Chapter 4: Turning Them into the Lowest-Rank Worker Insects

“Tch…”

A hiss escaped through gritted silver teeth. 

Every word seemed crushed between them before being forced out.

Ella had tried to lift her head.

The first time, she tensed the muscles in her neck, attempting to raise her face from the floor.

But Dieyi simply applied a little more pressure with her sole, and Ella’s forehead slammed back down hard.

Thud.

The second time, she clenched her jaw and used every ounce of strength in her body. 

The chains rattled loudly as she pulled against them, but the response was an intensified grinding on the back of her head, as if a foot were hammering a nail into a board.

Thud.

The third time, she felt warm liquid flowing from her forehead. 

It slid down the bridge of her nose, lingered at the corner of her eye for a moment, then seeped into her eye, turning her vision into a blurry red haze.

The metallic scent of blood.

How many years had it been?

She was bleeding again.

Unpleasant.

Extremely unpleasant!

As the Insect Mother, the one and only supreme creator on this island—she had even created the island itself—she was actually being stepped on by her own failures!

The foot on the back of her head continued rubbing. 

The texture of the black stockings traced circles across her scalp with moderate pressure, as if someone were testing the quality of a carpet with their sole.

Dieyi made no effort to hide her enjoyment of the sensation. 

Her breathing had grown steadier, even carrying a lazy satisfaction, like a cat that had finally caught a mouse. 

She wasn’t in a hurry to kill her prey; instead, she slowly savored every bit of its fear.

“Last warning, Ella.”

Dieyi’s voice drifted down from above.

“I can hear every command you’re sending through the network. If you dare issue any more orders in there…”

Her sole pressed down slightly harder, nearly embedding Ella’s forehead into the ground.

“I guarantee I’ll kill you immediately.”

She paused.

“If you want to gamble on whether your precious swarm can rescue you before I act…”

Her sole ground down lightly, as if helping Ella weigh the choice.

“Go ahead and try.”

“You—!”

Ella’s voice squeezed out from deep in her throat, burning with both blood and humiliation.

Her crimson pupils flickered within the bloodstains, like two rubies stepped into the mud, still stubbornly reflecting light.

But no matter how unpleasant it was, no matter how angry she felt…

She forced herself to calm down.

Breathe. 

Think. Do not let emotions take control.

The most important lesson her ten years as Insect Mother had taught her was to maintain clear judgment of the situation at all times.

The swarm could go mad, but the Insect Mother could not. 

She was the brain, the core, the center of the entire system. 

If she lost control, everything would collapse.

She began to analyze.

Dieyi could hear the commands she sent through the network. 

This meant that she—at least Dieyi—had some kind of connection to the nest network. After all, she had said she was “the failure closest to success.”

But the situation had not reached her worst possible scenario.

Because if Dieyi truly possessed the same level of authority as her, if they could actually seize control of the nest network, they wouldn’t need to chain her up or pin her head down with a foot.

They could have simply ordered the swarm to turn on her.

But they hadn’t.

This meant that Dieyi and her companions could only “hear” at most. 

They could not issue commands, modify instructions, or give orders to the swarm.

They had no authority.

They had merely taken advantage of the moment she let her guard down, physically restraining her movements. 

The swarm was still her swarm. 

The nest was still her nest. She was simply temporarily unable to mobilize them.

If that was the case—

Then as long as she waited, there was still a chance.

Just wait.

You failures.

She pressed her forehead against the cold floor, letting the blood trickle from her brow bone to her lips. 

The taste of rust and sweetness spread across her tongue. 

She stopped struggling. 

She no longer tried to lift her head, and she issued no more commands through the consciousness network.

She was waiting.

Waiting for the Nest Tyrants to find her.

Waiting for those dozens of five-meter-tall war machines to smash through every wall in this place and tear apart these bastards who had stepped on her head, chained her hands, and made her bleed!

Then, she would turn them into the lowest-rank worker insects.

She would send them to the deepest parts of the nest, into sunless tunnels, where day after day they would transport secretions, produce mucus, and build the hive.

No thoughts. No self. No revenge. 

Only work. Until their bodies slowly wore down over countless days and nights, disintegrated, and became part of the nest walls.

For the rest of their lives.

No—longer than a lifetime.

She would constantly repair and modify them, ensuring they could never die and never stop.

Yes, she would preserve their consciousness.

Every day after work ended, she would go see them.

The corners of her mouth curled slightly upward within the bloodstains.

“Dieyi, the bomb is ready.”

An unfamiliar voice came from a corner of the room, crisp and concise.

Ella’s blood ran cold.

What?

A bomb?

What were they planning to do?!