The journey back to the Queen's lair was a different kind of terror.
He wasn't a stealthy hunter anymore. He was a Lvl 7 goblin-shaped munitions-hauler.
The [Crude Tar-Pots] were heavy. His 9 Strength, which had felt so impressive, was now a liability. He had to carry the four pottery-shards one by one, shuttling them through the dark, cramped tunnels, his muscles burning. It took him nearly an hour of back-breaking, sweaty, goblin-labor to set up his "sniper's nest."
But finally, he was there.
He lay on his stomach in the crawlspace opening, peering down into the abyss. The hissing, chittering roar of the colony washed over him. The ammonia-stink was sharp. Below, the black-spiked [Cave Roach Matriarch] (Lvl 9, E-Rank) sat on her throne of pulsating, leathery eggs, her six eyes scanning, her antennae twitching. She was a queen in her castle.
And he was the rat in the wall with a homemade bomb.
"Okay, you ugly koki," he whispered, his human mind pulling the word for a bean-pudding. The Queen looked like a burnt, over-cooked one. "Let's see if you're flammable."
His setup was meticulous. His 18 Intelligence left nothing to chance.
He lined them up:
Four [Crude Tar-Pots].
Seven [Vials of Roach Pus].
One [Fire-Kit].
He got his [Smoldering Rag] ready first, the tiny ember glowing in the dark. He set it aside, ready to be fanned into flame.
Now, Phase One.
He picked up the first [Crude Tar-Pot]. It was heavy. Awkward.
"Come on, 9 Strength," he grunted, his small arms shaking.
He activated his skill. 'Junk Tossing!'
The [Lvl 2] skill flared, enveloping the pot in mana. But his 9 Strength struggled. The pot didn't zip. It arced, slow and clumsy, wobbling through the air.
His 18 Intelligence screamed in panic. He'd miscalculated! It was too heavy! It was going to fall short!
It fell...
SPLAT!
It shattered perfectly. Not on the Queen, but on the egg-mound, right at her feet. A wide, black, sticky-goo puddle instantly formed, coating a dozen eggs.
The Queen hissed. A new sound, a high-pitched, angry SKREEE!
She turned, her six eyes trying to find the source of the attack.
The colony surged, a wave of thousands of Lvl 1s rushing towards the egg-mound, confused, angry.
He didn't wait. He grabbed the second pot. 'Junk Tossing!'
SPLAT! This one hit her flank, splattering across her spiked, black chitin. She roared now, a sound that shook the very stone. She tried to move, to scramble away, but the tar was clinging.
[Target [Cave Roach Matriarch] afflicted with [Sticky Tar]! Agility slightly reduced!]
"That's what I'm talking about!" he cackled.
Pot 3. SPLAT! Right on her head, dousing her antennae.
Pot 4. SPLAT! All over the rest of the egg-mound.
The Queen and her throne were now a glistening, black, sticky mess. She was bucking and hissing, scraping her legs against her own shell, but the [Tar-Cap Fungus] lived up to its [High-Adhesion] property. She was stuck.
"Phase Two!"
The colony was in a complete frenzy, a sea of useless, chittering rage, climbing over each other, unable to reach him.
He grabbed his [Vials of Roach Pus]. These were light. These he could throw.
'Junk Tossing!' 'Junk Tossing!' 'Junk Tossing!'
He was a machine. A green-skinned pitching-machine of doom.
Splat-splat-splat-splat-splat-splat-splat!
He unloaded all seven vials in under ten seconds, dousing the tar-coated Queen and her eggs in flammable, acidic pus.
The sizzle was immediate. The Queen SCREEEEEAMED as the acid began to eat at the sensitive joints in her chitin.
She found him. Her six, hate-filled, glowing compound eyes locked onto his crawlspace. She reared back, her massive, serrated mandibles opening. She was preparing to spit.
"Phase Three!"
He fanned his [Smoldering Rag] into a small, smoky flame.
"Dinner," he rasped. "Is served."
He tossed the flaming rag.
It fell, a tiny orange star, end over end, into the black, pus-soaked heart of the nest.
The explosion was not a FWOOMPH.
It was a WHOOOOOOMP.
A deep, bassy, fuel-air thump that sucked the air from his tunnel, almost pulling him out.
A column of thick, oily, orange flame erupted, hitting the ceiling of the cavern. The heat was instantaneous, a physical blast that seared his eyebrows and forced him to scramble back.
The sound.
The Queen's shriek was no longer a shriek. It was a high-frequency, metallic SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!—a sound of pure, unadulterated, unimaginable agony.
The 30-second burn had begun.
He peeked from the tunnel, his 14 Perception wincing. The cavern was lit up like broad daylight, but the light was a dancing, hellish orange. The Queen was a writhing silhouette, a black shape covered in clinging, napalm-fire.
The Lvl 1 roaches swarming the base of the throne didn't even have time to flee. The radiant heat incinerated them, their chitin-shells popping like greasy, toxic corn.
The smell.
It was the worst thing he had ever created. Burning tar. Burning acid. Burning chitin. Burning thousands of bugs. It was the smell of a chemical plant fire inside a fish-market. He choked, his eyes streaming, and backed away, coughing violently.
The screaming... the screaming...
It lasted for twenty seconds. Then it weakened, gurgled, and finally... stopped.
The fire burned for its full 30 seconds, a raging, oily inferno.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the fuel was spent. The flames died, leaving only a massive, glowing-red ember where the throne of eggs had been.
The cavern was plunged back into darkness.
And it was silent.
The roaring, hissing, chittering ocean of thousands... was gone.
The survivors, the ones at the edges of the cavern, had fled. The colony was broken.
He lay there, panting, his whole body shaking, his 18 Intelligence completely stunned.
It worked.
It actually, horrifyingly worked.
And then... the notifications. A waterfall of blue light.
[You have slain a [Cave Roach Matriarch (Lvl 9)]!]
[You, an F-Rank, have slain an E-Rank. Bonus EXP awarded for Rank-Difference Kill!]
[MASSIVE EXPERIENCE GAINED: 300 EXP!]
[You have slain [Cave Roach (Bloated) (Lvl 1)] x 215!]
[Due to the significant level gap, EXP from Lvl 1 targets is severely reduced (0.2 EXP per kill).]
[Experience Gained: 43 EXP!]
[You have destroyed [Roach Egg-Sacs] x 84!]
[Experience Gained: 84 EXP (1 EXP per sac)!]
[TOTAL EXP GAINED: 427 EXP]
He was Lvl 7, with 19/70 EXP.
The bar flooded.
[EXP Threshold Reached! YOU HAVE LEVELED UP!] (Cost 70)
[Level 7 -> Level 8]
[357 EXP Remaining]
[EXP Threshold Reached! YOU HAVE LEVELED UP!] (Cost 80)
[Level 8 -> Level 9]
[277 EXP Remaining]
[EXP Threshold Reached! YOU HAVE LEVELED UP!] (Cost 90)
[Level 9 -> Level 10]
[187 EXP Remaining]
[EXP Threshold Reached! YOU HAVE LEVELED UP!] (Cost 100)
[Level 10 -> Level 11]
[87 EXP Remaining]
[You are now Level 11 (87/110 EXP)!]
Waves of power, four of them, washed over him. His body felt... dense. Strong. He had jumped 4 levels in 30 seconds.
He looked at his stats, his mind reeling.
[STATUS]
Name: (Unnamed)
Race: Goblin (Lesser)
Level: 11 (87/110 EXP)
Rank: F-Rank (Peak)
Class: Field Scavenger (F-Rank) (Lvl 2 -> 95% EXP)
Title: [None]
[ATTRIBUTES]
Strength: 13 (from 9)
Agility: 15 (from 11)
Stamina: 15 (from 11)
Intelligence: 22 (from 18)
Perception: 18 (from 14)
Mana: 12 (from 8)
His Intelligence was 22. His Agility was 15. He was Lvl 11. He was still F-Rank, but he was at the absolute peak of it. He was probably stronger than the [Tribe Bully] (Lvl 7) now, even if the brute was bigger.
His [Field Scavenger] class, however, was still Lvl 2. It was lagging behind his main level hard.
He looked down into the cavern. It was still an oven. The center was a mass of glowing, molten slag. He couldn't go down there. Not yet.
The loot. The [Scavenge] from an E-Rank Queen. What would that even be? A [Core]? A new material?
He checked his Evolution Log.
[Evolutionary Path Log (1st Stage)]
Progress to 2nd Evolution: 10.5% / 100%
Current Evolutionary Profile (Influences):
[Insectoid Essence (Chitin)]: 50%
[Hydrocarbon Essence (Volatile)]: 30%
[Fungal Essence (Purifying)]: 10%
[Goblinoid Essence (Cannibalism)]: 5%
[Toxin Essence (Tainted)]: 5%
He was now, primarily, a Bug-Bomb. A Kerosene-Cricket. A Tar-Roach.
He grinned, his teeth sharp in the darkness.
He would wait. He would let it cool.
Then, he would go down and claim his prize. He had, quite literally, just exterminated his only competition in the crawlspaces.
He was, without a doubt, the King of the Margins.