The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis tightened his grip around the cloaked intruder, staring at the figure's emotionless face. He had questions, but there wasn't much time to extract any answers, especially with the others still on the run. He needed to act quickly. He let out a slow breath, his lips curling into a small, determined smile. The night's air was cold, and every second that passed was precious. He could feel the tension in his muscles, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through his veins. This was no time for hesitation—he had a mission to complete.

"Alright, Rodion, it's time for some real hunting," he whispered into the night, his voice barely audible above the rustling of leaves. The forest was alive with subtle sounds—the wind weaving through branches, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. But amidst all of that, Mikhailis could sense the urgency, the need to act now. There was no telling what kind of information the fleeing individuals carried or what kind of threat they still posed.

"I want thirty Chimera Ant Soldiers to pursue those guys. Don't let them get too far—I'm interested in whatever information they might be carrying."

<Understood, dispatching Chimera Ant Soldiers immediately. Tracking has commenced. Pursuit is underway.>

Mikhailis nodded, feeling the ground begin to vibrate as the Ant Soldiers moved beneath the earth. Their movements were precise, efficient, perfectly coordinated as they followed the fleeing individuals. The intruder in his grasp, meanwhile, stared blankly at him, as if unaware of its surroundings. It was unnerving—like holding onto a mannequin rather than a living, breathing person. There was no resistance, no reaction—just emptiness.

"And you," Mikhailis said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the captured figure. He could see no signs of awareness—no glimmer of fear or comprehension. It was almost as if the figure was devoid of a soul.

"You're coming with me. Rodion, have some of the Worker Ants bring this one back to base. We'll want to take a good look at what makes them tick."

The earth shifted, and moments later, several Worker Ants emerged from the soil, their massive jaws clicking as they surrounded Mikhailis and the intruder. They moved efficiently, taking hold of the figure without so much as a sound. The intruder remained passive, its body limp as the Worker Ants lifted it, carrying it away toward the depths of the forest. The sight was both eerie and mesmerizing—watching these creatures, born from his power, operate with such precision.

Mikhailis watched them disappear, his mind already turning over possible scenarios. Rodion's assessment had been clear: there was something off about these cloaked figures. They were human in shape, but everything else—the rigidity of their movements, the glowing eyes, the lack of response—suggested something artificial. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were dealing with something far more sinister than mere foot soldiers.

<Subject appears to have undergone significant modification. Analysis suggests the use of advanced enchantments combined with curse magic, likely intended to suppress individual will and enhance obedience. Signs of external manipulation are consistent with forced servitude or puppeteering.>

"Hmm…" Mikhailis hummed, his gaze lingering on the direction the Worker Ants had taken the intruder. His thoughts raced, considering the implications. If these figures were indeed being controlled, it meant that whoever was behind them had access to some serious magical prowess.

"So, some kind of puppet, then. Maybe an artificial soldier?"

<Correct. Probability of origin being Technomancer League: eighty-nine percent. The combination of curse magic and artificial enhancements is a known method of their operatives.>

"Figures," Mikhailis muttered. The Technomancer League had always been a thorn in Silvarion Thalor's side—their disregard for the rules of magic, their twisted experiments… it made sense these things might be their doing. They were notorious for blending magic and technology in ways that defied natural law, often at the expense of innocent lives.

He clenched his jaw, a flicker of frustration running through him. The League's activities were not only dangerous but also a blatant disregard for the sanctity of magic. Mikhailis gave a final nod, the determination hardening in his eyes.

"Alright, collect all the data you can from this one. I'm curious to see what we're dealing with. If they've made any advancements, I want to know."

<Affirmative. I will conduct a full analysis once the subject is secure.>

Mikhailis exhaled slowly, the adrenaline from the chase starting to wear off. His muscles, which had been taut with anticipation, slowly began to relax. He shifted his focus, closing his eyes briefly. He needed to get back to his body. It was time to leave the Skullborne Ravager's form behind. The connection had been exhilarating, but there was only so much he could do before exhaustion set in.

But just as he was about to release control, his senses picked up something—an unfamiliar scent carried by the wind. He frowned, his enhanced senses going into high alert. The smell was strange, almost floral, but mixed with something metallic, like blood. It was subtle, barely there, but enough to pique his interest.

He turned his head, his keen ears picking up a faint sound—a soft rustling, followed by a hushed murmur. Mikhailis moved silently, his body almost instinctively drawn to the noise. As he approached, the sound grew clearer—the unmistakable voice of Vyrelda. His curiosity piqued, and he couldn't help but move closer, his steps careful, each one placed with deliberate silence.

Through the thick brush, he could see her—standing with her back to him, her posture tense. She was relieving herself, unaware of his presence. Mikhailis immediately felt an awkward sense of intrusion, about to turn away when he caught her whispering something. He paused, his ears straining to catch her words.

"Mr. Goblin…" Vyrelda's voice was barely audible, her tone wistful, almost dreamy.

Mikhailis blinked, his eyes widening slightly. Mr. Goblin? he thought, his confusion evident. What in the world… The idea of Vyrelda—fierce, disciplined Vyrelda—uttering such a thing was almost comical. He fought the urge to chuckle, his lips twitching upwards.

But this wasn't the time to pry into Vyrelda's private musings. He shook his head, realizing that whatever Vyrelda was on about, it was none of his business—at least not right now. He turned away, his expression returning to one of focus. He had more important things to deal with.

With that thought, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and allowed himself to detach from the Skullborne Ravager's body. The shift was immediate—a strange, weightless sensation, like drifting through an abyss before his consciousness found its way back to his human form. It was like being pulled through space, the sensations changing from raw power and heightened senses to something softer, more vulnerable.

The world around him changed—the forest and the scent of soil gave way to the warmth of his tent, the soft confines of his sleeping bag cradling him. Mikhailis let out a soft sigh, feeling the comforting weight of his own body once more. He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling of the tent as he adjusted to his surroundings. The transition always left him feeling slightly disoriented, but it was something he had grown used to over time.

<Successful return. All systems are functioning within normal parameters, Mikhailis.>

Rodion's voice echoed through the glasses resting on his face, the AI's presence familiar, grounding him in the reality of his human form. There was something about hearing Rodion's monotone voice that always managed to bring him back, centering him after the thrill of controlling another being.

"Thanks, Rodion," Mikhailis whispered, stretching his limbs slightly. He could feel the stiffness in his muscles, the tension slowly ebbing away. He let out a contented sigh, a small smile tugging at his lips. The experience had been exhilarating—the power of the Skullborne Ravager, the chase, the thrill of capturing the intruder. Everything had gone according to plan, and that filled him with a sense of satisfaction that he rarely experienced.

He closed his eyes briefly, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. It had been a long night, but the sense of accomplishment made it worth it. He'd accomplished what he set out to do, and the success of the experiment left him eager for more. There was so much more to explore, so many more possibilities to push the boundaries of what he could achieve.

He shifted in his sleeping bag, making himself comfortable, the soft material cocooning him as he settled in. His breathing slowed, his body beginning to relax. He was ready to let sleep take him, ready to rest and recharge for whatever came next.

But just as he was drifting off, he heard something—the faint rustle of fabric, the sound of the tent flap being pushed aside. Mikhailis kept his eyes closed, his breathing even, a small smile forming on his lips. He recognized that sound, and it brought a sense of warmth to his chest.

He knew that sound. He'd heard it many times before—the quiet, careful steps of someone trying not to wake him. It could only be Lira. She had a habit of sneaking into his bed when the night got too cold or when she sought the comfort of his warmth. It was something he'd grown used to, something he secretly looked forward to.

Mikhailis decided to play along, keeping his eyes shut, waiting as the soft footsteps approached. The figure moved closer, their presence palpable as they stood beside his bed. He could almost feel the hesitation in the air, the slight pause before they made their move. Without opening his eyes, Mikhailis reached out, his arm wrapping around the figure's waist, pulling them into his bed.

The figure didn't resist, instead settling against him, their body fitting comfortably into his embrace. Mikhailis let out a soft sigh, his arm tightening around them, his face pressing against their hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling their scent, a feeling of warmth washing over him.

But something was different.

The scent was unfamiliar—lacking the soft, floral notes he associated with Lira. Instead, it was more earthy, a hint of something he couldn't quite place. There was a rawness to it, something that didn't align with what he knew. Mikhailis's brow furrowed slightly, his mind working through the haze of exhaustion.

Maybe she used something different? he thought, trying to rationalize it. We are undercover, after all…

He shifted slightly, his hand brushing against the figure's back, his fingers tracing the curve of their spine. The figure let out a soft gasp, a sound that sent a shiver down Mikhailis's spine.

Good, she is feeling it.