The wind howled through the cracked caverns as Arman descended the last stair of bone and stone.The tunnels beneath the dead city were not carved by men — they were grown. The walls pulsed faintly, veins of black chitin glowing with an inner heartbeat. Every sound — his breath, his footsteps, the hiss of the swarm in his blood — echoed for miles.
"We are close," whispered the voice of the Hive inside him."Can you feel them, Monarch? Sleeping… waiting."
Arman pressed his hand against the wall. It felt warm. Alive.
"I feel hunger," he murmured.
"Then feed them."
The floor split open beneath his feet.
A vast chamber unfurled, shaped like the inside of a colossal cocoon. Thousands of pods hung from the ceiling like pale lanterns — each containing something curled and still. The air shimmered with spores and golden dust. In the center, a massive egg pulsed, half-buried in the black soil.
Arman stepped closer. The swarm inside him went silent — reverent, almost fearful.
"The First Brood," the voice said."Born before language. Fed on gods."
Arman's hand trembled as he reached out. "And now… they'll feed on my command."
The moment his fingers brushed the shell, the cavern awoke.Pods cracked open. From each fell a creature — half insect, half man, eyes burning with faint green light. Their carapace gleamed like polished obsidian, and their limbs clicked in unison as if answering an ancient hymn.
The swarm in Arman's veins screamed — joy, pain, unity.He fell to one knee, clutching his chest as a thousand new minds connected to his own.
"We see you, Monarch," they said as one."We serve."
Arman rose slowly. "Then rise with me."
The creatures obeyed. They knelt, heads bowed, their breath syncing with his. The cavern trembled — a heartbeat born from thousands.
Hours later, the Hive thrummed with life. Arman watched as the new brood built, molded, and shaped the walls into spirals and arches. Black resin formed bridges, tunnels, and pillars. It was no longer a ruin — it was his kingdom.
Yet among the swarm, one shape moved differently — a tall female with silver veins running across her carapace. Her eyes glowed faintly blue, not green. She approached, her movements graceful, almost human.
"You are not like the others," Arman said.
"I am Lyra," she replied — her voice a perfect blend of melody and hiss."I was made to speak. To question. To remember."
"Then remember this," Arman said, stepping closer. "You are my first lieutenant. You'll command the Brood when I cannot."
Lyra bowed. "And when you fall?"
He smiled faintly. "Then I will rise again — through you."
But peace never lasts long in the Plague's kingdom.
A tremor shook the chamber. The swarm hissed in alarm. From the tunnels above, a surge of burning light spilled downward — molten silver cascading through cracks like divine fire. The brood screamed as their flesh ignited.
Arman turned his gaze upward.From the breach above, figures in radiant armor descended, wings of pure flame spreading wide — the Purifiers had found him.
"By order of the Holy Synod!" one shouted. "Burn the nest! Burn the heretic!"
Arman raised his hand, and the swarm surged like a storm of razors.The cavern erupted into chaos.
Flames met flesh. Insects clashed against holy light. Lyra leaped forward, her arms transforming into bladed limbs, cutting through armor as the air filled with ash and screams. The sound of battle was like a choir of agony.
Arman's body split open — the swarm pouring out like a black flood, devouring the Purifiers mid-prayer. The Hive itself fought back, tendrils of resin impaling intruders, dragging them into walls that pulsed like mouths.
Then — silence.
Smoke drifted across the ruins. Half the brood lay dead, their bodies already dissolving back into the soil. Arman stood at the center, breathing heavily. His armor was cracked, glowing faintly from the burns.
Lyra staggered to his side. "They found us, my king. The Empire knows."
"I wanted them to," Arman said coldly.He turned his gaze to the corpses of the Purifiers, already being absorbed by the floor. "Now they'll carry my message back… through their own blood."
Lyra looked up, confused. "Message?"
Arman's eyes gleamed with the light of a thousand wings."That the age of purity is over. The age of infection begins."
Far above, in the holy capital of Solaria, the high priest stood before the crystal window, watching a new star rise in the sky — a green light pulsing from deep beneath the earth.
He shuddered. "So the Plague Monarch lives."
And in the darkness below, Arman smiled as the swarm whispered a single word into his soul:
"Ascend."
End of Chapter 4