The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis exhaled deeply, stretching his arms above his head as he sank into the surprisingly comfortable chair in his private room. The wooden frame creaked slightly under his weight, the scent of aged wood and faint incense lingering in the air. The inn wasn't lavish, but it was leagues better than sleeping in the ruins of a devastated village or out in the open wilderness with only the stars and his Chimera Ant soldiers as company.

He rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension that had built up over the past few days. Travel had been grueling, and though Serewyn offered a brief respite, he knew better than to let his guard down. He reached toward the small table beside him, grabbing a wooden goblet of lukewarm ale and taking a sip. It wasn't the best, but it was far from the worst he'd had on this journey.

He let out a lazy chuckle, glancing toward the dim glow of his arcane communicator. "Guess we got caught. That was a very improvised but great plan executed there."

<Rather than 'improvised,' the appropriate term would be 'risky and recklessly audacious,' though admittedly effective.>

Mikhailis smirked, tapping his fingers against the desk. Rodion always had a way with words.

"Come on, give me some credit. Hypnotizing the Radiant Order's forces and letting them implode from the inside? That's some high-level villain play."

<Credit where it is due, the strategy was efficient. Their command structure is currently in chaos, with high-ranking officers either executed or under suspicion of treason. The internal power struggle will persist for weeks, if not months.>

Mikhailis leaned back, resting his chin on his palm, watching the dim flickering of the arcane communicator.

"And we crossed into enemy territory without even needing to draw our swords. It's beautiful."

<It is fortunate your enemies are susceptible to manipulation. That said, we should discuss Hypnoveil's recent... evolution.>

Mikhailis raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly. "Yeah, that was unexpected. Didn't think he'd evolve without a rank increase."

<Correct. Hypnoveil's transformation appears to be an adaptation rather than an ascension. The plant-like structure on its back has developed a new feature—parasitic branch worms.>

Mikhailis blinked, sitting up straighter.

"Parasitic... worms?"

<Indeed. The branches occasionally shed small, worm-like organisms. These creatures infiltrate a target's mouth, burrowing into their nervous system and inducing a state of complete hypnosis. Unlike Hypnoveil's direct influence, which requires proximity, these parasites can spread autonomously.>

Mikhailis let out a slow whistle, running a hand through his hair.

"So, you're saying we've accidentally created a biological warfare tool?"

<That would be one way to phrase it. A more accurate assessment: you have developed a weapon capable of triggering mass hypnosis through biological transmission. The potential applications—and risks—are considerable.>

Mikhailis drummed his fingers against the desk, mulling it over. He'd seen the effects firsthand. When Hypnoveil's influence first took hold, it worked like a charm—subtle manipulations, minor alterations in decision-making, a gentle push here and there. The officers of the Radiant Order had unknowingly turned against one another, their paranoia festering like an untreated wound.

But this... this was different.

A weapon that could spread beyond his direct control was both fascinating and dangerous. He could already see the scenarios—covert infiltrations, turning enemy generals against their own men, entire battlefields collapsing before a single sword was drawn. But he could also see the other side of it. What if it spread too far? What if an enemy captured one of the infected and found a way to reverse-engineer the process?

Mikhailis leaned back, tapping his fingers against the wooden table. The room was dimly lit, the single lantern casting long shadows along the wooden walls of his rented inn chamber. Outside, the muffled sounds of Serewyn's bustling streets filtered through the shutters, distant voices rising and falling in a symphony of negotiations, gossip, and quiet desperation.

He clicked his tongue. "Rodion, break down the efficiency rate. How quickly does it spread?"

A brief silence, then Rodion's voice, crisp and calculated, echoed in his mind.

<Preliminary analysis suggests the parasitic worms can survive outside of Hypnoveil for approximately forty-eight hours. They remain dormant until encountering a viable host. Upon entering the host's system, the hypnosis takes effect within three to five minutes, depending on the individual's resistance. Once the target is fully hypnotized, they unconsciously seek out others, unknowingly transmitting the parasite through proximity and physical interaction—most commonly speech or shared meals.>

Mikhailis's fingers paused mid-tap. He narrowed his eyes, the implications clicking into place like the final pieces of a puzzle.

That explains how the command chain broke down so fast. Even if they suspected infiltration, it was already too late.

"Just as I thought," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "It's a controlled outbreak rather than a random infection. If they weren't already paranoid, they are now."

Rodion continued, his tone unwavering. <Affirmative. The pattern observed in the enemy ranks suggests cascading disruptions in decision-making. Initial subjects displayed heightened aggression and irrational behavior, often targeting their own comrades due to subtle perception warping. This led to discord among the ranks before full submission occurred.>

Mikhailis chuckled. "Beautiful. A mutiny without us lifting a finger." He reclined further, exhaling through his nose. "So you're telling me if we drop one of these things into an enemy officer's drink, we could turn an entire fortress within a few days?"

<Theoretically, yes. Given a controlled environment with close-quarters interactions, the spread would be exponential. However, unlike conventional diseases, these parasites do not reproduce independently. They are limited to the initial shedding process from Hypnoveil itself.>

Mikhailis tapped the edge of his chair. That was both a strength and a weakness. No chance of things spiraling into an uncontrollable epidemic, but it also meant they had a finite supply to work with.

"How many does Hypnoveil produce per day?" he asked.

<On average, five parasitic worms are generated within a twenty-four-hour cycle under optimal conditions. This number may fluctuate depending on environmental factors and the host's stability.>

Mikhailis nodded slowly.@@novelbin@@

Limited, but still dangerous. Five per day means thirty-five in a week. A full fortress could still be flipped within days if we time it right.

"So, no zombie apocalypse scenario." He sighed in relief, though a small part of him had almost wanted to see what that would look like. "But that also means we have a supply limitation. If Hypnoveil only produces a limited number, we can't just go around dropping these things everywhere."

<Correct. The production rate is relatively low, averaging five parasites per day under optimal conditions. While effective in targeted operations, it is not suited for large-scale warfare.>

"Good," Mikhailis murmured, rubbing his jaw. "I prefer precision over chaos anyway. But tell me this—how does the hypnosis function over time? Can someone break free naturally?"

Rodion paused for a fraction of a second before responding, a slight flicker in Mikhailis' vision indicating its deeper processing.

<If the host is weak-minded, the hypnosis remains indefinitely. Stronger individuals may resist over time, though prolonged exposure could erode even formidable wills. The exact timeline varies depending on mental fortitude, external interference, and—importantly—the presence of conflicting influences such as other mental conditioning or magical resistance.>

Mikhailis exhaled, rubbing his temple. "That... could be dangerous. If we're not careful, we might start a plague."

<Precisely. Unlike the standard Hypnoveil's control, which required direct presence or proximity for its influence to persist, the parasitic worms function independently once inside a host. Their hypnotic effect is sustained through a slow secretion of a neuroinhibitor, which suppresses critical thinking and induces a state of heightened suggestibility.>

Mikhailis's fingers drummed against the table. "So you're saying the longer they're under, the more they lose their ability to fight back?"

<Correct. A host that has been exposed for over 72 hours will begin experiencing mild cognitive impairment—disorientation, memory lapses, difficulty distinguishing personal thoughts from implanted suggestions. Past 96 hours, complete assimilation becomes probable.>

Mikhailis narrowed his eyes. "And past that?"

<A permanent restructuring of neural pathways occurs. In simpler terms, the host ceases to be an independent entity and becomes an extension of the implanted influence.>

His fingers stopped drumming. A dangerous silence settled in the room as the weight of Rodion's words sank in.

He had watched the entire infiltration unfold through the Chimera Ant soldier's vision—seen how the subtle escalations played out, how a single implanted suggestion turned into whispers of paranoia, and whispers turned into action. Officers who had once commanded with certainty were now second-guessing their own decisions, tension spreading like wildfire.

And it had worked. Too well.

Mikhailis wasn't foolish enough to believe absolute control was a good thing. Chaos was messy, unpredictable—but total domination was just as dangerous in its own way.

"We're not dealing with simple mind control anymore," he muttered, leaning forward, lacing his fingers together. "This is rewriting people from the inside out."

<Indeed. And should an uncontrolled outbreak occur, extermination protocols would be the only solution.>

Mikhailis ran a hand through his hair, contemplating. The thought of an entire army turned into drones acting under his influence should have felt like a tactical jackpot, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth. That wasn't how he worked. He didn't need puppets—he needed people who could think, act, and adapt.

"Noted," he muttered. "We'll use it selectively. No point in conquering a land of mindless zombies."

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<An efficient perspective. This method of control is effective, but it cannot replace true leadership. You rely on adaptability and wit to maneuver situations—not a horde of hypnotized subordinates.>

Mikhailis chuckled. "Oh? Is that a compliment?"

<A statement of fact.>