There was no hesitation or caution found in the chitinous legs of the first skittering beast that dared enter my decadent domain. Nor was there in the second, or the third, or the fourth…. Or even the sixty-ninth, or any that entered after that really.

Their movements were quick and skittish revealing indecision and inexperience, yet still, they changed forward,

There was no strategy to their charge, no intelligence, no need for caution. Like a pack of rabid middle-aged women competing over a singular untouched bottle of champagne at a bachelorette party; the monsters had absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

Not even phased by the barrage of anxiety-inducing pollen that greeted them, the creatures were only really initially slowed by the widow’s grass that lined my maze floors as they scuttled down twisting and turning pathways. The writhing black strings of the grass attempting to suffocate the strange bugs to the best of their abilities.

I really couldn’t tell if the creatures were spurred on by excitement or that strange screeching song that was blasting through the rift, but for now, I’ll just assume they really want to smell the flowers….

It wasn’t as if these things were flinging themselves forward with the very goal of consuming my soul……

Right ????

Maybe they just decided to delve into the Ascendant plain so they could look at some flowers. Although my labyrinth only sports flora of one type, there still is a small chance that that might satisfy these monsters.

Flowers aside, I couldn’t tell If I was to be scared, shocked, or surprised by what was flowing into my domain in great number.

Supposedly the “Hive” was meant to be cunning, ruthless, and almighty. Their song bragged of it. It dripped with confidence.

All of this was lacking in what I can only describe as the “Hivelings” that crawled through that horrendous crack in reality. Their song was weak, stupid, and senseless. Their cries lacked intelligence, and their screams were quickly drowned out by the clinking of a million razor-sharp iron-like leaves.

To get drowned out by some plants… That was not something I expected of a Hive song.

Maybe this first raid wouldn’t be as stressful as I first thought….

Perhaps my soul was safer than I first thought.

It was like comparing an award-winning opera singer to a half-baked drugged-out Karen trying to impress her husband at karaoke night in an attempt to save her marriage. One could command an entire stadium, and the other had to really struggle to captivate a single man.

In this case, the opera singer was Savra-Nakalaptof the one who had opened this tear in reality, and the pieces of trash were these strangely weak bugs that came in her stead.

Thinking about some more, I couldn’t remember if opera singers were actually capable of performing reality-bending magic in my past life, but for now, I’ll assume they were. The magic of musical theater was a special thing after all.

Checking back in on the many nascent Hive that were rushing headfirst into my glorious labyrinth of purple, I felt it a real shame that I couldn’t actually access any of their system data. For some reason, unlike everything else that was in my domain, I couldn’t convince Mr. Blue or Mrs. Purple to hand over any information other than what was already given.

And there wasn’t anything at all given other than the estimated length of their unwelcome intrusion.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried. It was just that I was getting completely stonewalled by both of my supreme overlords.

Not the reaction I was looking for honestly, especially since my very SOUL was on the line at the moment, but no big deal. For now, it seemed that I was safe.

Ever since his shockingly strongly emotional speil when the rift first opened, Mr. Blue had gone back to his usual robotic self. Spamming me with nothing but the same boring message every time I even breached the subject of oversized space bugs. That, as well as hitting me with an absolutely horrendous buzzing noise reminiscent of a dying toaster that lasted a few seconds as well.

Non-existent ears bleeding and metaphorical heart pounding, I was forced to read the same monotone moronic message over and over again.

You do not have the authority to view the information of beings not of this realm.

Not even the rare title of “ comrade “ could rouse Mr. Blue from his evil capitalistic ways. So, I moved on to harassing Mrs. Purple. The square overlord of the very plane that I resided in, in hopes that she, in all her squarish glory, could spare some information on the invaders.

All I got from her was a throaty violet chuckle and a tiny morsel of knowledge that sent shivers down my non-existent back. It wasn’t often that I heard something speak in colors, but when I did, it usually meant something was very wrong, and I really didn’t want to push my luck with another godlike entity.

Especially * COUGH *COUGH, the mind-reading ever so beautiful and violet, Mrs. Purple the great.

Imagining the consequences of another potential gambit designed to screw me over, I resigned myself to observing the encroaching space monsters as they slowly picked their way through the hallways of my maze.

Slowly and ever so consistently making their way towards my soul…

Oh, and as for what Mrs. Purple told me ??? Well, the insectoid monsters that could easily tear a human apart within seconds. The ones that were currently infesting my maze with their unbearably unfashionable presence. The ones who could survive in the vacuum of space without any protection. The ones that were equipped with chitinous sythes half a meter long, yes those ones…. they were all children, less than three cycles old in age. HIVE Broodlings in fact….

Savra-Nakalaptof had not come because she was scared… No, she was not here because she was too powerful… The broodlings that she sent ??? They were her weakest, just barely weak enough to slip through the rift she opened.

They were an odd bunch really, a strange glimpse into the earliest phases of a chittering horror’s life. An odd look at the weakest of the Hive. They were also a strange glimpse into an entomologist’s wet dream but that’s not the point.

Each broodling was “special” in its own grotesque way. All about a meter tall, each one had the appearance of a somewhat melted praying mantis fused with an assortment of other random insects. Some had eight legs, some had three, some had an antenna, while others had eyes.

The Hive seemed to favor genetic diversity to the extreme. Just like my old collection of Persian rugs, no two broodlings were the same.

Aside from all resembling a praying mantis to some degree, every single one of the hive broodlings featured bold plates of taupe chitin highlighted by sickly glowing bioluminescent chartreuse stripes.

They were, to say the least, all absolutely horrifically ugly to the highest degree.

To my utter distaste, it was quite obvious that these creatures had long ago thrown away any sense of aesthetics. Having thrown away all of it for a sense of ruthless efficiency.

What a shame.

They had the potential to be so delightfully pretty, but they had thrown that away.

For what ??

The form of an insect could provide so much beauty whilst still maintaining deadly efficiency.

I actually felt a twinge of pity as I watched the broodlings wander through sky-high corridors of rattling purple leaves.

They could have been so pretty, but instead, they had to go about their sad lives whilst being ugly. What a crime.

If I ever got my hands on any insects, I’d decisively show up the Hive with a dazzling and deadly display.

I would make it painfully obvious that things worked best while also looking good.

Ugliness aside, it was also quite obvious that the creatures were not at all well adjusted to the environment of my maze, most likely wishing that they were back in the cozy void of space.

There was a yearning in their beady eyes, a yearning for home, a yearning for the deep dark depths of an unlit asteroid field.

Although I really wasn’t too understanding of such a preference, as I would choose razor-sharp purple leaves over dark slimy chambers filled with anemic fluid on every day of the year. I could at least sympathize with the plight of being thrust into an unfamiliar environment. From what I remember it being, a month of forgoing custom-tailored clothing to experience the horrors of fast fashion was a wild ride back in the day.

Leaving my comfort zone really did change my perspective on life for the better.

But that has nothing to do with the Hive broodlings, does it?

Slowed down by both gossamer threads of widows grass, and the occasional injury caused by an outgoing hedge leaf, the never-ending wave of broodlings was slowly yet steadily making its way through the twisting and turning corridors of my labyrinth. With many individuals splitting off to explore the many diverging corridors that my lovely hedges formed. Some broodlings looping back into dead ends, and some finding themselves back where they first started.

Even when faced with a dead-end, there wasn’t a single moment in which any of the broodlings stoped. Taking brutal efficiency to a new level, many broodlings just immediately turned around and began crawling over their brethren in their eternal attempt to find something of value.

Interestingly enough, the foglike mist created by an everpresent rain of pollen did little to impede the navigation of the Broodlings in the long term, nor did it seem to clog any respiratory systems that the broodlings may or may not have had. This was probably due to the Hive’s adaptation to both dark spaces and deep space. Rendering the more mundane properties of my deep yellow fog rain tragically useless.

All the pieces of pollen could do was coat every inch of the Hive in a thick yellow coat. Delightfully hiding their deformed bodies from my prying eyes.

Though I do still hold hope for the magical psychological properties of the pollen as mentioned earlier by Mr. Blue. If anything, aside from Minos, somehow leading these precious little broodlings into insanity was my best bet.

Perhaps, I might even convince a few of them to leave the hive and learn gardening somehow. Convince the Hive to follow in my footsteps, get them all addicted to caring for eldritch mindbending plants.

As long as they shed their ugly shells for something a little more aesthetically pleasing, I would open the broodlings with open arms if they wanted to ever convert.

—---------------------

Time passed quite slowly, with each second taking what felt like hours to pass. Having to stare at the aesthetic nightmare that was the broodlings for hours was taking quite the toll on my mental health.

Although the rain of pollen covered up most of the ugliness found crawling about my maze, it was impossible to really hide all of it.

If I was to ever meet Savra-Nakalaptof in the future, I would most definitely scold her for allowing her brood to become completely unsymmetrical. I felt assaulted by the fact that many of the broodlings had varying amounts of legs on each side of their bodies.

Alas seeing my lovely plants in action somewhat soothed my soul, saving the little bit of whatever sanity I had left.

The tragedy of my pollen being countered aside, everything else was doing fine after an hour of nonstop invasion. My widow’s grass was most definitely causing the broodlings to slow, while the hedges have done a fine job cutting up any of the Hive stupid enough to get near. No broodling has yet to encounter any whispering moss but I do have high hopes for that as well.

With nothing to do but settle Minos into a strategically sound position, I plopped my nonexistent self right above the rift as I washed the hive slowly advance into my very first sector.

Forty-three hours to go !!! That’s enough time to sew up a half-decent garment, I just hope it isn’t also enough time to tear down my first sector.

For now, I’m just hoping with all my might that this large colony of ancient space bugs doesn’t have any other nasty surprises waiting for me in that time….

.. Did I just jinx myself ???

I think I just jinxed myself…. Can bodyless dungeon cores do that or is that just a human thing ???

Judging by the bad feeling permeating the atmosphere, I don’t think it’s just a human thing….

Okay, Aetherus…

Use what you remember from your Pre-I̵̖͒Ň̶̹̣̀̅Š̷̤̓́Ä̴͈̊̈́ͅN̸̠͐Î̶̦͈́̏T̶̰̰̀͜Ẏ̵̳ ™ era to your advantage.

You may not have watched Generic Home Invasion 4, But you had a life, you know a solution to this problem.

There's only one way to counter a jinx like that... It's time to say reaffirming things in the third person.

Ready…. 3, 2, 1 Go!

Your soul isn’t going to get eaten today Aetherus, so cheer up !!!

Remember how you should act Aetherus, its so you can make the best decisions.

You voted on it, which means it's probably a good idea Aetherus !!!

dOnT yOu dArE gEt fReAkEd oUt bY tHe wEiRd bUgS aEtHeRuS !!!

Alas, my decision to be neutral yet slightly unhinged fell apart when not two hours into their raid, there was a grand change in several of the broodlings.

They were the ones that had ventured deepest into my domain, the ones that I was watching the closest.

I was definitely expecting a change in these ones. After all, you can’t just avoid the effects of my lovely plants. I experienced firsthand what eldritch plants could do to a man, forget a simple-minded bug.

Having spent the longest being surrounded by my plants these specific broodlings were prime candidates for change.

Tragically, however, these broodlings were not going insane. Quite the opposite really.

Zooming every ounce of my focus on a changing broodling, my mood plummeted as I highly disliked what I saw.

Under a thick layer of pollen that had slowly collected over time; chitin was shifting. Warping. Expanding.

Muscles grew and blades sharpened.

This broodling and many others like it were adapting. Changing. Evolving into something better suited to raiding my domain….

Using terms more suited to the system I found myself attached to, they were leveling up.

This wasn’t just a wardrobe change. These things were growing into something a little more reminiscent of a fully grown member of the hive. The were leveling up….

Their screeching cries were changing, their song was growing in power. The song of the newly freshly leveled Broodligns was improving. Ever so slightly it became more like the one sung by Savra-Nakalaptof.

And that scared me to the point that I decided that manic panic was a more appropriate reaction.

That and setting the one minion I could control at the moment upon the brooding menace.

It was time to actively begin culling these damn insects before they grew powerful enough to completely steamroll the rest of my labyrinth.

There were times that decorum had to be put aside, and this was one of them. It was now forced to greet my unwelcome guests with force.

From a war of attrition, this challenge has turned into a game with quite the pressing timer.

If I can’t just wait out the death of these damn broodlings, I guess I’ll have to resort to something a little more primitive.

It was about time to get smashing.

MINOS !!!!!