The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis took a moment, crouched silently behind the shattered remnants of a collapsed archway. His breathing steadied, heart beating in perfect synchrony with the gentle pulses of mist energy still whispering quietly beneath his skin. The surreal fusion of strength, stealth, and senses left him both exhilarated and deeply unsettled—a paradoxical mix of empowerment and quiet dread. Each breath brought clarity, sharpening his awareness of every whispering ember, every distant footstep, every muted voice echoing through the ruins. Rodion's calm, clinical voice sliced neatly into Mikhailis's thoughts, instantly pulling his focus back to the mission. He shifted effortlessly, the Riftborne Necrolord's stealth cloak rippling faintly as shadows wrapped tighter around him. The sensation was extraordinary—like stepping into a river of silk that flowed around him, bending darkness to his will, blending seamlessly until he became no more visible than a whisper in the wind. "You're making this too easy, Rodion," he whispered softly, a ghost of amusement tugging at his lips. His voice barely registered above a breath, inaudible to anyone but the AI. Mikhailis stifled a quiet chuckle, eyes narrowing as he watched three masked figures emerge silently from the haze of smoke ahead, their forms cloaked in dark robes marked subtly with silver insignias—the symbol of the Crownless House. They moved swiftly, each step precise, practiced, indicative of rigorous training. He noted their synchronized motions, their eyes carefully scanning every shadow for signs of danger, though completely oblivious to his presence. He inhaled softly, muscles tensing in readiness, the mist surging eagerly within him like a restless serpent craving release. It coiled tightly around his limbs, filling his veins with exhilarating power. His heart rate remained unnaturally steady, a controlled, rhythmic pulse echoing with the energy humming beneath his skin. Rodion's voice was steady but edged with subtle concern. Mikhailis acknowledged the warning silently, exhaling gently to release some of the tension that had coiled tightly within his chest. He flexed his fingers lightly, feeling the dual elemental gauntlets hum softly in response—one hot, one cold, yet balanced perfectly around his wrists. "I'll be careful," he murmured, more to himself than Rodion. Though deep down, he knew careful wasn't a promise he could truly keep. He darted silently around the collapsed archway, shadows embracing him instantly, concealing him completely. The stealth cloak of the Riftborne Necrolord vibrated softly, merging his presence seamlessly into the shadows, cloaking him in near-perfect invisibility. A thrill surged sharply through his chest as he slipped past the patrol unnoticed, feeling a quiet satisfaction at the ease with which he evaded their gaze. He emerged cautiously onto a wide street now littered with debris. Once bustling market stalls lay broken and charred, remnants of what had once been vibrant and lively reduced to mere shadows and ash. Mikhailis's gaze swept swiftly across the devastation, his heart twisting slightly in guilt once again. Rodion advised, voice even but edged with a quiet urgency. "Naturally," Mikhailis muttered darkly, creeping forward silently, footsteps noiseless against the dusty stone beneath him. "It's never easy, is it?" A bitter smile tugged briefly at his lips as he pressed deeper into enemy territory. His gaze flickered quickly from side to side, senses heightened impossibly by the mist's influence. He felt hypersensitive, aware of every distant heartbeat, every whisper of cloth against stone, every subtle movement in the shadowy ruins around him. Above him, chimera ant soldiers moved silently along rooftops, invisible sentinels coordinating seamlessly with Rodion's instructions. Their dark carapaces melted effortlessly into the night, their multi-faceted eyes scanning meticulously for threats. Mikhailis sensed their presence keenly, connected through Rodion's intricate network—a reassuring web of silent protectors woven throughout the darkness. Mikhailis halted immediately, melting into shadows effortlessly with the aid of the Necrolord's stealth cloak. His breath stilled momentarily as he waited, heart steady but his nerves taut, anticipation building like a coiled spring ready to snap at the slightest provocation. His glasses flickered again, a holographic projection unfolding vividly in front of him. A detailed 3D map of the underground chambers beneath the Merchant Council Hall materialized, pulsing faintly with strategic data points. Chimera Ant Workers, depicted as tiny green dots, scuttled silently through hidden tunnels, their movements precise, swift, and synchronized perfectly under Rodion's guidance.