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Over in Antrinia, God-Maker’s world…
“Huff! Huff!”
Maya was running through the forest, panting heavily.
“Keekeekee!”
“Hahaha! Bitch, are you a bee or a snail? Run faster, would you!”
Buzz! Buzz!
The imperial rangers, the Wasp Unit, were chasing after Maya. However, they didn’t look the slightest bit in a hurry. Like a cat teasing a cornered mouse, they were simply toying with her before killing her.
“Hic! Hic!”
Tears blurred her vision as her legs threatened to give out. The distance between her and the rangers were closing in. As a member of the Bee Tribe, she wasn’t one for running, but…
“Slaves do not need wings!”
After capturing them, the first thing the empire did was rip off their wings. For the Bee Tribe, who had free reign over the sky, nothing was more humiliating than that. Maya also lost her wings on the same day.
The Empire worked the bees to the bone, giving them no rest. The weak and the old were eaten by the army when they underperformed. Every day was a living hell for them. Until one day, a peculiar song spread through the tribe.
Pitiful...
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