The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 1166: Hive Mind

"I only managed to tell him," Killian said, tilting his head toward Jax before continuing, "because as you know, the little one hatched almost immediately afterward. But even before this whole Pet Food incident, I believe I could already see through the eyes of one of the worker bees." He frowned, recalling the experience. "Just one. Nothing like... whatever that was."

He rubbed his forehead instinctively.

"Earlier, it felt like I got hit by dozens of perspectives all at once."

Off to the side, the Elders exchanged uneasy looks before Elder Shen finally spoke.

"If we’re thinking along the right lines..." the man who was, in reality, far older than he now appeared began carefully, "then the two of you will need to learn how to control this ability as soon as possible. Because we highly doubt today will be the last time something like this happens."

His expression grew considerably more serious.

"Ordinarily, abilities involving shared perception require tremendous focus to maintain and are notoriously taxing on both the mind and body. I’d advise beginning your training right away if you ever hope to return to your normal routines."

He paused before letting out a weary sigh.

"If you’re fortunate... perhaps three months."

The room immediately fell quiet.

"But that’s assuming neither of you becomes distracted."

The Elder looked genuinely troubled now.

There were records from long ago of cultivators who’d successfully sought after similar abilities, only to eventually lose their minds because they could no longer distinguish their own senses from those of everyone else.

But such information didn’t seem like the sort of thing he ought to bring up in an atmosphere that had already turned rather somber.

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I figured it’d be something like that, but is there even a way to—"

He stopped halfway through the sentence.

Everyone instinctively turned toward the source of a quiet chuckle.

Jax.

The redhead, despite everyone else’s sudden worry, was smiling at the little Queen, who puffed out her tiny chest with unmistakable pride after receiving whatever silent praise she’d apparently earned.

"...?"

Only after noticing that the room had fallen completely silent did Jax finally look up.

"Oh."

He blinked a few times, looking from one person to the next before quietly adding,

"Well... I figured we could just ask her."

Everyone stared.

"She might be really young," he continued matter-of-factly, gently patting the Queen’s head while taking care not to touch her sensitive antennae, "but she’s already really capable."

The grin on his face was so bright that nobody would’ve guessed he had actually collapsed from sensory overload not all that long ago.

Countess Jenna looked thoroughly confused.

"Jax, dear..." she said carefully. "What exactly do you mean by... ask her?"

"Oh, hey, Mom!"

The redhead smiled easily.

"I mean literally ask her."

He gestured toward the tiny Queen.

"It seems that if I make what I want to see clear enough, she’ll simply show it to me."

"...What?"

"Like earlier, after I woke up," Jax explained. "I wondered what the prettiest grump was doing."

The little Queen let out an especially pleased squeak.

"So even with my eyes closed..." Jax continued, smiling as he gently scratched beneath her tiny chin, "she showed me."

"?!"

There were...

There were several things wrong with that explanation. Several words that had different people raising entirely different brows for entirely different reasons.

Nope.

Not having that right here and right now.

Killian very nearly swore under his breath before forcibly steering his attention toward the only part that other ears should actually hear.

"Wait," he interrupted. "Are you saying... you’re already controlling it?"

The disbelief on his face perfectly mirrored everyone else’s.

Jax, however, only looked puzzled by the question.

"Control?" He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "I’m not sure I’d call it control."

He smiled sheepishly.

"I just figured it couldn’t hurt to ask."

He looked down fondly at the little Queen.

"And what do you know?"

"She did exactly what I wanted."

Jax shrugged as though he’d merely discovered an easier way to open a stubborn jar.

"So now, provided I ask nicely, I think she’ll probably just show me whatever I want to see."

Killian blinked.

Once.

Then again.

He honestly couldn’t decide what was more absurd.

The ability itself...

Or the fact that Jax had somehow skipped months of training simply by politely asking.

Then again, judging by the knowing grin the redhead wore as he looked at the thoroughly flabbergasted official, Jax would’ve liked to remind him that it never hurt to ask. After all, the worst answer he could’ve received was a simple no.

And at best...

He’d get exactly what he wanted.

Or perhaps something even better.

Like the little replay service the tiny Queen had apparently added in her excitement, just for him.

__

Not that Killian wouldn’t get something courtesy of her, because in the coming days, he definitely would. But because the young bee was connected to their seas of consciousness, it was also impossible not to get a general idea of what they might or might not want.

With her ever-smiling progenitor, things were remarkably simple.

His thoughts and actions almost always aligned, making him incredibly easy to understand. Whenever he wanted to see something, he’d simply think about it, ask, and be done with it. There was very little hesitation, almost no contradiction, and certainly none of the complicated loops the little Queen found herself stumbling into elsewhere.

Her other parent, however, was an entirely different matter.

He seemed to spend an extraordinary amount of time arguing with himself over the oddest things.

The young Queen couldn’t quite understand why.

Neither, for that matter, could the rest of the hive.

But because they were all connected to her, and she to them, the emotional turbulence coming from the blue-haired contributor inevitably rippled throughout the colony. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was noticeable enough that, before long, observing the perpetually conflicted parent had somehow become everyone’s collective priority.

Truthfully, things had already settled down considerably after everyone realized the sudden bouts of vertigo would become far less frequent once Jax discovered he could simply request whichever perspective he wanted to see instead of being force-fed every available viewpoint at once.

With that crisis more or less resolved, they were finally allowed to leave the medical bay and begin discussing considerably more practical matters.

Namely, where exactly an entire Queen bee and her rapidly growing hive ought to live.

After much discussion, several suggestions, and one surprisingly passionate argument from the worker bees themselves, it was ultimately decided that the new hive would simply be built wherever the little Queen chose.

Honestly, it was a perfectly reasonable solution.

If not for one tiny complication.

Well...

Tiny only in comparison to the hive itself.

Because every now and then, the worker bees would collectively pause in the middle of whatever they happened to be doing as another wave of contradictory emotions quietly swept through the colony.

It always came from the same source.

Their blue-haired contributor.

One moment, he’d be firmly convinced of one thing.

The next—

He’d somehow convince himself of the complete opposite.

At this point, the hive rather wished he’d make up his mind already.

Did he want to wake up and see the smiley progenitor’s face every morning...

Or did he want it in the afternoon?

Because by the hundredth time, even the most innocent of the bees would dare not believe statements that said he didn’t want to see it at all.

Just who would he be kidding?!

Well, definitely not the bees!