The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 281: The Contamination (2) Dissecting

Vyrelda’s sharp voice cut through the heavy silence.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her tone a mixture of incredulity and caution. The others turned their eyes to Mikhailis, who stood in the midst of the grotesque remains of the corrupted monsters. The flickering firelight cast long shadows across his figure, illuminating the steady movements of his hands.

Mikhailis’s glasses caught a faint glint of light, reflecting the subtle data projections only he could see. His specialized blade, sleek and faintly glowing, moved with a surgeon’s precision as he worked through the creatures’ mutilated forms. He didn’t bother to look up, letting the question hang in the air for a moment before responding.

"Sorting out dinner," he muttered dryly, slicing into a bloated direwolf’s belly. A rush of greenish-purple ichor oozed out, the stench enough to make the others take a collective step back.

"Dinner?" Lira’s usually composed voice cracked slightly. "You can’t be serious." Her elegant posture faltered as she took another hesitant step away from the pile of remains.

"It’s a joke, Lira," Mikhailis said, glancing her way with a faint smirk.

"Mostly." He returned his focus to the task at hand, his blade slicing cleanly through the bloated tissue to reveal what looked like an intact organ within.

"Mostly?" Vyrelda’s voice dropped an octave, her hands tightening around the hilt of her massive sword.

"You’re not seriously planning on eating that, are you?"

Mikhailis didn’t answer immediately. His fingers worked with meticulous precision, his mind churning through possibilities as he examined the grotesque anatomy before him. The creatures were a testament to something unnatural—an eerie blend of malevolent intent and unrelenting chaos. Each incision, each dissection, revealed more about their horrific transformation.

These things were exposed to something powerful, he thought, his brows knitting in concentration. And intentional. The patterns don’t look random… Someone made this happen.

As if responding to his unspoken thoughts, Rodion’s calm, detached voice filled his ears.

<Based on initial scans, the corruption stems from alchemical contamination. Traces of technomantic interference detected in tissue samples. Specific origin undetermined, though patterns suggest controlled testing rather than incidental exposure.>

Mikhailis paused, holding up a section of sinew shot through with greenish-purple veins that pulsed faintly even after death. The faint acrid scent of decay mixed with something sharper, almost metallic. He tilted his head slightly, as though the angle might reveal more.

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"Controlled testing," he murmured under his breath, his voice low enough to go unnoticed by the others. His blade sliced through the tissue, exposing the internal structure. Instead of the clean severing of natural muscle, the cut revealed pockets of an oily, iridescent fluid that gleamed unnaturally in the firelight.

<Confirmed: Alchemical contaminants present in the fluid. Corruption likely enhanced through localized diffusion mechanisms. Hypothesis: Contaminants were introduced into a controlled environment to observe transformation rates and resilience thresholds.>

Mikhailis’s lips pressed into a thin line as he scraped some of the fluid into a small vial, sealing it with a practiced motion.

So someone’s playing god, he thought grimly, setting the vial aside and returning to his work.

<Based on initial scans, the corruption stems from alchemical contamination. Traces of technomantic interference detected in tissue samples. Specific origin undetermined, though patterns suggest controlled testing rather than incidental exposure.>

Controlled testing, Mikhailis thought, his brow furrowing. Figures. He continued working, carving away the greenish-purple flesh—poisonous, judging by its texture and the faint acrid smell—and separating it from the rest of the tissue. A pile of what he classified as "neutral" limbs began to form beside him, twisted and grotesque but free of the venomous hue.

"Intentional contamination," he muttered, shaking his head slightly. His glasses reflected faint projections of data streaming from Rodion, providing a near-invisible interface overlaying the grotesque scene.

<Not merely contamination. Observational patterns suggest iterative experimentation. Adaptations observed in biological response indicate a feedback loop within the contamination process. Probability of technomantic involvement: 84%.>

Mikhailis frowned, his fingers hesitating over a hardened section of jagged flesh. The edges of the tissue were fused, as though seared by heat, yet the surface shimmered faintly, giving the appearance of being alive. His blade hesitated, hovering just above the corrupted surface.

Feedback loop? he thought, trying to piece together the implications. Are they testing how fast it spreads, or how far it can be pushed?

He finally made a shallow cut, extracting a small fragment of the fused tissue. The moment it was removed, the piece began to dissolve, breaking down into a viscous, tar-like substance that hissed faintly as it hit the container.

<Fragment decomposition triggered by exposure to oxygen. Suggests structural instability under natural atmospheric conditions. Estimated decomposition time: 18 seconds post-extraction.>

"Lovely," Mikhailis muttered, securing the lid on the container just in time. His gaze flicked to another creature—a jagged serpent with scales that seemed fused with stone. Its fangs were unnaturally elongated, dripping with a dark liquid that pooled below its head. He crouched closer, his blade shifting to pry one of the fangs loose.

<Warning: Liquid contains high concentrations of neurotoxins. Direct contact may result in paralysis or systemic collapse. Exercise caution.>

"Thanks for the heads-up," he whispered, wrapping the fang in a cloth before placing it in another container. He turned the creature slightly, examining the areas where the stone-like scales merged into softer, corrupted flesh. The transition was seamless, as though it had been designed that way.

This isn’t natural. Someone tailored these mutations, he thought, a cold chill creeping into his thoughts. But for what purpose?

Rodion’s voice interrupted again, this time carrying an edge of intrigue. Continue your journey with novelbuddy

<Observed tissue patterns suggest external manipulation targeting adaptive traits. The corruption prioritizes aggression, durability, and resistance to environmental factors while suppressing higher cognitive functions. Intent appears to focus on maximizing destructive potential.>

Mikhailis exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. Weapons. These things were turned into weapons. His jaw tightened as he sliced deeper into another specimen—a twisted elk with antlers overgrown by toxic moss. Each movement of his blade revealed more unnatural modifications: swollen muscle fibers, calcified joints, and veins clogged with shimmering fluid.

<Swollen musculature and calcified joints indicate prioritization of physical force over mobility. Probable design objective: creating shock units for direct confrontations.>

The weight of Rodion’s analysis settled heavily in his mind. Direct confrontations? Against who? His stomach turned slightly as the implications unfolded. This wasn’t just about controlling monsters—it was preparation for something far bigger.

His blade paused again over another section of greenish-purple flesh. The corrupted veins writhed faintly, even in death, and he felt a wave of unease ripple through him. "Rodion, give me toxicity levels."

<Analyzing… Results indicate toxicity level at 92%. Direct contact likely to cause necrosis. Material unsuitable for ingestion or handling without protective measures.>

"Good to know," Mikhailis murmured, his tone laced with sarcasm. He carefully isolated the flesh, moving it to the ever-growing pile of "poisonous" material.

<Recommendation: Neutralize contaminated zones immediately to prevent secondary exposure. Risk of airborne diffusion increases with prolonged handling.>

Mikhailis shook his head. "Noted. Just don’t start lecturing me about efficiency, Rodion."

<Observation: Efficiency is notably lacking. Proceeding at this pace increases likelihood of environmental contamination by 16%.>

"Love you too, Rodion," Mikhailis muttered, earning a curious glance from Lira. He ignored her, his focus returning to a section of uncorrupted tissue. This one was rare—small pockets of flesh unmarred by the corruption. He set it aside with care, labeling it as "edible."

<Edible tissues possess minimal contamination. Residual toxins can be neutralized through high-heat preparation. Potential nutritional value remains moderate.>

Mikhailis smirked faintly. Always the optimist, aren’t you? He worked steadily, his mind cataloging every detail. Each piece of evidence brought him closer to understanding the scale of what they were dealing with—and how much worse it could get.

Lira’s voice broke his concentration.

"Your Highness, you’re just… you’re carving them up like it’s normal."

"If I don’t, how are we supposed to figure out what’s safe and what’s not?" he replied, his tone calm but firm. "I’m not risking all of us starving when we have—potentially—usable resources right here."

"Usable?" Estella chimed in, her expression one of pure disbelief.

"You’re calling this usable?" She gestured vaguely at the macabre piles around him.

"Would you rather I leave it all to rot?" he asked, not looking up. His hands moved deftly, extracting an uncorrupted organ from the twisted elk carcass before placing it in a small container.

"These parts aren’t as affected. I’d call that a win."

Cerys, who had been watching silently, crossed her arms.

"You’re awfully calm about this."