Sometimes I think we're heading in the wrong direction. I know this isn't the best way to start this conversation, but I don't think there's a perfect time for it. We are what we are, and we won't change, at least not enough to stop being what we are. Even though our bodies may evolve and literally undergo unrecognizable metamorphoses, our minds remain closed and solid as concrete.

I say this because once again I'm here, sitting on a small wax throne with soft silk pillows, surrounded by a large round table with simple chairs, each seat a vital member of the hive, and here I am once again. Facing my own children, who once again argue about what the "right" thing to do is.

The situation? Wildlife is a little... shall we say... "threatening." Our base is operating at full steam, and with the recent expansion came new problems, including some inventory issues, some logistical issues, a few scheduling issues, and a few things here and there. But none of these problems compare to the problem of our "enemies" on the other side of the wall.

I say "enemies" because you can't label a wild animal an enemy when you're—sort of—invading their territory. But it's not that simple. This is our home now, and wildlife is too big a threat to ignore.

Now, what's the best course of action regarding this problem? Hunt every creature that comes near? Build traps? Develop some kind of "animal scarer"? There's no consensus on this in the hive. Some say it's best to hunt them all, but it's not that simple. Hunting would mean we'd have to utilize the resources these creatures generate, even if we had the option of discarding all the "useless" parts—like meat and viscera—this isn't a realistic solution, because it would be too many resources, resources that would pose a biological risk to the hive.

Burying is difficult, burning is too dangerous, leaving it lying around would attract other, more powerful creatures. Eating might even be a solution, but meat isn't exactly the best option on the menu when we consider our biology. We could sell it, but to whom?

Then comes the option of ignoring the creatures/moving them away from the camp, which... Well, that's easier said than done. We'd need an effective way to contain these beasts, of which there are plenty, and also ways to prevent them from getting close.

This is a bit easier. Unlike the unstoppable, bloodthirsty monsters that came in waves in Aurum, the creatures here are more "animal-like," meaning they resemble the animals of my original world more than expected. Making noises or sudden movements is enough to scare most creatures away. The real problem is high-level beasts, or packs of low-level beasts. After extensive observation, we've deduced that high-level herbivorous beasts tend to avoid camps, simply because they have no reason to approach.

While high-level carnivorous beasts tend to be more dangerous to settlements like us, these creatures tend to circle the camp for a few days and attempt planned attacks on small groups. Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for us, we have the advantage of being able to fly and an excellent ranger at our side who can track these beasts with relative ease.

For the low-level beast packs, lest just say that they usually don't care much about their "Chances" against a settlement. They look at relative prey and attack. If they can kill it, they eat it; if not, they flee.

It should be simple to reach a consensus on what to do about this problem, but that's not how the hive works. If I don't make a decision and decide exactly what will happen, the members of the inner circle start to engage in an almost endless dispute over what should happen, why, how, when, and if it will happen at all.

If I were some kind of powerful, super-badass boss, it would be easy, but I'm not a strategist, much less a survivalist. Hell, I don't even know if I'm a functional human being, Damn, I'm not even a "human being" anymore. So how the hell do I make the decisions?

The problem is that no one cares about what I feel. The hive seems to pretend to care, maybe they really do, but their opinion will always be favorable to my wishes, so I can't really trust their opinion. The only ones with a little more "free will" are the high-ranking members of the hive, who, well, each has a different opinion, so it's pointless to expect them to reach a consensus.

Hans wants to hunt, eliminate every threat until we are the only living souls in this place. According to him, we don't need other beasts to compete for resources or space when we are a herbivorous species that can live 100% on the land.

This may be true when we look at the "body sustenance" factor, but some resources can only be acquired through hunting and livestock, something Steve constantly emphasizes.

Steve has a more expansionist approach to this. He wants us to capture animals, classify them, raise the best ones as livestock, and release the "useless" ones into the wild. The problem with this plan is that it's extremely costly, both in time, resources, and labor. Not to mention that we don't have the infrastructure for it. It's not a bad plan for the future, but it's also not a viable plan when you sleep on a brick and eat fractionated rations to survive.

Ken wants to focus our resources and time on developing a type of "animal repellent," which seems interesting, until you stop to consider that we, as a species, have kind of fallen into the category of "animals," which suggests that creating a repellent that causes discomfort in animals would also cause discomfort in us. There's also a luck factor here, because creating a functional repellent isn't exactly a matter of will, but rather something more related to testing and more testing, coupled with a long period of research and abundant resources.

Levi, adorably, suggested that we try to reach a peace agreement with the high-level beasts, since—supposedly—high-level beasts must have a certain authority over common and low-level beasts, and even if they didn't, a peace agreement with the high-level beasts would already considerably reduce the level of danger for us.

It's a beautiful plan, but only when you think like a Disney princess. We have no way to regulate an agreement, or ways to make an agreement other than a purely verbal agreement. We also don't speak the beast language, so this option seems beautiful, but it's not really viable.

Jon has a plan that involves fortifying the base with walls, weapons, and a few soldiers. It's not a bad plan, but again, it's not ideal for the situation.

Aldy suggested scattering traps soaked in our most potent poisons throughout the place, as well as creating some scarecrows for the low-level beasts and using magic against the higher-level creatures.

Honestly, this idea doesn't appeal to me much. The main reason is that the traps might end up irritating something too big for them, and although we have plenty of poison available thanks to Aldy, he can't create enough poison himself to make this a viable plan of action.

Trevis opted for silence, which is quite unusual for him. Trevis tends to be the guy with somewhat extreme ideas, but they generally carry some weight. Maybe he's staying silent on purpose just to see what I'll do, maybe he's just tired of the endless arguments like I am.

I don't know. I could know if I wanted to. It's easy for me to extract the truth from my children even when they try to hide it, but I really don't like doing it.

'What should I do?' I asked myself again as I twirled a strand of my hair around my finger. I can't wait for my children to make a decision. I need to be the one to make the decisions. Even if I end up not choosing the best path, it's still better than choosing no path at all.

'I need to create a kind of proxy, someone capable of making decisions on my behalf. Yan is the closest thing I have to a proxy, but he's more interested in gossip and espionage than in government problems. I could create a council with my most capable [Strategists] and have them make the decisions; they can resolve their disagreements with votes and make this machine work better.' I thought, twirling my hair between my fingers and ignoring the background voices.

'Is this a good idea? Leaving the command of the hive to the strategists could turn us into a crazy military dictatorship; they lack the "common sense" factor to deal with daily problems. I also can't leave it in the hands of the inner circle; those guys are crazy about efficiency. Even if we are a genetically fit species for work, I'm not going to sit idly by and wait for my children to start dying of exhaustion.'

"Okay, quiet!" I demanded, clapping my hands to get everyone's attention. Instantly, the murmurs and arguments stopped, and everyone turned their gazes to me. The pressure on me was so intense it felt tangible.

I need to get used to it, whether I like it or not. This is my life now, my responsibility, my duty, and even if it tastes bitter, it is my purpose within the hive. My children need me to be 'this' to survive, and I won't let them die because of my immaturity.

"...We'll do this: The priority will be to build earthen walls. After that, I want Buck and Jasper to dedicate all available time and resources to creating a layer of thorns on the outer side of the wall. I want them to try to create a magical thornbush with poisonous properties. It should be easy to create something of that caliber with life magic and Buck and Jasper's combined knowledge. If they can't create something satisfactory... They can use Yvern's blood as a catalyst for something more destructive. Until the wall is finished, I want Jon's squad patrolling the walls 24/7. Aldy and Zack will follow Jon's orders, serving as air and ground defense. Ral will take on the role of hunter for now; I'll leave Trouble under your command." I said clearly and authoritatively.

On the outside, I appeared intimidating and imperious, so much so that none of my children even questioned my commands. I had to use some of my authority as queen to achieve this effect, but it worked. The thing is, inside, I was on the verge of mental collapse, and so nervous I swear I could choke on my saliva from nervousness alone at any moment.

"Currently, our resources and infrastructure don't allow for more expansionist or exploratory strategies, but as soon as the nest establishes sufficient stability, we will return to research, exploration, and the development of new technologies. This reminds me, Trevis, I will give you the responsibility of finding species of creatures that might be useful to us as livestock. Along with this responsibility, I will grant you enough authority to perform your duties as you see fit. You may take any troops you deem necessary for your mission, but only troops not yet deployed." I said, looking at Trevis.

In response, Trevis nodded and bowed in reverence, saying the simple phrase: "Yes, my queen."

"Hans will remain in the nest as the last line of defense. He will also remain responsible for training new troops and as the supreme authority of the hive's military sector. Any and all orders given by Hans regarding military matters have top priority; any disrespect to this authority will not be tolerated." I said.

The room was quiet for a few seconds, before everyone began to bow to me, saying the same phrase as always: "Yes, my queen."

"Another failure..." I said to myself, looking at the magic scroll in front of me.

The hive is finally back on track; the situation is already at a point we can call a "Safe Point." Of course, we still have to worry about security and resources, but we no longer have a death flag hanging over our heads. So much so that I can focus more intensely on learning more about the common magical system of this world.

I received the fundamentals from Morthak, and a very specific and difficult task to complete. At first, I was too rushed to complete the task as quickly as possible, but now that I stop to breathe, I realize that perhaps the choice to try to rush something that shouldn't be rushed was foolish.

There's no time limit, a due date, or even any urgency to do this. It's simply a challenge given to me by my "teacher" to test my capabilities. So, with this new perspective, I began to go back to basics, review the material I'd already covered, and try new ideas that had emerged between me and the hive.

One of these new "ideas" was the idea of ​​integrating intention magic with circle magic, which in itself... seems like an impossible idea. Intention magic requires... Well, intention. Something that can apparently only be provided by a living thing, so letters and runes aren't considered "intentions," just "commands."

But this is a bit ambiguous, because if we stop to think about it, what is intention? For me, intention is desire, a path, a way of projecting your desires. But intention isn't limited to living beings, at least I don't think so. A card can contain intention and desire within its words, images can carry feelings and emotions, and words carry a command. So why? Why doesn't intention magic accept other forms of activation besides a living user and it's imagination?

Perhaps the common system of magic answers this question. Looking at the runes, magic circles, and spells contained within them, it's clear that this system uses a form of rune language as a modified version of the "intention" of intention magic. So, it must be possible to convert symbols, words, images, and the like into a magical language, but how? How do they do it? Who created the runes? Why do they work?

The questions are endless, and the answers are too shallow for me. The only thing I can do to quench this ever-growing hunger for knowledge that torments me is to turn to myself to find the answers.

Sometimes I completely forget, but I was a librarian when I was human. In the beginning, everything was so magical and unique; I had that sea of ​​books that seemed to contain a hidden world within their pages, where each book was a new adventure and questions to be asked.

I always loved stories. As a child, it was Marvel and Disney comic books; in adolescence, I discovered fantasy, romance, and science fiction books. Everything was so magical, so unique, and so... special. When did that start to feel insufficient? When did that passion begin to die?

I think it was in college; books ceased to be that gateway to an incredible new world and became tar pits trying to drown with so much information at once.

I completed the first and second semesters of a degree in systems analysis and development. It wasn't exactly the best option available on the market, but at that time my mother was already ill, and in an attempt to save money, I opted for something simpler but also with a high chance of return.

The problem was that there was so much code; I had to learn Java and Python by reading huge, heavy hardcover books while spending nights watching YouTube tutorials to create a simple website.

Then money started to get tighter, I needed to work, and among the various crappy jobs with crappy pay, I found one that made me feel... alive. For the first time in a long time.

The position was as a librarian for an old public library. I got the job with the help of a friend of my mother's who worked at the city hall and found out about the position before everyone else. The library itself was a dump, no air conditioning, heaters older than me, dirty fans, computers that looked more like brick blocks, crooked shelves, and a horrible checkered floor with brown carpet.

But it didn't matter, what mattered were the books. That old library was my refuge. I spent so much time there that at some point that place became my home; I was the only permanent employee. Occasionally, people would come to do inventory or collect some books for schools. But generally, it was just me and that old library.

I remember the smell of new books, the smell of old books, how I pretended to be cursed after opening a very old book. Reading historical romances and crying over the protagonists. I remember classifying books, indexing them, and separating them, playing the annoying, bitter librarian, shushing anyone who didn't whisper. I remember how incredible I felt when someone asked for a book and I knew exactly where it was.

Those were good times. But everything has to end sometime. My mother got worse, I had to drop out of college to work more, I took seasonal and temporary jobs, commissions, and basically anything I could find along the way. All while telling myself that it would all be worth it, that when my mother got better things would go back to normal.

But they didn't.

She died, and I think a part of me went with her too. I remember... giving up. I tried so hard, worked so hard to pay for the hospital, only for her to die in the end, and for me to be left with a debt to pay. After that, I buried myself in the library, just living among the books and waiting for my next paycheck. It sucked, but at some point I stopped caring, stopped noticing, and just accepted it.

This led me to the workbench. I had previously tried to create various "Runes" using random symbols written in ink, but nothing worked. But back then, I didn't know how necessary magic ink was to create functional runes.

The ink serves as a kind of magical conductor, acting as a bridge between the physical and the immaterial. I don't know exactly how it works yet, but apparently each rune can create a different type of phenomenon. Alone, they are useless and confusing, like a single musical note, but together, they can form complete "scores" and "songs."

Changing the shape of the runes, even slightly, already results in a different result. Moving the runes just a little bit will only result in a higher cost or a slightly different effect. But by swapping runes around, removing fundamental runes and replacing them, you can either create a different spell or a scroll that only burns magical energy without producing anything in return.

My idea is to try to discover new runes, perhaps even create a new one and define a function for it, but so far, this work has proven... fruitless. No matter what I draw, if it's not a rune taught by Morthak they don't work as they should, I even managed to make some random shapes light up by injecting magic into them, but nothing that works beyond creating a slightly glowing design.

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But despite this failure, I still gained something from this exercise besides a pile of useless scrolls, and that's the knowledge of complex runes. Complex runes—as I call them. They're nothing more than smaller runes, inscribed in a small closed system to produce a more complex effect. This closed system can then be combined with other runes to create a larger, more complex spell, but one that takes up less space.

Honestly, it's a great discovery. With this, I can optimize medium and large spells, making them take up less space on the slip, making room for more destructive power or stability. With this, I also managed to combine two runes with opposing natures on a single scroll. The big problem with two opposing runes on the same scroll is that they sort of compete for dominance in the spell. Because of their opposing natures, they clash, producing either great instability that results in the spell ending or a burned scroll.

But with these advanced runes, I can create two or more closed systems within the same scroll that use the same stability and initiation guidelines, but result in different effects.

Think of it like a computer code that needs to receive the "start" command to begin the code. The problem is that the "start" command causes all the codes in an instance to start at once, which I don't want to happen to avoid a conflict of priorities. The solution? Instead of leaving everything to start when it receives the "Start" command, I create a separate instance that, upon receiving the "start" command, emits a chain signal that activates each of the instances in its proper order and time. Like a timer.

I can also use the same concept to create a repeater, where the spell will run in a loop until the mana depletes the scroll's circuits, or the mana itself runs out.

Not only that! With this, I can also create scrolls with different effects depending on the "Command" provided. For example, I can create a scroll that can either create a bright light or a powerful flame, all depending on the wielder's will.

This is what I can do with the major runes. Although they have a huge impact on the spell's stability, they are very versatile and their uses are practically limitless. I can combine the elements of water and fire to create steam, water and earth to create mud, and so on.

Imagine the possibilities? We can create an artifact that burns mana to produce steam that powers steam engines; we can create brick factories with magically powered production lines; we can create water fountains, magical walls—so many things. Everything is powered by pure magic.

It's all so close to me, I feel like I could reach out and grab it with my bare hands. And if producing resources with magic is possible, then is it possible to convert resources into magic? Is there a way to convert energy into mana? If so, how? Perhaps I can use one of my [Nodes] for the job? They seem to have the natural magical ability to convert foreign energies into magical life energy.

So many possibilities, so many curiosities, it makes me so... Excited? I can't describe it. I've always been so focused on surviving and thinking about the hive that I never stopped to truly process that... This world of magic, a world that functions completely differently from mine, not just the culture and customs, but everything. The laws of the universe, common sense, nature, the world. Everything is different, magical, new.

It's a blank canvas, which I have the chance to paint however I wish, I just need to figure out how.

I was called inside a "Greenhouse"—to be generous. It was essentially Jasper and Buck's makeshift laboratory; the whole place was hastily built with blocks of stone and wax, the roof just crossed sticks with certain areas covered in leaves.

Inside this "Greenhouse," Jasper and Buck had focused on creating some variants of a local plant called [Thorny's]—a vine-like plant that parasitizes trees. It itself has nothing special besides its ability to mimic the appearance of the leaves and fruits of its host, with the difference being that the fruits have the same bitter and disgusting taste, and a slight difference in shape and color.

The wretched thing goes even further, being able to copy the color of the leaves and bark, and even grow by twining around the branches of the parasitized plant to "pretend" to be part of the main plant. The only flaw is that it can't copy anything beyond appearance, so tastes, unique characteristics, or the smell of the original plant remain ways to differentiate one from the other.

That in itself is a great feat; this strange thing can basically mimic its parasite to confuse low-level beasts into eating its "Fake" fruits and spreading its seeds. Interestingly, if it has nothing to parasitize, the [Thorny's] doesn't develop leaves or fruits, only branches with sharp thorns.

It was the perfect choice for a defensive plant. Besides growing quickly, we can pair it with other defensive plants if we want. But this [Thorny's] was too basic for my taste, so I gave Jasper and Buck the mission to mutate it with magic, and here we are.

"My queen, time was too short to produce notable variants, but we were still able to select some interesting individuals for your majesty." Buck said, picking up a hard wax pot with a [Thorny's] variant growing inside it.

[Description]Species: Weeping Thorny'sRarity: UncommunQuality: Fine

Created with the magic of the Feyweavers, Weeping Thorny's is capable of mimicking basic sounds, as well as possessing a delirious toxin and the ability to symbiotically bond with Water-type plants.

"Meh, I don't want a crying plant on my walls, you can send that one to the trash." I said, dismissing that option, in response the plant seemed to emit a small grunt.

"Moving on to the next option..." Jasper said, picking up another plant to show me as Buck exited the scene. "This little beauty here was created by being irrigated with a dilution of awakened wyvern blood mixed with healing substances produced by the [Healers] and a good amount of [Drops of Life]." Jasper said excitedly, presenting me with a small light brown [Thorny's] with white leaves - which in itself was already new, since this plant originally didn't have foliage.

[Description]Species: Glorious Thorny'sRarity: RareQuality: Bad

Created with the Royal magic of the Feyweavers.

Glorious Thorny's increases the Total [Vit] of any {Plant} it is parasitizing by (15)%, and also grants (7) HP regeneration per H. Every (43) Days there is a (3)% chance of a random mutation occurring in the parasitized plant.

The sap of Glorious Thorny's is highly poisonous to any creature that is not of the [Plant] type, can cause: Hallucinations, hunger, bleeding, blindness, or confusion.

"Wow, this plant has quite a description, it almost sounds like an item. But overall... It's not exactly what we're looking for, besides being poisonous to us too, but... It has some juicy bonuses, doesn't it? It would be a waste to discard something so unique, keep it to be used later in a more controlled environment," he said to Jasper.

"Yes, my queen! This particular variant is the one that leaned most towards the 'harmless' side, perhaps because we used the healers' remedy and the drops of life, but I believe the awakened wyvern blood is what caused its more erratic nature," Jasper said, moving to put the plant away.

Soon Buck returned with another pot, this one now containing a variant that had spread across the surface of the pot like a carpet covering all the soil, quite different from its sisters that still grew upwards, this one decided to grow sideways.

[Description]Species: Clingy Thorny'sRarity: UncommunQuality: Good

Created with the magic of the Feyweavers, Clingy Thorny's grows only on surfaces where it can cling; its roots are extremely strong and long, making it difficult to uproot. It carries an extremely potent [Dark] type paralyzing venom, which it uses to incapacitate its prey.

"This one is... interesting?" I said, since its description was quite vague, surprising me how some things can have such detailed descriptions and others be so... bad.

"Well, this little beauty here is quite nasty. It can blend into the surrounding grass and vegetation, so someone unsuspecting can easily be pricked by one of its toxic thorns and end up incapacitated in a mere 7 minutes, depending on the size of the creature," Buck said.

"Wow, this is a great candidate, but its upkeep seems difficult..." I said.

"Well, its branches are soft like vines, and its roots extend throughout the ground like mycelium; it roots itself to the ground as if anchoring itself. Cutting it doesn't work, since an area with several of them can survive even with all the branches torn off, so if we're not careful, it can spread like a plague," Buck said bluntly.

"It possesses a certain mimicry ability like its original counterpart, but in a much smaller version. It's only able to change the color of its stem to match the surrounding vegetation, but its thorns remain the same dark brown color regardless of the mimicked plant," Buck finished.

"Hmm, so for attentive eyes it's easy to spot, and the fact that it grows creeping along the ground means that invaders equipped with boots would easily pass by it. It might serve well as protection against low-level beasts, but it's relatively useless against humans," I deduced.

"Yes, in general its greatest strength is its vitality, since it can't be easily killed and grows relatively quickly," Buck said.

"Okay, we'll use it as one of the protective measures, any other variants?" I asked.

"Yes!" "Jasper exclaimed, appearing as Buck went to put away the plant pot he was carrying. In his hands, he carried a pot containing another variant, this time with a dark green color and grayish-beige thorns, very similar to rose bushes.

[Description]Species: Devourer Thorny's[Information]Rarity: EpicLevel: 1Life: 13.1Int: 0.1Quality: HorribleMana: 1.2Vit: 10.5Def: 0.7

Created with the Royal magic of the Feyweavers and the Forbidden magic of the heretics, a Devourer Thorny's is capable of absorbing magical energy from its prey to produce a poison that causes the effect: [Rot] on anyone who touches its thorns.

It possesses a low level of intelligence, instinctively attacking any creature that is not part of the █████ ███████.

"What the hell am I looking at now? Is this an item... a living being? What?" I asked, astonished.

"We call this one Ivy. This little one was born after successive rounds of concentrated wyvern blood and drops of life. It was very laborious, to tell the truth. Most plants died as soon as they came into contact with the wyvern blood, or rotted from the sudden surge of drops of life, but Ivy survived, and in the process seems to have become a plant monster," Jasper said animatedly, something that was totally new, since Jasper was usually extremely reserved and not very talkative.

I looked at this... "thing" for a few moments, waiting for a sign of life, but nothing. It didn't look any different from a rose branch without a rose. The plant itself looked a little neglected, having spots here and there and what appeared to be scars. Perhaps these were its "battle scars" for having survived Buck and Jasper's experiments.

"This little beauty has a taste for blood; she works like a cautious predator, attacking her prey with a swift strike by enveloping it in her vines and squeezing it to death. In her current state, she only feeds on low-level creatures, but I have high expectations for this child in the future. I mean, look at her, isn't she adorable?" Jasper said, his eyes sparkling as he took flight just to bring the vase close to my face, as if showing me a kitten and not a flesh-eating plant.

'Mental note: Jasper has a "peculiar" taste for cute things.'

"Eeerr... This thing—"

"Thing?" Jasper said, slightly offended. "Her name is Ivy."

"Hmm. Ivy, is she safe? Like, what are the chances you'd say that if we let her grow, she'll devour us all while we sleep in the future? High, low?" I asked, already wanting to throw this "Thing" away.

Jasper was visibly offended by the insinuation, frowning in displeasure, something that would be extremely difficult to perceive if I weren't of the same species as him. "Ivy would never do such a thing! She's a good and kind girl," Jasper said, stroking the plant with his finger. In response, the branch began to tremble as small vines began to emerge from the ground to wrap around Jasper's finger.

"See! She loves me!" he said.

"Are you sure that th- Ivy. Isn't she just trying to eat your finger?" I asked with genuine curiosity, because in my view it looked like one of those situations where a cat is biting your hand and you think it's because it likes you, until it bites hard enough for you to realize it was just trying to eat you.

"Of course not! If she were trying to eat me, she would have already injected her lethal venom, wouldn't she, Ivy?" Jasper said in a sickeningly affectionate way to the plant.

Honestly, it's quite strange to see Jasper like this; he's normally cold and distant, a little weird and somewhat crazy. But affectionate? That's new, and disconcerting.

"Look, I can't allow this thing—Ivy—to remain in the hive if she represents a risk to us, so I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me that this thing—Ivy, with her strange and somewhat broken deformation, born of "Heregy"—which in itself is not a good sign—is not a risk to all of us," he said.

Jasper looked at the thing as if pondering for a few seconds before speaking with conviction: "I'm absolutely certain that Ivy wouldn't harm us in any way. Maybe she kills other things, but even with every chance, she's never attacked a member of the hive."

"Maybe because she's the size of a twig? So from that thing's perspective—Ivy, it would be like a human trying to take down an elephant?" I asked.

"Maybe, but I feel not. There's no empirical evidence to support my claim, besides the fact that any beast, when threatened, will attack, regardless of what it attacks, and whether its attack has any effect in the end. But Ivy has never attacked one of us, even when threatened. She's a good companion to me, she likes to drink my potions and holds my tools for me while I work. She's not part of the hive, but she's still a friend, and I don't feel any threat near her." Jasper said it as if he were trying to make me feel guilty so I wouldn't order his partner killed.

"Jasper, even if she's not dangerous, it must be difficult to take care of her as time goes by and this thing grows. You already work with potions and bombs, what do you know about gardening? Or even beast care? Or beast gardening?" she said, trying to convince him that this was a bad idea.

"Ivy is like a pet, she doesn't have enough intelligence to be threatening, or even plot schemes against anyone. She just follows her primal instincts, so as long as we keep her fed, clean, and well-maintained, she'll be happy and calm!" Jasper argued.

"That's not a pet! It's a flesh-eating plant, by the heavens!" he said.

"Correction! It's a BLOOD-eating plant, not a FLESH-eating plant!" Jasper said as if that improved the situation.

"You don't have time to take care of this, pets should be cared for by their owners! Are you just going to pass the responsibility of caring for this thing on to your brothers?" I asked.

"You have that two-headed snake, and the ranchers take care of it, why couldn't they do the same for Ivy?" Jasper retorted.

'Ugh'

Jasper just looked at me silently as if waiting for my answer. He didn't throw a tantrum or try to be adorable like some hive members did when they wanted me to do something. He just looked at me and waited for an answer.

'Damn, that's why I didn't like kids when I was human, those sneaky little rascals with adorable puppy-dog eyes.'

"Ugh, fine, keep this thing under control. It will be planted as the hive's main line of defense. Its care will be your responsibility, and if it hurts anyone in the hive, it will be executed immediately," I said dryly.

Jasper seemed genuinely happy, even though the last part seemed to make him uncomfortable.

"I won't let something like that happen, my queen! I'll prove to you that Ivy is a loyal and lovely companion!" exclaimed Jasper, leading his "friend" to a shelf to sunbathe.

'I hope I don't regret this.'

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