I would like to file a formal complaint with the universe.
Because I swear on my left kidney, the moment I stepped out of that portable bunker of a kitchen, a bee—one single, determined, unemployed bee—decided I was its new religion.
Now normally, I respect bees. They make honey. They pollinate plants. They buzz politely. They mind their own business unless you step on them or attempt to talk to them about cryptocurrency.
But THIS bee?
This one was built DIFFERENT.
It hovered in front of me like it was judging my credit score. Its wings buzzed in the exact pitch of a Losedows XP error sound. And its eyes—do bees have eyes?—glowed with the full might of a level-90 raid boss.
And, because the universe hates me specifically:
ME.THE GUY WHO INVENTED HYDROGEN.BEING OVERWHELMED BY A BUG.
"Nope. No. Stop. Get away from me, you flying syringe," I said, waving my hands like a malfunctioning windmill.
Naturally, the bee interpreted this as a challenge to 1v1 me in the parking lot.
It lunged.
I screamed.
Heroic. Dignified. Completely masculine scream.
I ducked behind a random crate, which—because the universe loves slapstick—collapsed immediately.
I fell. The crate fell. The bee fell.
Why did the bee fall? Why was the bee falling toward me at Mach 5???
And before I could even process that cursed pun, the floor began vibrating.
The crate shattered.
The air grew thick.
And the original bee—the tiny, annoying one—froze in the air like it suddenly remembered an important appointment.
Then I heard it.
BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
A bass-boosted, thousand-speaker subwoofer of a buzz.
And from behind the crates…
…emerged the largest bee I have ever seen.
No.
No, that is an understatement.
This bee was the size of a buffalo that forgot to stop evolving. Its wings were like propellers. Its stinger cast a shadow. It had the physique of a gym bro who only trains upper body. Its abdomen flexed like it had an eight-pack.
The alpha bee looked at me.
The original bee pointed at me.
I'm not kidding. It POINTED. With its leg. At me.
The giant bee nodded.
And the system message confirmed my death.
"Oh come ON!" I yelled at the sky. "I DIDN'T EVEN AGGRO YOU! I WAS JUST EXISTING!"
Apis Ultima flapped its wings once.
Just once.
And the resulting shockwave threw me across the entire warehouse like a badminton shuttlecock hit by god.
I smashed into a wall, slid down, coughed, and tried to pretend that my spine wasn't currently in another timeline.
"Okay," I wheezed. "Think. Think. What would a protagonist do?"
The system answered.
RUDE. But fair.
I scrambled to my feet, grabbed the nearest item—…a frying pan? Why is there ALWAYS a frying pan during life-or-death situations?
"Fine," I muttered. "Come at me, you protein-powered helicopter."
Apis Ultima charged.
I swung.
CLAAAAAANG
The frying pan shattered.
Not bent. Not dented. SHATTERED.
Like it owed the bee money.
I stared at the handle in my hand.
"YOU DON'T SAY," I shouted.
The bee reared up.
The stinger descended.
I braced myself.
And then—BOOM.
Purple smoke exploded in front of me.
The stinger stopped.
A figure stepped out of the smoke like they were auditioning for the role of "mysterious ally who appears at the last second because the author said so."
Tall. Hooded. Cloaked in swirling violet energy. And carrying a staff shaped like a spiral galaxy.
They raised one hand.
A rune ignited in the air.
And the system screamed:
Then—
FOOOOOM
A vortex of pure nothingness swallowed the bee's stinger like it was slurping spaghetti.
Apis Ultima screamed.
The cloaked figure turned toward me.
"You alright?" they asked, voice distorted like they'd swallowed a radio.
"No," I said. "And also, who—what—why—HOW—Void Synthesis?? THAT sounds illegal."
"It is," they said cheerfully.
And just as I opened my mouth to ask what kind of illegal we were talking about—
Apis Ultima roared and charged again.
The cloaked figure sighed. "Okay, plan B."
"Plan B?" I repeated.
"Yeah. "They cracked their knuckles. "Bee extinction."
Then to the system:
"Override: Skill Cap."
The system gasped.
I swear it GASPED.
The cloaked figure raised their hand anyway.
"Void Synthesis: Cataclysm Protocol."
The system shrieked.
Too late.
KRRRRRRRRRRSHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Space itself folded like a bedsheet in the hands of someone who definitely does not know how to fold bedsheets.
A black-purple sphere formed.
Silent.
Dense.
Terrifying.
And then—
FWOMP
It expanded.
Not outwards.Inwards.
Like the world inverted for a second.
Apis Ultima, Monarch of Stingdom…
…imploded.
Bloop.
Gone.
The figure lowered their hand.
The void closed.
The system displayed the absolute minimum possible enthusiasm:
I sat on the floor, trembling.
The cloaked person offered a hand. "Need help up?"
"S-sure," I said. "But before that—who ARE you?"
The figure leaned in.
Their hood dropped back slightly.
And for the first time…
…I saw their face.
My jaw dropped.
"You—?!"
They smirked.
"Miss me?"