A low, pulsing hum filled the throne room—subtle, almost imperceptible. But Meruem noticed it immediately.

His pupils narrowed as the egg rocked again, this time with more purpose.

Sharp cracks spiderwebbed across the surface, each one releasing a soft hiss of air, like the shell itself was exhaling after holding its breath for far too long.

The egg, once unmoving and a source of silent irritation, now trembled gently against the smooth stone it rested upon.

Thin lines branched across the surface like veins, light pressing out from within in weak, flickering pulses.

He sat up straighter.

The annoyance that clouded his gaze moments ago was replaced by something colder, more calculated. Not excitement. Not hope. Interest.

His curiosity was a dangerous thing—when stirred, it demanded answers, demanded results. Would this one be a soldier? A monster? A failure?

Meruem didn’t move, didn’t even blink. But inside, his thoughts surged. Will it be strong? Useful? Intelligent? Or just another mindless soldier…

His tail flicked once against the marble beside his throne.

The egg shifted violently, then stilled. Seconds passed like centuries. The Chimera King did not blink.

Then, with a sudden snap, a piece of the shell flew loose and struck the marble floor with a sharp ping. A small claw—no, a hand—emerged from the opening.

It was pale, glistening, trembling slightly as it reached out into the world for the first time.

Meruem’s head tilted, almost imperceptibly. His voice, when it came, was low. “…Let’s see what you are.”

The air inside the throne room grew still. The birth of something new was always a gamble.

And this? This was a moment Meruem intended to judge—to determine if this creature would kneel, fight, or simply break beneath the weight of his gaze.