bees.

Apparently, I have a job now.

"Worker Bee B-271," a sharp, high-pitched voice buzzed near my antennae. "Follow the nectar line to your assignment post."

I stared. "Are you seriously calling me B-271?"

No answer. Just more buzzing.

If you're wondering how the hell these bees communicate, I have no idea. Even I can somehow understand them. Maybe I'm in a fantasy world? Actually, considering the goddess who dropped me into this bug's life, that checks out.

The hive was structured like a corporate nightmare. Cleaning drones scrubbed cells. Feeding bees lugged around golden goop. Guards with sharpened stingers patrolled the brood comb like steroid-pumped security officers.

My first task?

Clean up larval excretions.

Yes. Poop.

Bee poop.

And that's when I knew: I was in hell. It's like the goddess summoned me here just to suffer. Some divine punishment for sins I don't even remember committing.

The system chimed in while I worked.

[Hive Structure Overview]

Queen Bee – Supreme authority. Fertile. Controls hive behavior through pheromones.

Elite Drones – High-ranking males. Messengers and enforcers.

Worker Bees – Genderless laborers. Tiered based on age and loyalty.

Brood Nurses – Feed larvae and monitor hatchlings.

Guard Bees – Defenders of hive entrances and royal chambers.

Oh, and me?

Worker Class Omega. Translation: bottom of the barrel.

Something hit me—or maybe I hit it—as I was checking the Hive Structure Overview.

"Watch it, rookie! You trying to flatten both of us before the Queen gets the chance?"

I blinked (or… whatever bees do when confused). In front of me stood a slightly larger bee, one wing lopsided, eyes way too expressive.

"Who… are you?" I thought cautiously. Still not used to this mind-talk thing.

"Noba. Worker Bee B-122. Tier Delta. Current task: spoon-feeding sugar-snot to entitled larval brats. And you must be the new one everyone's buzzing about."

"…You heard of me?"

"Pfft. You buzzed like a cracked-wing drone outta your cell. Whole floor felt it. Welcome to Brood Block C—where dreams go to molt and die."

She offered a stubby leg like a handshake.

"Kidding. Mostly."

I didn't take it. Mostly because I didn't have arms.

"…You mentioned tiers?"

"Ahhh, nectar-brained newbies. Don't they teach you anything in cocoon school anymore?"

She flared her good wing and gestured dramatically at the hive.

"Tier Omega—where you're at. You get the dirty jobs. Scrub wax, clean larva puke, and eat whatever's left in the communal pot. Most of you don't survive the week."

"Tier Delta, like me? We get promoted if we're obedient and quiet. We feed the larvae. Slightly better food. Still tastes like recycled feet, but hey—less mold."

She leaned in closer and whispered.

"Now, Tier Sigma? Foragers. Brave idiots who leave the hive to gather nectar. Half don't come back. The other half return acting like they've tasted heaven."

I tilted my head.

"Tier Psi are guards. Don't look at them funny. They'll sting first, ask questions never. Think security drones with kill orders."

I glanced nervously at one of them nearby. Definitely not making eye contact.

"And Tier Lambda? Royal Attendants. They feed the Queen, polish her throne, rub wax on her royal—well, you get the idea. They get a drop of royal jelly every moon. Not enough to evolve, but enough to fry their minds. Most forget their names. Some even forget their jobs."

I blinked. "And if someone doesn't want to follow this… system?"

Noba paused. Her buzzing didn't change, but something in her tone did.

"They don't last long."

She turned away, dragging a pouch of jelly toward a nearby chamber. Just before she disappeared into the gloom, she said:

"Survive your week, B-271. Then maybe we'll talk about dreaming."

Curious about my current stats, I summoned the system display.

[Status]

Past Name: Shizuka Amamiya (can be hidden if host desires)

Current Name: Mitsuki (assigned by the Goddess Melissara)

Race: Worker Bee

Stage: F+ Omega Tier

Level: 0

Attributes:

Vitality: 5

Strength: 2

Agility: 3

Endurance: 4

Perception: 3

Mana: 6

Intellect: 7

Luck: 15

Attribute Points: 0

Skills:

[Devour] (Unique) – Consume biomass to absorb traits, abilities, or evolutionary potential. May trigger mutations or unlock hidden evolution paths.

[Heat/Cold Resistance] (Passive) – Temperature extremes are less harmful to your body.

[Anti-Fatigue] (Passive) – Reduces fatigue buildup. Increases mental clarity.

[Pain Resistance] (Passive) – Pain is dulled. Screaming optional.

Hidden Attributes: LOCKED

Titles: LOCKED

The Luck stat again? You call this lucky? I'm cleaning bee poop. Disappointed in you, System.

While scrubbing wax near the larval chambers, I overheard two workers whispering:

"She's replacing them again…"

"Five nurses gone this week."

"No bodies left behind. Not even the wings."

Replacing?

Who?

"Quiet," one of them hissed. "The Queen's herald is coming."

Sure enough, a massive drone with thick antennae buzzed past, flanked by two guards. He didn't even glance at us, but the others froze until he passed.

System, mental note: do not piss off tall, shiny drones.

Later that day, while restocking nectar near the sealed cocoons, I found a cracked cell. That alone was weird—no one was due to emerge yet.

Inside, something twitched.

It wasn't alive. Or at least, not fully. A malformed larva, half-dissolved, oozing blackish honey from its shell.

I stared at it. I should've called for help. But something primal—or divine—whispered inside my head.

[Devour Prompt: Activate on Target?]

Biomass Detected: Corrupted Larva

Potential Rewards:

Mutation Chance (Low)

Mana Recovery

Hidden Trait Fragment (Unknown)

Was I really about to do this?

"…Yeah. Why not. I haven't eaten, after all."

As I activated [Devour], my mandibles tore into the larva's flesh. I felt sick—like I was about to vomit excrement—but then, a jolt of energy surged through me. My body felt warm, almost supercharged.

[Devour Successful.]

Minor stat gain: +1 Mana

Skill Acquired: Taint Resistance I [Passive]

[Devour skill proficiency increased.]

Taint Resistance? Was that thing infected?

I wiped my mouth—still disgusted—and backed away just as another worker arrived with a nectar pod. I pretended nothing happened. Bee-poker face: activated.

Why did that feel like I just downed a shot of liquid steroids? Maybe it was the rush of energy, or power crawling through my tiny bee… veins? Bee-ins? Ahem. Anyway.

Why didn't I level up though? Maybe I need to murder someone. Classic RPG logic. (Wow, I sound like a villain.)

I'll need to test this more. Carefully.

As I returned to the lower chambers, a voice echoed from the shadows.

"You there. Worker B-271."

I froze.

A tall elite drone emerged from a dark corridor. His wings were silent, his eyes glowing with faint golden light.

"Her Majesty requests your presence."

And just like that, the hive grew colder.