The sound came first.
Not from afar — from within. It wasn't a noise that pierced the ears, but a buzzing that clung to the inside of his mind. As if the air itself were alive, as if it were breathing. Hot, heavy, impatient breath.
He opened his eyes.
There was no sky. Only hazy light, fragmented sunrays slipping through tree branches, and above him, slowly swaying dark shadows. For a moment, he was stunned. He felt the existence of the ground — not cold, but alien. Dry leaves crumpled beneath his hands, producing a soft rustle.
Then the smell hit him.
Bitter. Sour. Like iron.
And finally — movement.
He tried to stir, but his body refused to obey at once. As though every muscle were sleeping separately. His chest tightened. His breath shortened. His heart began to beat faster — far too fast.
The buzzing intensified.
Now he understood: it wasn't the wind.
It was bees.
He saw the first one. On his shoulder. Its red-black body glinted in the sunlight. Its wings were transparent, yet they carried no trace of mercy. The bee tilted its head, as if sniffing him, and remained motionless for an instant.
Then the second.
The third.
The fourth.
He tried to stand. But at that moment pain exploded in his wrist. Like a hot needle piercing his skin. He wanted to scream, but no sound came. Only a choked rasp escaped his throat.
The bee flew away.
In panic he staggered forward, unknowingly approaching the tree trunk — and brushed against the beehive.
The air filled instantly. The buzzing enveloped everything. The sound of wings overwhelmed his ears. He opened his eyes wide and then he saw them.
Dozens.
No.
Hundreds.
Black-red dots began swirling in the sky. They converged toward one center — toward him.
—No… — he said inwardly, knowing his voice wouldn't come out.
The second sting exploded in his neck.
The third — on his face.
The fourth — under his arm.
The pain was no longer separate points. It came in waves — hot, scorching, devouring him from the inside. His heart raced even faster. His breath came in ragged gasps. He lost balance and collapsed to the ground.
Then time slowed.
His mind began to work strangely. They say that when death approaches, a person sees their entire life. He had heard it before but never believed it.
Now, however…
Suddenly he was ten years old again.
A narrow courtyard. Surrounded by many children — an orphanage. Rentaro had stood out among his peers since childhood. He learned very quickly. His father had been a powerful hunter, his mother a famous and beautiful actress. But he had been born out of wedlock.
Called unnecessary. And abandoned.
Then school.
The front row of the desk. A black-haired, handsome boy. The teacher would ask questions, but he wouldn't answer. Even when he did, it felt meaningless. His classmates respected him.
Silent.
The pain returned.
A bee stung his knee. He instinctively pulled his leg back. That movement acted like a signal — the entire swarm attacked at once.
His face felt as though it were swelling. His eyes burned. His vision narrowed steadily.
Another memory.
Middle school years. Morning cold. The roof of the school building. Almost every child in school feared him. He was strong, but aimless. Often he simply beat other kids — trying to vent the resentment toward his parents.
He always trained to calm his heart.
But now…
His body refused to obey.
His hands began to tremble. His breath came in noisy bursts. His heart pounded as if it would burst from his chest. Each beat — heavy and irregular.
He understood.
This was the end.
How foolish. How ordinary. At least dying at the hands of bees he had once liked wasn't so bad. No great enemy. No grand battle.
He hadn't even wanted to become a hunter. What would that have given him? What was the meaning of his life?
He felt like laughing.
But he couldn't.
"So this is it," he thought. "My whole life…"
Then suddenly rage awakened inside him. Slow, cold rage. He wanted to fight. It didn't matter against whom. What mattered was the fight. Because that was the best thing he could do.
A bee stung again.
This time — right over his heart.
The pain was different. Deeper. His breath stopped completely. His vision darkened.
The buzzing seemed to recede into the distance.
He thought one last time:
If I had the chance to start over… I would want to become a warrior. For myself.
And with that thought, the light in his eyes faded. His breath ceased.
Everything went out.
In an instant, all was plunged into darkness.
Absolute, boundless darkness.
In the next moment — Rentaro opened his eyes.
There was no darkness. On the contrary, boundless light filled every space. Blinding, limitless, dazzling white radiance. No ground, no sky. Only light and void.
Rentaro froze in astonishment.
What kind of place was this?
Did everyone come here after death…?
He looked around. Forward. To the sides. And finally turned behind him.
His eyes widened.
Before him stood a silhouette.
An eight-pointed, absolutely black star. So black that even light could not escape it. Rays approached it, only to be swallowed and vanish.
And in front of the star stood an enormous throne.
Upon the throne sat a figure dressed like two kings or emperors combined, exuding an aura that seemed to press down the very heavens. His form was not clearly visible, yet his mere presence exerted overwhelming pressure.
Rentaro understood nothing. This was no dream. Nor was it imagination.
Then a voice resounded.
Deep. Heavy. Like a command.
—The Black Star Monarch offers you a gift. Will you accept it?
—Yes. Or no.
Rentaro was still stunned. Yet inside him there was a strange calm. As though he had been waiting for this question all along.
Who was the Black Star Monarch?
A gift… it must be something good…
—I… accept! — he shouted. — But what kind of gift?!
In that instant he closed his eyes once.
And opened them.
The throne, the star, the Monarch — as though they had never existed, were gone.
When he opened his eyes a second time…
Darkness.
His body was tightly constricted. No air. His breath suffocated. Instinct awakened. The instinct to survive.
He kicked the wall. Struck it. Scratched it. With every blow his panic grew.
He had to get out.
Suddenly a crack appeared in the wall. Light pierced through. Rentaro struck that spot again with all his strength.
And finally — he broke through.
Death should have been silent.
But it was noisy.
A signal tone rang in his ears. His body felt absent. No pain. No cold. Only motion. And somewhere — swarms of bees.
Instinct. Escape. Flight.
My eyes… — he thought.
The world was strange. Far too vast. Far too bright. The sky endless, the air thick with heavy scents.
He sensed something on his back.
…Wings?
His body trembled. He looked down.
No hands.
No legs.
Instead — a small yellow-black body.
—No… — he thought.
His voice did not come out.
Because he — was a bee.
[System Message]
You have connected to the "Modern World" server.
Race: Ordinary Bee
Evolution Level: 0
Number of Deaths: 1 (previous life)
Previous life…
He had once watched bees with curiosity. That was why he had approached their hive. But they were not ordinary bees.
Killer bees.
Damn it…
So he had died.
And been reborn as the lowest creature.
Yet inside him there was a strange certainty.
Whatever the gift from the Black Star Monarch was…
I want to fight.
For myself.
He closed his eyes and focused on his wings.
Bzzzzzzzz — slowly flapping, he began to fly, but lost balance, fell from the hive, and landed on something right in front of him.
A single drop of nectar.
For an ordinary bee — life.
For him — the first step.
[System Message]
Nectar consumed.
Energy +1
Evolution Experience +0.3
At that moment he understood.
This was his second chance.
Around him were hundreds of bees. They obeyed commands only. They did not think. They did not choose.
But he…
He could remember.
He could think.
He could plan.
Even as a bee —
he was no longer an ordinary being.
This world was filled with humans, cities, skyscrapers. Dungeons, strange creatures, hunters…
And he — against them all.
None of them knew…
That inside a single bee, a human mind had awakened.