The cavern was a stinking, smoke-filled tomb, and Klik was its new god.
He sat on the slag-crater, his throne of self-inflicted victory, and endured. The [E-Rank Acid-Burns] were a permanent, living hell. His new, raw-pink skin, fused with the [Fused E-Rank Armor] he had stitched into his own flesh, was a prison of agony.
His new debuff was a constant, burning reminder of his vulnerability:
[DEBUFF/BUFF ACQUIRED: [Fused E-Rank Armor] (Unique)!]
Effect (Buff): +40 Physical Defense, +15 Acid Resistance.
Effect (Debuff): -3 Agility, -3 Strength.
Duration: Permanent.
This was his reality. He was Lvl 15, a creature of god-like intellect, but his 17 Strength and 19 Agility were shackled, reduced to 14 and 16. He was a cripple.
He looked at his kingdom. It was a mirror of his own broken state.
His army consisted of three "lieutenants":
Grik (Lvl 4): His King's-Hand. A cringing, 4-INT sycophant with a new-found love of bossing others.
Bruk (Lvl 5): His Guard. A charred, one-armed, permanently-crippledwreck who was moaning by the dying fire, his melted-shield fused to his arm.
Snarl (Lvl 5): His Hunter. A terrified, silent, Lvl 5 female with a miraculous new skill in scent-tracking.
His tribe was a huddled, starving, useless mass of twenty-nine Lvl 2 and Lvl 3 goblins, cowering in the crawlspace, afraid of the dark, the fire, the enemy, and him.
His food was gone. Vaporized.
His enemies—the K'lix-Thra Deep-Hive—were intelligent, organized, and watching.
"A single hand cannot tie a bundle," his 35 Intelligence rasped in his mind.
He could not do this alone. He hated this. He hatedrelying on 3-INTidiots. But he had to. He had to build his hands.
He stalked to the crawlspace.
"OUT!"
The tribespilled out, prostrating themselves.
He pointed at Grik (Lvl 4) and Snarl (Lvl 5).
"YOU. YOU."
He pointed at fourothergoblins—the biggest, least-stupid-looking Lvl 3s.
"YOU. YOU. YOU. YOU."
He had six goblins. His newhunting party.
He pointed at the crawlspace that led to his Workshop—his old roach-run.
"RATS," he hissed, mimickingwhiskers and skittering. "FOOD."
He pointed at Snarl. "LEAD. HUNT."
He gaveSnarl the [Chitin-Edged Bone Spear]. It was hisbestspear.
Snarl, Lvl 5 and emboldened by her new-foundpurpose, sniffed the air. She bared her teeth. She was the Hunter. She hit one of the Lvl 3s. "HUNT!"
The six-goblinpartydisappeared into the crawlspace.
Klik turned.
He stalked to the moaning, charred, meltedlump that was Bruk.
The Lvl 5 brutelooked up, his one good eyeweeping.
"King-God…" Bruk gurgled. "…Hurt…"
"I KNOW," Klik hissed, his ownskinless, pinkbodyscreaming in sympathy.
He grabbed the [Iron-Sharded Mace] he had justcrafted.
He shoved it into Bruk'sone good hand.
"YOU," Klik commanded, his voicelow and furious. "GUARD. LIVE."
He pointed at the *dark, silent, Formian-infestedmain tunnel.
"ENEMY. IS. THERE."
Bruk looked at the mace. It was heavy. It was iron. It was beautiful.
He looked at the tunnel.
He looked at his King.
He gripped the mace. He used it as a crutch, just as Klikusedhis.
He dragged his ruined, melted, crippledbodyto the tunnel-mouth.
He sat, his back to the wall.
He became a statue of scarred-flesh and hate. He was the Guardian.
Klik turned.
The rest. The twenty-fiveuseless, starvingcowards.
He had to make them useful.
He neededweapons. He neededarmor.
He needed to level his Class.
He stalked to his Workshop. He returneddragging his entirehoard of Refined-Materials.
Piles of [Hardened Chitin Fragments (Common)].
Piles of [Cured Leather Scraps (Common)].
Piles of [Cured Sinew-Cord (Common)].
Piles of [Iron Fragments (Common)].
He dumped it all by the dying, tar-slickedfire.
He sat.
"WATCH!" he roared at the tribe.
They cowered, but they watched.
He took a [Goblin Bone (Junk)]. He took a [Hardened Chitin Fragment]. He took a [Cured Sinew-Cord].
His hands, his raw, pink, -3 STRhands, moved with the preternatural, 35-INTspeed of his [Lvl 9 Class].
[Activating Skill: [Weapon-Tinker (Lesser)]!]
Stitch. Wrap. Bind.
In thirty seconds, he heldup a [Chitin-Shiv (Common)].
The tribegasped.
He threw it on the ground.
He took[Cured Leather Scraps]. He took[Cured Sinew-Cord].
[Activating Skill: [Improvise (Lvl 2)]!]
Weave. Loop. Tie.
In one minute, he heldup a [Junk-Sling (Common)].
The tribestared. Magic.
He threw it down.
He pointed at Grik. "YOU. KING'S-HAND."
He pointed at the pile of materials.
He pointed at the finishedweapons.
"TEACH. THEM. MAKE!"
Grik's 4-INT stalled. Teach?
"NOW!" Klik roared.
Grik scrambled. He grabbed a bone. He grabbed a fragment. He tried to mimicKlik'smovements.
He fumbled. He dropped it. He cut his own hand. He hissed in pain.
"AGAIN!" Klik commanded, his voicecold.
Grik triedagain. Wrap. Bind.
The result was pathetic. It was loose. It was ugly.
[Subject [Grik] has attempted [Primitive-Crafting]... FAILED!]
"AGAIN!"
Grik triedagain. Harder.
[...FAILED!]
"AGAIN!"
Grik sweated. He looked at Klik'sperfectmodel. He looked at his owngarbage.
He focused. He wrapped the sinewtight, tight, TIGHT...
[Subject [Grik] has attempted [Primitive-Crafting]... SUCCESS!]
[You have created a [Shoddy-Shiv (Junk)]!]
[Subject [Grik] has learned a new Skill: [Primitive-Crafting (F-Rank) Lvl 1]!]
Grik stared at the skill-notification. He stared at the ugly-shiv.
He looked at Klik.
Klik nodded, a single, terrifyingjerk of his raw-pinkhead.
"GOOD."
That one word.
Grik puffed his chestoutso far it almostcracked.
He was Grik. The King's-Hand. The Craft-Master.
"NOW," Klik hissed, sweeping his armacross the othertwenty-four, coweringgoblins. "TEACH. THEM."
Grik grinned. A *wide, sharp, viciousgrin.
He grabbed his Spear-of-Office.
"STUPID!" he screamed, smacking the nearestgoblin. "WORK! KING-GOD COMMANDS! MAKE!"
The greatgoblin-crafting-assembly-linebegan.
It was hell.
It was goblinsstabbingthemselves. It was sinewsnapping. It was Grikscreaming and smackingpeople.
But it was progress.
[Subject [Goblin (Unnamed)] has learned [Primitive-Crafting (F-Rank) Lvl 1]!]
[Subject [Goblin (Unnamed)] has learned [Primitive-Crafting (F-Rank) Lvl 1]!]
Klik watched.
His tribe was learning.
They were [Specializing].
And he... he was crafting.
He leftthem to their [Junk]-shivs.
He took the goodmaterials. The [Iron Fragments]. The [Hardened Chitin Fragments].
He began to work.
He crafted[Iron Caltrops (Common)].
[...Class EXP Gained: 5%!]
He crafted[Chitin-Edged Bone Spear (Common)].
[...Class EXP Gained: 10%!]
He crafted a new[Iron-Sharded Mace (Common)] for himself—a better one.
[...Class EXP Gained: 10%!]
His Class-Barfilled.
His agony was lost in the *cold, pure, focusedjoy of creation.
He took the last[Warped E-Rank Chitin Plate].
He took his [Bone-Needle].
He bitdown on his club-handle.
He stitcheditto his back.
A *fused, black, grotesquecarapace.
Stitch. Pull. Agony.
[You have created a [Fused E-Rank Carapace (Unique)]!]
[Your [Fused E-Rank Armor] buff has been Upgraded!]
[New Effect (Buff): +70 Physical Defense, +20 Acid Resistance!]
[New Effect (Debuff): -2 Agility, -2 Strength. (Pain is lessening as armor stabilizes)]
His statschanged!
STR: 15 (17 – 2).
AGI: 17 (19 – 2).
He was healing! He was adapting!
He was Lvl 15, with 15 STR and 17 AGI. He was almost as fast as the Formians.
He was covered in black, fused-on, stitched-to-his-fleshE-Rankarmor.
He was terrifying.
And then… the notificationhit.
[Your Skill [Armor-Tinker (Lvl 1)] has gained 100% proficiency!]
[Your Skill [Weapon-Tinker (Lvl 1)] has gained 100% proficiency!]
[Your Class [Field Scavenger (Lvl 9)] has gained 100% proficiency!]
[CLASS LEVELED UP!]
[Class Level 9 -> Class Level 10]
[Intelligence +1, Perception +1]
[You have learned a new Class Skill!]
[Analyze Structure (Lesser) - Lvl 1 (Active)]:Allows you to [Appraise] structures and geology. Detects structural-weaknesses, hidden-passages, and material-composition (e.g., [Unstable Ceiling], [Mineral Vein (Iron - Poor)], [Hollow Wall]). Cost: 5 Mana.
A wave of *pure, cold, transcendentclaritywashedover him, drowning the pain.
His stats...
Intelligence: 35.
Perception: 31.
He was a god.
And the Systemspoke.
A newsound. A *deep, formal, chime.
A new, gold-edgedwindowopened in his vision.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: Host [Klik] has reached [Class Level 10]!]
[Host [Klik] has established a [Tribe] (31+ Subjects)!]
[Host [Klik] has claimed a [Lair]!]
[Host [Klik] has met the pre-requisites for Leadership!]
[New Function Unlocked: [SYSTEM QUESTS (TRIBE)]!]
[This function will guide the Host in the uplift and evolution of his People!]
[NEW QUEST GENERATED (F-RANK)]
QUEST: "The Logic of the Lair"
Description:Your people are idiots. They are starving, unskilled, and afraid. They live in a tomb, hunted by an intelligent Hive. You are their King. Act like it. Impose your Logic upon this Chaos. Build your fortress. Build your people.
---
Objective 1: [Establish a Barricade]
Create a permanent, defensible [Barricade (Common)] at the Main Tunnel Entrance. (Must be able to withstand F-Rank force).
Objective 2: [Establish a Larder]
Create a sustainable food-source. Your Tribe (not you) must hunt and store [20/20] creature-corpses (Lvl 1-5).
Objective 3: [Establish a Hierarchy]
*Appoint [3/3]Task-Masters (Grik, Bruk, Snarl).
Specialize your People. [10/10] Goblins must learn a new [Primitive-Skill] (e.g., [Primitive-Crafting], [Primitive-Skinning], [Primitive-Cooking], [Scout]).
---
Rewards for Completion:
1) [Tribe Skill: Obedience (Passive)] (YourTribegains a permanent+1 INT and resists the [Cowardice]passivewhenyouarepresent).
2) [Evolutionary Catalyst (Lesser)] x 1 (Arareconsumable. Whengiven to a1st-Evolutionmonster, guaranteesachoiceof3pathsfortheir2nd-EvolutiononcetheyhittheLvl-cap).
3) 500 EXP (Tribe) (Distributedamongallparticipants).
Klik stared at the quest.
He looked at his tribe.
Objective 3... was alreadyhalf-complete. His crafting-montage had forceda dozen of them to learn[Primitive-Crafting].
He looked at Bruk, his crippledGuard, alreadysitting by the tunnel.
Objective 1... was in-progress.
He looked at Snarl and Grik... who justthenreturned, haulingfour[Giant Cave-Rat (Lvl 3)]corpses.
Objective 2... was in-progress.
The Systemwasn'tgiving him newtasks.
It was logging the plans his 35-INTmind had alreadyset in motion.
It was rewarding his Logic.
"Good," Klik hissed, his voicefull of cold, painedsatisfaction.
He looked at the [Evolutionary Catalyst].
Achoice. Forthem.
He looked at Grik (Lvl 4). At Snarl (Lvl 5). At Bruk (Lvl 5).
Whowouldhechoose?
The raceto2nd Evolution... was on.