The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis charged toward the Goblin Apostle, his feet pounding the broken ground as he dashed forward. The massive creature loomed before him, its grotesque figure bathed in the swirling glow of green energy, dark magic and holy light mixed together in an unnatural, chilling way. From a distance, Serelith's spells were already crackling through the air—bolts of black flame and shards of ice. She was doing everything she could to keep the Apostle off-balance, to help Mikhailis land a decisive strike.

But coordinating with Serelith was proving to be much harder than Mikhailis had anticipated. They'd never fought side-by-side like this before, and it quickly became clear that their styles were worlds apart. Serelith's magic was unpredictable, her spells flowing with an erratic intensity that mirrored her personality—wild, mischievous, powerful. Mikhailis found himself struggling to keep up, to match his movements with the timing of her attacks.

He lunged forward, aiming for the Apostle's exposed side, only to have a bolt of Serelith's fire shoot past him, forcing him to pull back. The Goblin Apostle swung its massive blade, the air around it vibrating with the force of the blow. Mikhailis barely managed to dodge, dropping into a roll and springing back to his feet, his eyes narrowing.

Come on, Serelith, work with me here.

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"Hey Goblin, stay on your toes!" Serelith shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos of the battlefield. Her tone was teasing, almost playful, despite the seriousness of the fight. She unleashed another wave of magic, this time a blast of black ice that crackled as it shot toward the Apostle.

"I'm trying, woman!" Mikhailis yelled back, his voice strained. He darted in again, using the distraction from Serelith's attack to get closer. His knife flashed, aiming for the Apostle's knee, but the creature moved, its monstrous arm swiping down. Mikhailis leaped back just in time, his feet skidding against the dirt. He could feel his muscles starting to strain, his legs growing heavy.

Coordinating with Serelith was like trying to solve a puzzle while being punched in the face. He had to keep track of her movements, anticipate where her spells would land, and somehow dodge the Apostle's relentless attacks—all at the same time. The constant mental strain was wearing on him, each second feeling like a battle in itself. His eyes darted to Serelith, watching as she twirled her hands, conjuring flames that shot out toward the Apostle.

Okay, I need to figure out her rhythm… Mikhailis thought, his breath coming in quick bursts.

He forced himself to focus, watching the patterns in Serelith's magic. She moved with a strange sort of grace, her spells unpredictable but somehow fluid, almost like a dance. He just had to find the rhythm, to fall in step with her.

He took a deep breath and moved in again, this time trying to time his movements with Serelith's attacks. As she fired another burst of ice, Mikhailis darted to the side, positioning himself at the Apostle's flank. The creature turned, its glowing eyes locking onto him, and Mikhailis felt the air shift as it prepared to strike. He ducked low, his knife flashing upward, aiming for the exposed underside of its arm.

The blade bit into flesh, and the Apostle let out a roar, swinging its arm in a wide arc. Mikhailis barely managed to dodge, rolling out of the way just as the massive blade crashed into the ground where he'd been standing. He sprang to his feet, his chest heaving.

"Nice one!" Serelith called out, her eyes glinting with excitement. She raised her hands, her fingers curling as black vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around the Apostle's legs.

Mikhailis nodded, forcing a grin.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"Thanks. Just… keep that up."

But despite their efforts, the Goblin Apostle showed no signs of weakening. Its resilience was staggering—every time Mikhailis landed a blow, the green energy seemed to pulse around it, healing the wound almost instantly. The creature's movements were still powerful, each swing of its weapon forcing Mikhailis to jump back, to keep his distance. Even Serelith's magic, as potent as it was, seemed to barely make a dent.

Mikhailis could feel his legs growing heavier, the fatigue setting in. He'd been pushing himself to keep up with Serelith, to match her attacks, but the constant dodging, the mental strain—it was all starting to take its toll. He could hear his breath coming in ragged gasps, his muscles screaming at him to stop, to rest.

The Apostle swung its weapon in a wide arc, and Mikhailis leaped to the side, barely avoiding the strike. He landed hard, his knees buckling under the impact, his vision blurring for a moment. He blinked, trying to steady himself, to focus.

And then, amidst the chaos, he heard it. A voice, faint at first, but unmistakable.

<Mikhailis.>

Mikhailis froze, his eyes widening. He could feel a faint connection in his mind, something that felt familiar—and then, the voice grew clearer.

Mikhailis let out a breath, a shaky grin spreading across his face.

"Took you long enough," he muttered under his breath, ducking behind a broken wall for cover as the Apostle's blade swung over his head.

<Establishing a connection while you are surrounded by that level of magical interference is… challenging,>

Rodion replied, his tone almost indignant.

<But I've been observing through Her Majesty's glasses.>

Mikhailis blinked, his mind racing.

Elowen's glasses…?

He pictured her, the way she always seemed to have them on, and he couldn't help but smile.

"She never takes them off, does she? Except when she's sleeping," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

<Rather observant of you,>

Rodion said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

<Now listen carefully. I have a full analysis of the Goblin Apostle's abilities and strengths. I've identified a pattern in how it heals itself, as well as the cooldown periods for its major attacks.>

Mikhailis's eyes narrowed, his breath coming faster.

"Alright, give it to me. What's the plan?"

<The Apostle's healing ability draws on the ambient energy of the fallen goblins,>

<It follows a specific pattern, healing at intervals of approximately every thirty seconds, during which its defensive capabilities are significantly reduced. This creates a brief window of vulnerability—you must time your strikes precisely.>

Mikhailis listened intently, nodding as Rodion spoke, his eyes darting to the Goblin Apostle. The creature was still swinging its weapon, its movements brutal, but there was a rhythm to it—a rhythm that Mikhailis could use.

<Additionally,>

Rodion continued,

<its magical energy is focused on maintaining both offensive and defensive spells simultaneously. This puts a strain on its core. If you can force it to use its energy—to switch from offense to defense repeatedly—you may be able to exhaust it.>

Mikhailis grinned, a wide, confident smile spreading across his face.

"Perfect," he muttered. He turned his gaze to the Apostle, his eyes narrowing, determination setting in.

The Goblin Apostle, noticing the change in Mikhailis's demeanor, tilted its head slightly, the green light in its eyes flickering.

"What. You. Smiling. For?" it rumbled, its voice low and guttural.

Mikhailis tightened his grip on his knife, dropping into a low stance. He could feel the tension in the air, the way the energy seemed to crackle around them. He glanced at Serelith, who was watching him, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Get ready," Mikhailis called out, his voice steady.

The Goblin Apostle, as if sensing the seriousness of the moment, shifted its stance as well, its massive form looming over Mikhailis. The creature's eyes locked onto him, and for a brief moment, Mikhailis saw something there—a flicker of uncertainty, of fear. Perhaps it understood, on some primal level, that this hobgoblin was different. Dangerous.

Mikhailis's grin widened. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath, and then—he dashed.

He moved like a blur, his body a blur of motion as he rushed toward the Apostle. The creature raised its weapon, dark energy swirling around it, but Mikhailis was faster. He ducked low, his feet pounding against the ground as he moved in, his eyes focused on the Apostle's weak points.

Serelith, seeing his movement, reacted instantly. Her hands moved in a blur, black flames and ice erupting from her fingers. The spells struck the Apostle's legs, freezing them in place for a split second—just enough time for Mikhailis to move in.

He leaped, his knife aimed at the exposed joint at the back of the Apostle's neck. The blade struck true, sinking into the soft flesh, and the Apostle let out a roar of pain, its body convulsing. Mikhailis didn't stop. He twisted his body, using the momentum to drive his knife into the creature's underarm, the blade biting deep.

The Goblin Apostle swung its arm, trying to dislodge him, but Mikhailis was already moving. He dropped to the ground, rolling away as the Apostle's arm came crashing down, missing him by inches.

"Now!" Mikhailis shouted, his voice echoing across the battlefield.

Serelith raised her hands, her eyes narrowing as she focused. Black ice shot out, wrapping around the Apostle's weapon, freezing it in place. Mikhailis took the opportunity, darting in once more, his knife flashing as he struck at the Apostle's exposed side.

The blade sank in, and for the first time, Mikhailis felt the resistance give way. The green glow in the Apostle's eyes flickered, the energy around it beginning to waver. He gritted his teeth, his muscles straining as he drove the knife deeper, his entire body trembling with the effort.

The Goblin Apostle let out one final roar, its body shuddering. Mikhailis could feel the energy dissipating, the dark magic fading as the creature's strength began to ebb. He could see it in the Apostle's eyes—the fear, the realization that it was losing.

Mikhailis took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he focused.

"This is it," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He pulled back, his knife aimed at the base of the Apostle's skull. He could feel the energy building, the adrenaline surging through his veins.

And then, with a final, powerful thrust, he plunged the knife into the base of the Goblin Apostle's skull. The blade sank deep, severing the dark energy that had been sustaining it. The green glow faded from its eyes, the massive creature collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.

Mikhailis stood over the fallen Apostle, his entire body trembling from exhaustion. Every muscle ached, his legs felt like they were about to give out. He could feel the pain ringing through his body, but none of it mattered. They had won. It was over.

He looked over at Serelith, who was breathing heavily, her eyes locked on him. She gave him a nod, a small smile playing on her lips. Mikhailis allowed himself a tired grin in return, his vision blurring slightly as the adrenaline began to fade.

"I'm so… damn tired," he muttered, his body finally giving in. He collapsed, his consciousness still intact, but his body too exhausted to move. He lay there, staring up at the sky, the sounds of the battlefield fading into the background.

It was over—for now.