The shift ended. The tunnel lights dimmed. The last slaves collapsed into sleep. The overseers slithered away - into their domain. And Jackob followed them.
He moved with calculated confidence, just another insect among insects, his limbs twitching just right, his face locked in that permanent smirk of alien cruelty. No one questioned him.
He reached a massive arched hallway, carved in black stone and veined with glowing fungus. Bug overseers moved in and out of numbered doors. He watched them carefully.
"Living quarters," he thought. "They sleep. They eat. They live... just like us. But worse."
Room 24. He pulled out the small metal key he'd looted from Kol's corpse. Stamped crudely on it: 24. It fit the lock perfectly.
Inside was... disappointing. A cold stone room, barely the size of a prison cell. A metal bed. A desk. A storage crate. Nothing more. No decorations. No food. No scent of comfort.
"This is it?" Jackob thought, closing the door. "This is what they return to?"
He sat on the edge of the bed. And for the first time since his shapeshift... he exhaled. Then - it happened again. The Runes Returned.
As his breathing slowed, light sparked behind his eyes. Runes. Floating. Familiar. Unstoppable.
NAME: JACKOB
TYPE: YELLOW BUG (SHAPESHIFTED)
AGE: 4 YEARS
LIFESPAN: 12 YEARS
TALENT: SHAPESHIFTING (YELLOW BUG / HUMAN)
> CHOOSE TARGET FORM:
• HUMAN
• YELLOW BUG
"Four years?" Jackob whispered. "I'm four years old? Twelve years lifespan? That's it?"
He stared at the glowing numbers. A lifetime - twelve years. Most of them were already nearly dead.
"What the hell are they doing here?"
"Why dig? Why breed? Why waste their short lives in this hole?"
His thoughts spun. "Is it the red stone? Do they eat it? Does it extend life? Is that why they keep us alive - to mine it?"
Too many questions. But one thing was certain: He couldn't stay like this.
He stared at the rune line:
> CHOOSE TARGET FORM:
• HUMAN
• YELLOW BUG
For a moment, he hesitated. Being the Overseer gave him power. Safety. Access. But the thought of staying in this shell... The chitin. The wings. The idea of... mating. He shuddered.
"No fucking way. I'd rather die than lay eggs." He smirked bitterly. "Back to human."
He selected HUMAN. Instantly, the world warped in purple light. His body shrank. The insect limbs crumbled. Wings folded into dust. And in the silence that followed... He stood naked in the dark. Human again.
He flexed his fingers. Ran his hand down his face. Everything was there. Normal. Warm. Except for one new rune on his palm: Form: Yellow Bug (Stored)
He exhaled in relief. "I'm not trapped," he muttered. "I can change back. Hide in plain sight."
But then the reality hit him. "I can't sleep like this. If they find me like this... it's over."
And so - reluctantly, silently - Jackob chose again. Back to Yellow Bug. The light returned. The limbs regrew. And he slipped into the nightmare once more.
But now... he understood the rules. He had a home. He had a form. He had a lie.
Tomorrow, he would begin infiltration for real. "No risk, no freedom," he whispered. And shut his alien eyes.
Here's the continuation following your exact formatting requests:
Thirty cycles passed. Jackob was no longer Jackob. He was Kol, the Yellow Overseer - at least, that's what everyone believed. He walked the halls with practiced ease, spoke in sharp commands, and punished just enough slaves to stay unnoticed. He didn't make friends. He didn't make enemies. He played the role perfectly because Kol had been a loner - antisocial, quiet, efficient.
"Dead and forgotten," Jackob thought. "The perfect mask."
Through careful observation, he learned Moon Mine 6 was just one of seventeen moons orbiting Tarsyx. The Yellow Bugs' entire empire ran on redstone - fuel, medicine, possibly even life extension. But the deeper they dug, the stranger the stone became.
Worse, the Yellow Bugs were locked in endless war with the Red Bugs - larger, tougher, and vicious beyond reason. Jackob found himself trapped in a conflict he didn't care about, mining material he didn't understand, on a rock he couldn't escape.
Every escape plan failed. Patrols. Sensors. Orbiting drones. Only one path remained - the monthly supply ship piloted by Prime Kolgar, the mine's boss.
"I can't escape this mine," Jackob realized. "But Kolgar leaves... and comes back."
The dangerous thought took root: "What if Kolgar never came back?"