The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

<Shall I deploy the Chimera Ants? This battle could be resolved in an estimated 37.2 seconds with appropriate intervention.>

He grit his teeth. Not now. In the swirl of combat, he couldn't risk anyone else seeing an army of monstrous hybrids suddenly appear at his beck and call. It would raise too many questions—questions he couldn't answer here.

<Understood. Continuing observation.>

Mikhailis rolled his eyes inwardly, adjusting his stance. Instead of calling on his hidden assets, he focused on the swirling mist around his feet. If the Technomancers' runes were designed to disrupt or contain mist, maybe he could still outmaneuver them physically.

He darted behind a fallen column, heart pounding. He could hear Lira's swift footsteps and Rhea's fierce growls, along with the clang of Cerys's sword as she deflected blow after blow. The corridor was alive with the clash of weapons and the sharp hum of arcane energy. Vyrelda's cold presence flickered in and out of view, each reappearance marked by a fallen enemy.

Then it happened—a second pulse.

This time it was bigger, shaking the entire chamber like a minor quake. Stones above rattled, dislodging dust and larger chunks of debris. Mikhailis glanced upward and saw cracks forming along the ceiling arch. A trickle of pebbles and sand rained down.

"Everyone, watch out!" he shouted. But his voice was nearly drowned out by the roar of breaking stone.

The nearest Technomancers seemed momentarily off balance. Lira seized the chance, slicing through the arm guard of one enforcer, forcing him to drop his rifle with a clatter. A flash of triumph crossed her face, but it vanished when she realized the chamber itself was turning into their worst enemy.

Mikhailis dashed over the rubble, trying to reach Rhea and Lira. If the ceiling came down completely, they'd be crushed. Another tremor rocked the ground, and he lost his footing, landing hard on one knee. Pain shot up his leg. He grit his teeth and pushed himself upright.@@novelbin@@

"Cerys! Vyrelda! Get clear!" he yelled, but he couldn't see them through the haze of dust and swirling debris. The low rumble of shifting rock grew louder, accompanied by rumbles from the runes overhead that blazed with frantic light, as if reacting to the conflict.

A bright flash caught the corner of his vision—a final bolt from a Technomancer's rifle. He swerved, the energy slicing past his shoulder, leaving a stinging burn. It tore into the far wall, where fresh cracks bloomed like spiderwebs.

"Shit—"

A cascade of rubble fell from above, huge chunks of stone colliding with the floor. One piece smashed the path behind Mikhailis, sending up a plume of dust. He coughed, eyes stinging, but pushed forward. He spotted Lira and Rhea through the shifting cloud, both of them panting, hair streaked with powdered rock. They looked unharmed—for the moment.

Just as he opened his mouth to call out, the ground quaked violently, and a fissure split the floor. Mikhailis felt the stones beneath his feet sag. That was when he realized he was standing on a section that had partially caved in. Before he could move, the world lurched.

A crack tore across the ground between him and Lira, and in a heartbeat, part of the chamber's floor crumbled away completely. He reached out, trying to grab hold of something—anything—to stop his descent, but the force of the collapse was too strong. He saw Lira stagger, her eyes wide with shock, and Rhea lunging forward to catch her hand.

Dust filled his lungs, choking him, and the roar of the catacombs caving in pounded in his ears like thunder. Stones crashed and rolled, smashing into one another as the floor caved in deeper, swallowing them. Mikhailis felt a jolt of sheer panic, arms flailing in midair. A swirl of dust blinded him, making him cough so hard his chest hurt.

In the final glimpse before the darkness claimed him, he saw Lira and Rhea both stumbling, their faces etched with alarm as they toppled with him into the depths. He heard the faint clang of metal—a piece of debris, or maybe one of their weapons. Everything happened so fast that he couldn't even warn them.

No, no, no—

The sensation of falling gripped his stomach, like being on a runaway carriage with no driver. Dust and rocks battered his arms and shoulders, bruising him even through his coat. There was no time to think, only the reflex to brace for impact. The entire world seemed to flip upside down. Your next journey awaits at My Virtual Library Empire

A heartbeat later, he glimpsed a sliver of the ruined chamber overhead, a swirling mass of dust and flickering green runes. Then the floor above became a jagged hole. For a split second, he locked eyes with Lira. She looked terrified but determined, like she was trying to angle her body to protect Rhea. He felt a pang in his chest—he wanted to reach them, to keep them safe.

But there was nothing to grab. Nothing to hold onto. The light from the catacombs' ceiling receded, leaving them in a swirl of shadow. A final tremor rattled the crumbling walls, sending another shower of rubble after them.

In that moment, all he could do was curse their luck. Great, so much for a quiet exploration. The panic soared in his thoughts, but he tried to mask it even from himself. Falling through a pit wasn't on his to-do list today, but he guessed it was too late to complain.

The ground rushed up. He braced for the worst.

And that was when everything seemed to slow, as if the air had turned to molasses. A single, sharp thought flared in his mind: Rodion, you better not say "I told you so."

Then, with a bone-shaking crash, he collided with something—and the world spun in a haze of pain and choking dust.

The last thing he registered was Rhea's choked gasp and Lira's desperate cry. After that, darkness rushed in on all sides, a suffocating veil that blocked out sound, sight, and sense.

Somewhere far above, the catacombs groaned, as if expressing their ancient disapproval.

The world tilted, and Mikhailis barely had time to see Lira and Rhea before the ground swallowed them whole.

_____

Darkness. Silence.

Mikhailis groaned as he pushed himself up, every muscle protesting after the harsh landing. Fine debris coated his hair and clothes, making him cough as he tried to catch his breath. His lungs burned from inhaling dust, and each ragged inhalation only served to remind him of how quickly everything had gone wrong.

When he lifted his gaze, he saw Lira and Rhea sprawled nearby, both of them stirring amidst scattered rubble. Broken stones and bits of carved pillar lay all around, their sharp edges catching the faint light that filtered down from somewhere above. A musty scent of ancient soil and damp rock filled the air, as if they had fallen into a sealed-off chamber that hadn't seen visitors in centuries.

Lira let out a small cough and struggled to her feet, brushing clumps of dust off her arms. There was a thin scrape along her cheek, but otherwise, she appeared unharmed. Her eyes, normally so calm, flickered with equal parts frustration and relief.

She leaned over Mikhailis, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "You alright?"

He rolled his shoulder with a wince. "Define 'alright.'" A weary laugh escaped him. "I mean, I didn't die, so that's a win."

Lira exhaled, half-exasperated. She pressed her lips together in a tight line. "Don't joke right now."

"Then when?" he retorted, forcing a grin he didn't quite feel. Even so, the banter helped push away some of the lingering terror from their fall.

Before Lira could scold him again, a soft shuffle from behind drew their attention. Rhea was on her knees, fingers raking through the debris, probably searching for her weapon. She found it—a short sword with a chipped blade—then stood and shook the dust from her hair.

She caught them looking and jerked her head toward the darkness ahead. "We're not alone," she said, voice low.

In the dim glow of the catacombs, they saw a massive stone door looming in front of them. It was unlike the simpler carvings they'd passed before. This door bore elaborate symbols, each one etched with uncanny precision. They pulsed with a strange, rhythmic glow—brightening, then dimming, as though they had a heartbeat of their own. Ancient runes snaked across the surface, weaving into intricate patterns that seemed to drift in and out of focus.

Mikhailis got to his feet and took a tentative step closer. He sensed the air grow thicker, pressing against his skin as if the very atmosphere wanted to slow him down. And the mist responded—like it recognized him. Tendrils of gray vapor curled around his feet and ankles, coiling with a sort of cautious curiosity.

The moment he approached the door, a jolt of pain streaked through his head. With a strangled grunt, he staggered backward, nearly losing his balance. Flashes of images hammered into his mind, too rapid and disjointed to fully grasp. He saw glimpses of an enormous city from a time long past, its people chanting in unison around a blazing circle of runes. He saw a towering silhouette wrapped in swirling mist, arms raised as if in command.

Then there was a voice—not quite audible, more like a sensation. Urgent. Insistent.

He pressed his palm to his temple. What… what is this?

"Your Highness?" Lira's voice cut through his mental fog.

He barely registered her words, consumed by the wave of impressions washing over him. A knot formed in his chest, a mingling of dread and awe, as if some locked part of his own mind had been thrown open. A memory that wasn't his. Or maybe it was—he didn't know anymore.

At the edges of his awareness, Rhea stood guard, her stance alert. She glanced between the door and Mikhailis, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She looked ready to drag him away if things got any worse.

Nevertheless, he couldn't stop himself. His fingers twitched, drawn to the engravings on that massive stone door. The moment his skin brushed the carved surface, the whispers that had haunted him all day roared to life.

"Return."

"The throne must be reclaimed."

"The Sovereign Catalyst must awaken."

A thousand distant murmurs merged into a single directive, echoing in the hollow of his skull. His knees threatened to buckle, and he dimly felt Lira's grip on his elbow, trying to steady him.

"Mikhailis," she whispered, concern etched across her face. "Talk to me."