He stood at the entrance to the Queen's cavern, his 11 Agility poised to break the sound barrier in the opposite direction.
His 14 Perception drank in the scene. The sound was a physical weight, a unified, hissing, chittering roar of thousands of Lvl 1 bodies. The smell was a thick, chemical-ammonia stench that dwarfed the goblin-king's personal musk.
And the Queen... she was big. Lvl 7 [Tribe Bully] big. But where the Bully was all flabby, haphazard muscle, the Queen was engineered. She was a sleek, black, spiked tank, her six compound eyes scanning her domain with cold, alien intelligence.
He [Appraised] her from the absolute maximum range of his skill.
[System: Mana Cost: 1. Target acquired. Current Mana: 7/8]
[Analyzing... Target is high-level...]
[Appraisal (Lesser) (Lvl 1) is insufficient for a full scan.]
Race: Cave Roach Matriarch (???)
Level: 9
Rank: E-Rank (Lower)
Name: (The Swarm-Mother)
Title: [Colony Queen]
State: Guarding, Gestating
Note: A true 2nd Evolution monster. Her chitin is highly resistant to physical and chemical damage. She is a real threat.
His blood ran cold.
Lvl 9. E-Rank.
This wasn't just a big bug. This was a monster. The system had made it clear: E-Rank was the actual start for "powerful" beings. He was Lvl 7, but he was still, technically, a high-tier F-Rank.
His [Chitin-Edged Dagger] wouldn't scratch her. His [Corroded] version would probably just annoy her.
And his seven vials of [Roach Pus]? Against a colony of thousands?
That wasn't an explosion. That was a pop. A damp, disappointing firecracker.
"Nope."
He said the word out loud, his reedy voice swallowed by the hiss of the colony. "Absolutely, positively, 100-percent nyango to that."
He was a Scavenger. He was a rat. And this was a dragon's lair.
Rats don't fight dragons. They steal their hoard, or in this case, wait for them to die of old age.
But... all roaches.His own directive, echoed. He couldn't just leave this. This was a goldmine of EXP. That Queen, that E-Rank monster, had to be worth hundreds of EXP.
And she was gestating. She was making more.
This wasn't a static dungeon. This was a roach factory. If he left it, they would eventually swarm the entire cave system. They'd swarm the goblin's den. They'd swarm his hovel.
He couldn't fight her. He couldn't burn her.
...Yet.
"I don't need a bigger FWOOMPH," he muttered, backing away into the silent crawlspace. "I need a strategic-grade FWOOMPH. I need to go full 'Douala market fire' on this place."
He needed more fuel. Better fuel.
The roach pus was a good accelerant, but it wasn't a good base. It burned too fast. He needed something that would stick. Something that would smolder. He needed to turn that cavern into an oven.
His 18 Intelligence, a magnificent, over-powered engine of goblin-craft, began to churn. He needed to prospect.
He left the roach-zone and the goblin-zone. He delved into a new, unexplored tunnel, one that his 14 Perception told him was... empty. No roaches. No goblins. Just... cave.
It was damp. It was cold. It was, for the first time, silent.
He walked for nearly an hour, his [Chitin-Edged Dagger] (a fresh one he'd crafted) held at the ready.
The tunnel opened into a new cavern. This one was different. It was a "wet" cave. A slow, steady drip-drip-drip echoed from the ceiling. The air was thick with the smell of mildew and... something else.
A chemical, tar-like smell.
His 14 Perception led him to a dark corner, where a wide, black, glistening stain was dripping down the wall. It wasn't water. It was a thick, oily... fungus. A patch of ugly, black, tar-like mushrooms, bubbling sluggishly.
[Passive: [Analysis] activated!]
[Target: [Tar-Cap Fungus (Poor)]]
[Core Properties Identified: [Viscous], [Hydrocarbon Base], [High-Adhesion], [Highly Flammable (when processed)], [Mild Neurotoxin (Raw)].]
He stared at the words [Hydrocarbon Base] and [Highly Flammable].
"Oh, you beautiful, disgusting, oily thing," he cooed.
This was it. This was his napalm.
His inner reader was screaming about evolutionary paths. He had to taste it.
He looked at the bubbling, oily sludge. It smelled like a mechanic's armpit.
"For science," he grimaced.
He dipped a claw in, getting a small, black, sticky glob. He licked it.
The taste was... vile. It wasn't "food" in any sense. It was bitter, chemical, and it made his tongue go numb.
[You have consumed [Tar-Cap Fungus (Raw)]!]
[STAMINA CHECK (11) vs. Mild Neurotoxin (Difficulty 4)... Success!]
[Your Skill [Toxin Resistance (Lvl 1)] has gained proficiency!]
[Your [Monster Evolution] parameters are being updated.]
He spat the rest out, his face contorted. "Ugh. Okay. Got it."
He checked the log.
[Evolutionary Path Log (1st Stage)]
Progress to 2nd Evolution: 7.5% / 100%
Current Evolutionary Profile (Influences):
[Insectoid Essence (Chitin)]: 55%
[Hydrocarbon Essence (Volatile)]: 20% (NEW!)
Source: [Tar-Cap Fungus]
Potential Paths: [Volatile], [Oily], [Plastid], [Ignition]
[Fungal Essence (Purifying)]: 15%
[Goblinoid Essence (Cannibalism)]: 5%
[Toxin Essence (Tainted)]: 5%
Ignition? He could become the fire-starter? The possibilities were dizzying.
But first, the practical application.
He needed containers. The [Tar-Cap] was too sticky to just carry.
He looked around the cavern. It was just rock, slime, and... wait.
He saw a pile of debris in a dry corner. He approached.
It was... old junk. Ancient junk.
[Passive: [Analysis] activated!]
[Target: [Brittle Bone Fragments (Junk)], [Pottery Shards (Common)], [Dried-Out Slime-Sacs (Poor)].]
[Pottery Shards]. Containers.
He spent the next thirty minutes using his [Scavenge (Lvl 3)] skill on the [Tar-Cap] patch and the debris pile. His new Lvl 3 skill was smooth. It didn't just tell him what to grab; it told him how. He found he could scrape the [Tar-Cap] sludge into the curved [Pottery Shards] with horrifying efficiency. He used the [Dried-Out Slime-Sacs]—tough, leathery membranes—as lids, tying them on with fibers from the [Dessicated Diseased Rags] he carried.
He was a Lvl 7 goblin, crouched in the dark, making tar-bombs.
After an hour of meticulous, sticky, deeply satisfying work, he had a new inventory:
[Crude Tar-Pot (Poor)] x 4
[Vials of Roach Pus (Poor)] x 7
[Chitin-Edged Bone Dagger (Poor)] x 1
Fire-Kit (Chert/Pyrite/Rag)
He [Appraised] his new creation.
[Crude Tar-Pot (Poor) (Ammo/Tool)]
Rank: F-rank (High)
Description: A simple pottery shard filled with highly adhesive, semi-processed [Tar-Cap Fungus]. It's heavy, sticky, and disgustingly flammable.
Effect 1 (Toss): Will shatter on impact, coating a small area in [Sticky Tar]. [Agility] is reduced for all targets in the area.
Effect 2 (Fire): If ignited, will burn violently for 30 seconds, inflicting high [Fire] damage and [Sticky Tar] debuff.
He looked at his 7 vials of [Roach Pus]. He looked at his 4 [Crude Tar-Pots].
His 18 Intelligence was no longer just a "buzz." It was a symphony.
The pus wasn't the main fuel. It was the detonator.
The tar-pots weren't just fire. They were traps.
He had a new plan.
Go back to the Queen's Lair.
Use the crawlspace-entrance as a sniper's nest.
Throw the [Tar-Pots] onto the Queen and her egg-mound, coating them in sticky, flammable goo.
Throw the [Roach Pus] vials onto the same spot.
Toss his [Smoldering Rag].
FWOOMPH.
It wasn't a fire-bomb. It was a sticky-bomb. It would cling to her. It would cling to the eggs. It would burn. And burn. And burn.
His [Cowardice] passive was silent.
This wasn't a fight. This was demolitions.
And he, the Lvl 7 [Field Scavenger], was about to become the single most terrifying exterminator in the history of this miserable, lightless world.