[The Queen's Chamber]
The room was different from the others. An organic chamber, alive,
pulsing to the rhythm of a gigantic heart buried somewhere in the
depths. The walls were no longer stone but a translucent, soft
substance that glowed faintly, like flesh lit from within. The air
was thick, hot, humid. It smelled of blood and life.
In the center, the Queen. Fifteen meters long. Perhaps more. Hard
to tell, as her body seemed to melt into the room itself. Her
carapace was white, almost transparent, like living glass polished by
centuries of subterranean existence.
Through this carapace, Vincent could see her organs pulsing. A
massive heart, black and red, beating with a hypnotic regularity.
Veins as thick as a man's arms running along her body. Membranous
sacs filled with fluids whose nature he did not want to know. She did
not move. She was coiled around something: her eggs.
About twenty of them, arranged in a protective circle in the
center of the room. Each the size of a huddled man, shining with a
soft, maternal light. Through the translucent membranes, Vincent saw
shapes moving. Embryos. Living. Almost ready to hatch. The Queen did
not attack them. She did not move. She remained coiled around her
children, motionless, patient, protective.
Emet prepared to charge, muscles tense, fists clenched. His skin
was already cadaverous gray, his eyes already milky white.
— Let's go. We wreck her and we bail.
— Wait, said Nova, brows furrowed.
She raised a hand to stop him.
— Her behavior is weird. An elite boss shouldn't just... huddle
over its eggs. It makes no sense. Tactically, I mean.
Vincent said nothing. He couldn't. He was totally fixed on a
sound. The Queen's heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. Regular as a living
clock. Soothing in its constancy. Hypnotic. And with the sound, a
voice. Felt inside his skull. Soft. Tired. Desperate.
Vincent blinked.
— I think we shou— Vincent began, turning his head toward the
others.
But Emet had already launched his taunt.
— COME HERE, YOU BIG H*E! SHOW ME IF YOU'VE GOT BALLS!
The Queen winced. Her segments shifted slightly, but she did not
move. She remained coiled around her eggs. Nova didn't wait. She
disappeared into smoke. She erupted onto the Queen's exposed flank,
her rapier piercing the translucent carapace. The blade sank deep,
bursting veins beneath the surface. Thick, black blood spurted out.
Vincent came back to himself. Wait. What? They’ve... they’ve
already...? He looked around, disoriented. The fight had begun. Emet
was striking the Queen with his monumental palms. Nova was
teleporting, striking, vanishing. But something was wrong. They were
moving in slow motion. Or maybe it was him who was elsewhere.
The Queen finally moved. Slowly. Too slowly for a boss of this
level. Every movement was calculated, measured, constrained. She
raised a massive segment and struck Emet. The blow was heavy,
powerful, but clumsy. As if she were afraid of breaking something.
Emet took the hit, recoiled two steps, and grimaced.
— She hits hard. Really hard. But she moves like she's walking
on eggshells.
... , Vincent thought.
The Queen defended herself as best she could, but her movements
were limited. Constrained by her need to protect her children. Nova
teleported, striking exposed areas. Emet soaked up damage, dealt it
back. The white carapace was progressively cracking. Black blood
flowed.
And in Vincent's head, the voice pleaded.
Not my children. Please. Take my life. Take everything. But
leave them.
Vincent felt something twist in his chest. A rage. Cold.
Incomprehensible. He didn't know where it came from. He didn't know
why it was there. But it was rising, rising, rising.
Why am I angry? Why does it piss me off that they're attacking
her? It's just a boss. It's just a monster. It's...
He looked at the eggs. The shapes moving inside. Almost ready to
be born.
It's a mother.
— Stop, he said.
Nobody heard him. Nova was firing her runic blunderbusses. Emet was
slapping the Queen with a force that made the ground tremble.
— STOP IT! Vincent screamed.
Nova stopped, turning her head toward him, surprised.
— Vincent, what the...
— Your brats. Hope you weren't planning on keeping them.
The Queen winced violently. Not from pain, but from rage. Her segments
contracted. Her mandibles snapped. She rose above him. Emet smiled,
black teeth shining. It was exactly what he wanted. He struck the
ground with both palms with monumental force. The wave swept through
the room. Brutal. Blind. Indiscriminate.
Vincent saw what was going to happen. He saw the wave propagate.
He saw the eggs in its path.
— NO!
Time suddenly seemed to have frozen, uncertain. Vincent threw
himself toward the eggs. He didn't know what he hoped to accomplish.
Protect them? Move them? It was stupid. Impossible. But he ran
anyway. The wave hit him mid-run. It lifted him, threw him backward.
He slammed into the wall of flesh with an impact that knocked the
breath out of him.
And the wave continued. It hit the first egg.
A crack appeared. Thin. Almost invisible. Just a dark line running
across the translucent membrane. Then silence. A beat of absolute
silence. As if the world were holding its breath. Vincent saw the
embryo inside move. Wince. Its small clawed legs contracting.
Then the egg burst.
And with it, all the others. Simultaneously. As if an invisible
signal had been given. Twenty explosions. Twenty sprays of amniotic
fluid. Twenty half-formed embryos spilling onto the stone floor. Some
were still moving. Their legs twitched feebly. Their mandibles opened
and closed soundlessly. Then they ceased to move.
Dead before they had lived.
A cry. Not heard with the ears, but felt in the soul. An
abominable, soul-shattering, primordial cry that exploded in
Vincent's head like a psychic bomb. The Queen was howling in despair.
A despair so deep, so total, so absolute that it compressed Vincent's
heart like an iron vise of ice.
He fell to his knees, hands on his skull. The pain was not
physical. It was worse. It was mental. Emotional. Existential. The
three black dots of his mask merged, forming a chasm in his face. The
edges jagged like shards of broken ivory, a jaw that seemed to emerge
from the darkness itself. And he screamed.
Screamed without end. An echo of the Queen's cry. An amplification
of her pain. A resonance of her despair. His Psyche was collapsing.
Nova rushed toward him, shaking him by the shoulders.
— VINCENT! she shouted. PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!
But his scream became increasingly shrill, high-pitched,
unbearable. The walls vibrated. The stone cracked. The air itself
seemed to tear apart. Emet recoiled, eyes wide.
— Fuck, what the...
The Queen, meanwhile, was changing. Her translucent white carapace
became fluorescent. Then iridescent, shining with a thousand colors
that didn't exist. Then black. Completely black, as if all light were
being sucked into her, consumed, annihilated. She contracted. Her
fifteen-meter body folding in on itself. Segments locking together.
Flesh compressing. Bones snapping.
She was shrinking, shrinking, shrinking, until she formed a
perfect ball two meters in diameter. An egg. The last egg. Vincent's
scream stopped. Suddenly. As if cut by a knife. The jaw closed. The
three dots reappeared. He looked up, his voice raspy, destroyed.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
— Fuck. She’s coming.
The egg exploded in
an eruption of living darkness. A creature stepped out. Humanoid.
Totally black. Like the absence of light, like a hole in reality. It
was an ultimate version of the Princesses, but completely humanoid. A
perfect blend of mantis, centipede, and woman.
Two meters tall. Four arms, each ending in claw-blades as long as
sabers. Two powerful legs, sharp spurs on the shins and heels.
Membranous wings deployed, translucent and deadly, capable of slicing
through steel like paper. Her face was a mantis mask, but with
something human. Eyes red as fresh blood. And in those eyes, an
intelligence. A consciousness. A pure hatred.
She opened her maw and screamed. Not a psychic scream this time. A
physical scream, shrill, piercing, filled with rage and betrayed
maternal pain.
Then she charged.
She was fast. Terrifyingly fast. Her four arms struck
simultaneously, creating a whirlwind of blades impossible to follow,
impossible to block, impossible to survive. Emet raised his arms to
deflect. The blades came down on him. Once. Twice. Four times. Eight
times. They never stopped. Each strike tore through flesh and blood.
Each blow dug deeper.
Emet screamed. Not a provocation this time. Pain. He fell back,
stumbled, dropped to his knees. His cadaverous skin was cracking. His
bones were snapping. Nova teleported behind the Queen, rapier raised.
But the creature pivoted—too fast, far too fast—and one of its
wings sliced through the air like a razor.
Nova didn't have time to fully dodge. The membranous blade hit her
shoulder, slicing through armor, skin, muscle. Blood splattered the
floor. She collapsed, screaming, clutching her mutilated shoulder,
her arm dangling. Too much damage. Too fast. Emet tried to stand, but
his legs no longer responded. He spat thick black sludge mixed with
ash.
The Transformed Queen then moved toward Nova. Vincent saw her
fall. He saw the blood. He saw Emet on his knees. He saw the blades
rise. Something snapped in his head. His Psyche, already low,
collapsed completely. Not progressively. Instantly. Like a cliff
crumbling into the sea.
A transformation triggered.The one that slept deep inside him. The one he feared.
The black veins beneath his skin exploded, spreading like living
roots over his entire body, his neck, his face. His claws lengthened,
becoming black as obsidian, sharp as blades forged in darkness. His
maw opened wide—the three holes forming nothing but a single hungry
void, jagged with fangs that seemed made of solidified shadow and
broken ivory.
He no longer had eyes. Just that pit of absolute darkness that
reflected nothing. His body deformed, searching for a shape, pulsing,
breaking and remodeling itself endlessly. He fell to all fours. He
howled. An animal howl, piercing, which had nothing human left in it.
The howl of a predator that has smelled blood.
Then he charged. He no longer thought. He no longer controlled. He
was HUNGER. He was RAGE. He was the Wìdjigò.
He slammed into the Transformed Queen with a violence that cracked
the floor. His claws lacerated the black carapace. Once. Twice. Ten
times. Twenty times. A hundred times. His strikes had no more
technique. No more economy. No more strategy. Just pure brutality. He
clawed, bit, tore. Each bite sucked flesh and energy into the void of
his mask. Each strike drained life and substance.
The Queen fought back. Her four arms struck, her wings sliced, her
spurs tore. Vincent took the hits. He didn't care. Pain no longer
existed. Only HUNGER existed. Emet saw what was happening. He
understood. He grabbed Nova by her good arm, threw her over his
shoulder, and staggered back.
— We're leaving. NOW.
— But...
— NOW, NOVA!
This wasn’t a fight anymore. It was carnage. Vincent was
devouring the Queen alive. His claws tore away chunks of carapace.
His maw sucked in flesh, fluids, bone, energy. Everything disappeared
into the void of his mask. The Queen screamed, struck, struggled. But
Vincent didn't stop. Couldn't stop. She fell. Vincent didn't stop.
He continued. Devouring. Sucking. Consuming. The Queen's body
literally disappeared into the void of his mask, piece by piece,
segment by segment, until nothing remained. No corpse. No carapace.
No blood. Nothing. Just Vincent, on his knees in the center of the
empty room, covered in black blood smoking on his translucent skin,
panting like a wild beast.
Silence fell again. A heavy, absolute silence.
Emet and Nova were leaning against the wall, as far as possible
from Vincent. Nova held her wounded shoulder, her face pale. Emet
supported her, but his eyes never left Vincent. Vincent slowly raised
his head. His black veins were still pulsing. His maw was still
agape. His claws dripped with blood. He looked at Emet. Then Nova.
And in their eyes, he saw fear. Not suspicion. Not surprise. Fear.
Pure and simple.
Vincent lowered his gaze to his hands. To the blood. To the void
where the Queen had been.
Then everything turned white.
They were all teleported. A massive stone slab floating in an
infinite white void. VoodUwU and Mélo appeared a few seconds later,
confused, looking around. No one spoke. VoodUwU saw Nova. The
shredded shoulder. The blood. Emet supporting her. And Vincent. On
his knees. Covered in blood. Trembling.
— What... she started.
Emet cut her off with a look.
— Later.
Chests appeared before each of them. Glowing. Perfect. Filled with
rewards. But no one moved to open them. Mélo looked at Vincent, her
mouth agape.
— Vincent...?
Vincent didn’t answer. He stared at his hands. Over and over.
I devoured the Queen. Completely. Alive. I couldn't stop. I
tried to save the eggs and I failed. And after that, I... I...
Nova finally spoke, her voice weak:
— We won.
No one replied. Emet shook his head slowly.
— This doesn't feel like a victory.
The chests remained closed for several long seconds. Then,
finally, Mélo approached hers. Opened it. The others followed.
Slowly. Without enthusiasm.
[Nova — Rewards]
Scolopendra Set: Chitinous LeatherArmor
Weapon: Serrated Blade Rapier
Skill: Fractal Teleportation
[Emet — Rewards]
Scolopendra Set: Reinforced Carapace Gauntlets
Weapon:
Skill:
[VoodUwU — Rewards]
Scolopendra Set: Reinforced Hirudic Robe
Weapon: Scolopendra Staff
Skill:
[Mélo — Rewards]
Scolopendra Set: Chitinous Harmonic Hooded Cape
Weapon: Living String Harp
Skill:
[Vincent — Rewards]
Nothing. Just a message:
[Scolopendra Queen Heart — Total Consumption Detected]
[New Ability Unlocked: HEART FUSION]
[Sub-Class Available: Strigo?] [Quest Required for Unlock]
Vincent stared at the message.
The others were opening their chests, examining their new gear. But
the atmosphere was heavy. Tense. No one congratulated anyone. No one
smiled. Then another message appeared.
[LEVEL 10 REACHED]
[Dungeon Quest: The Colony — COMPLETED]
[Sub-class choice available]
A silence. Then VoodUwU whispered:
— We... we did it.
No one responded with enthusiasm.
Then, suddenly, everyone was
disconnected. Black screen. A new message appeared. Different. More
personal.
[SPECIAL MESSAGE — TRAUM Inc.]
Attention: EchoZero (Vincent Moreau)
Abnormal performance
flagged.
Total consumption of a Unique Elite Boss: Scolopendra Queen
(Level 10).
Complete organic integration: 100%.
Hematopsychic
Resonance: Critical Level.
This performance exceeds standard parameters by 347%.
TRAUM Inc. offers you a unique opportunity related to
your specific profile: Continue the Beta in our private facilities
under reinforced medical observation. Ultra-high-performance VR pods.
Long-duration connections. Fed, housed, monitored.
25% bonus on all
gains.
Your team has also been selected to accompany you. You
have 1 minute to decide. Majority vote required. Unanimity mandatory.
One single chance.
[YES] [NO]
The timer appeared. 60 seconds. Vincent stared at the screen,
still in shock from what had just happened.
Abnormal performance flagged. Reinforced medical observation.
They know. Fuck, they know something is wrong with me.
He looked at the options. But what else do I have? Stay at my
mother's? Die slowly in this piece-of-shit room? He voted.
[YES]
The others voted too. One by one.
[UNANIMOUS VOTE — ACCEPTED]
See you tomorrow, 09:00, TRAUM Inc. Complex, Sector 7. Transport
provided, starting from 08:00. Bring the essentials. The rest will be
provided.
Then everything went dark.
Vincent woke up in his room. VR headset still on his head. He took
it off slowly, blinking in the light of his bedside lamp. Back in his
dingy, revolting room. He looked at his hands. Normal. No black
veins. No claws. No blood. Just his hands, thin, white, soft, with
bitten nails.
But for a fraction of a second — just a fraction — he saw the
black veins. Pulsing under his skin. Alive. He blinked. They had
disappeared.
He breathed in. Hold. Exhale. Hold. Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything
changes. He lay back down, staring at the ceiling.
But he already knew the answer. Something else. Something
dangerous. Something hungry. He closed his eyes.