Alien Evolution System

by Stayrr

Consume and evolve to become the strongest. The Collector, an alien warrior on a mission to absorb all life, transmigrates to a world of fantasy and magic. However, a battle with a god forces it to begin its journey as nothing more than a weak grub. Used to fighting against spaceships and machines, the Collector must now navigate its strange new world where instead of dealing wi

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The Collector watched as the fall of Grain obscured the lighting lit skies generated from its blast.

This was the draconid specimen's most powerful attack.

The draconid species were capable of generating electromagnetic fields around them through specialized cells, with the center of this field comprising of their prominent back fin.

This field could be extended outwards with the input of magical energy, and other living specimen that fell under the field would have their personal electrical activity such as their neurosynaptic functions read.

This allowed for the limited precognitive ability the draconid specimen showed.

Likely, the electromagnetic sensitive cells also assisted in navigation as they could also read the flow of environmental mana quite well, for pure environmental mana flowed in some way analogously to a magnetic field generated by a planetary core.

These, however, were only the most basic abilities of these magically charged, electromagnetic cells.

They could further be overloaded with magical energy, prompting them to color any mana that went into energy that was further converted into electrical output.

When this output was maximized by circulating the flow of charged mana through the dorsal fin, it gained even further abilities, ascending from mere electrical charge into a raw manifestation of a storm, creating dark clouds, rumbling lightning, icy hail fall, and surging winds that localized around the maw of the species, ready to be vented out as a beam or in wide range area of effect.

This was a derivative of a primal magic ability called Eye of the Storm, though, notably as the system shard classified, it was denoted as being (False), indicating an incompleteness.

Likely, the true version of this power belonged to the larger genetic sample the draconids were derived from, of which the white maned draconid was likely a greater part of.

Even so, when the inferior draconid specimen had unleashed its storm breath against the Collector and the goblins, it had generated enough force to completely blow apart a sizable swath of the cliff face.

Now, when utilized by the Collector in its gigantified fifty meter frame and drastically enhanced mana reserves, the attack truly became an unparalleled storm of destruction. A targeted hurricane of wind forces and lightning.

Such was the strength of the breath that the sphere shaped ship had disintegrated entirely, and this, too, was intentional.

The Collector did not want any wreckage of these ships to be found by tinkerers. A fleet of this size would have its absence noted, and though it was impossible for this fleet to have received or sent out communications through the Grain, it was likely that their destination was at the least logged.

The Collector could not stay here. It may have even been that the ships had been sent out to scout for it directly. This, the Collector could find out now.

The Collector stared down at the ball of crushed airships by its feet. Inside would be a few dwarven pilots to interrogate. It utilized its new Jotnar Shift ability, sizing itself down so as to minimize attention.

Jotnar Shift would also allow the Collector to build up mana to further unleash when it gigantified, so spending more time in a compact state would lead to larger payoffs when it did expand into its full size.

A misty, icy fog surged outwards from the Collector, through both its skin and through the miniscule pores in its carapace. The fog was thick, laden with ice crystals that would have visibly glimmered under sunlight, and it completely obscured the Collector's towering form, leaving only its red eyes to faintly flicker before that light too disappeared.

The temperatures emitted by it were also exceedingly low and could easily snap freeze most unprepared specimen.

This emission of fog catalyzed the Jotnar Shift, and the Collector noted it could be utilized to easily obscure its presence and catch enemies unawares, disorienting them with a sudden shift in its dimensions along with the cold.

The Jotnar Shift was a near instantaneous process.

The Collector's body temporarily become pure energy, and then it condensed down into a height that nearly reached three meters. The same height it usually occupied when it was condensing its biomass prior, though now it could freely alternate between compacted and uncompacted biomass forms.

The Collector now stood in front of the pile of crushed airships, watching as the ball of crumpled, crackling and sparking metal and wiring now stood taller than it. It was even dwarfed in the center of one of the great footsteps it had carved out in the snow previously.

The most glaring weakness of this ability was that the Jotnar Shift possessed a flat rate cost of one fourth of the Collector's total mana reserves, making repeated usages untenable.

It also noted that when it transformed from its current smaller size to its gigantified form, instead of an inward condensation of energy, there would instead be an explosive outburst, making the transformation itself a formidable area of effect attack when needed.

There were many things to consider now.

The idea of this entity known as the 'White Voice' came to the foremost of the Collector's mind in particular. Yet, contemplation would have to come after safety was secured.

The Collector approached the crushed ball of airships. At least a few of the piloting specimen were alive; it had made sure of that. It put a pair of hands on one of the cockpit windows and pried it open, the wrenching of metal filling the air.

A dwarf was there, pinned by a belt to its cockpit with its legs completely crushed by metal pressurized by the Collector's Sapia.

"That injury is not fatal," said the Collector as it dropped the torn apart cockpit window to the ground. "Speak truth to me, and I shall grant you a painless death. Lie to me, and you will know agony unknown to any tinkerer on this planet."

The dwarf looked up at the Collector, crackling pieces of technology screaming around it in malfunction. The dwarf specimen was covered in a suit of body armor. Sleek in design. Reminiscent of the United Front's infantry armor.

Specifically that belonging to the Federation of Humanity.

A coincidence that did not escape the Collector. It would soon know, however, when it began to question.

"Undeath Override," whispered the dwarf weakly, its voice mechanically projected in raspy manner through a filtration system in its helmet.

When the dwarf uttered those words, a few mechanical patches on its body armor changed their glow from green to black.

The Collector reached out its hand to grasp the dwarf, but as it did so, the dwarf spontaneously exploded, blown apart by ordinance inlaid within its armor.

The Collector was left grasping at a black cloud of acrid smoke, and as that smoke made contact with the airship remains around it, a sort of mass self-destruction sequence initiated. The airships began to combust and break apart wherever it could via its engines or circuitry.

All pilots within them further blew apart by their suits, regardless of whether they were alive or dead.

Curious that these specimens would have the immediate and available function to destroy themselves at a moment's notice like this.

Such a function was niche in its usage, with the Collector theorizing that it would be useful largely in times of war when the information held by certain individuals was sensitive.

Yet, the word 'Undeath'.

The Collector had heard this before and determined that it was something resembling some sort of pathogen or infestation that caused specimen to function after their primary processing systems had expired.

Likely, then, an 'Undeath Override' was meant to prevent bodies from succumbing to this pathogen, with the dwarf specimen conveniently utilizing it to escape the Collector's questioning.

An admirable quality, in some way. A willingness to throw away life for the sake of a misguided loyalty to a people.

The Collector left the pile of now broken apart, flaming ball of scrap to further deteriorate. It would fully destroy every trace of them later, but for now, it turned finally to the corpses of the goblin swarm.

Corpses it had taken care of to not damage in its prior altercation.

For the Collector now possessed an ability from the Jotnar it was eager to test.

The Breath of Life.

The Collector peered down at the pile of goblin corpses. They were considerably well preserved considering the low temperatures of this area, and because their skin and bodies were adapted to the cold, their internal organs still functioned to some small degree, though some were more expired than others due to varying degrees in the severity of their wounds.

The elder unit was relatively well preserved, eliminated through three bullet holes through its stomach that had contributed to organ failure and blood loss.

The champions were considerably more damaged, likely having put up a significant fight. Many of them had their once musclebound body parts shredded down by the impact of bullets, with larger caliber bullets turning their limbs into shredded ribbons of freezing meat dangling from cracked sticks of bone.

Some of them had lethal head injuries that were unsalvageable, with more than half their brain mass blown apart.

Most importantly, however, the carrier unit elite had preserved itself well enough. It had lost all four limbs, and the gaping holes littering its body indicated that it had taken the vast brunt of the larger caliber bullet fire from the airships.

Likely, the champion had utilized [Guard] to take much of the deadlier bullets for the swarm and judging by the countless small craters riddling the area, it had also been subject to a complete aerial bombardment of sizable high caliber bullets from which it was utterly defenseless against.

The elite unit had, however, likely hunched up and covered its head when the aerial attack started, thus preserving its brain matter well enough.

Still, the Collector was on a timer. Just as it could not extract memories from specimen that had their brain matter expired for too long, it surmised that the nature of this Breath of Life ability would not work on specimen that had been too long expired.

The Breath of Life functioned as such: the Collector, after storing enough mana, would be able to emit it in an icy breath that manifested the creation of ice crystals within bodies. These ice crystals would latch onto the biomass of specimens and meld with it, repairing wounds through a process similar to implementing prosthetics.

The difference between the Breath of Life and ordinary cellular regeneration was that it possessed a psionic component to it. When the ice crystals bound to a specimen's biomass, it did not merely function as a placeholder for lost body parts and cellular degradation, but it also attached to nerves and neurons, becoming part of the specimen at a fundamental level.

This was restorative capacity that was almost unparalleled. Even the Collector understood that this was an extraordinarily impressive adaptation. Both the Collective Hivemind and the United Front possessed the means to essentially reanimate their fallen, but reanimation was not the same as resurrection.

Tinkerers, especially the psionically capable Klaxia, were capable of creating copies of the consciousness of their fallen warriors into mechanical constructs and the Human Federation was capable of implementing cybernetics into their damaged units.

However, in both cases, individuals were not truly resurrected. Klaxian copied consciousnesses were merely copies; the originals were expired. The cybernetics of the Human Federation salvaged brain matter when it could, but many times, it simply created specimen that were simply machines, the 'man' part having expired.

The mechanically oriented Xon of the United Front were likely the only one that had transcended this limitation, for they as a species had long since decided to make the drastic jump to simply upload their consciousnesses into an unified virtual network, consequently making them the most troublesome of foes to wage war against on end of the Collective.

For in a sense, the Xon were much like the Collective. When the species had first decided to become entirely mechanical, they implemented certain hard coded limitations upon themselves, one of which was that their psionic profiles would occupy one specific mechanical construct as a main body, for the essence of an individual degraded the more it was spread out.

However, when this main body was eliminated, the psionic profile would return to a greater virtual whole called the Gestalt, though this was predicated upon the main body possessing a connection to the Gestalt server at the moment of expiry.

Like this, the Xon could indefinitely wage war and self-replicate, with their lack of biomass proving especially troublesome for the Collective.

Yet, the development of psionically projected electromagnetic disruptions from the Collective inflicted great suffering upon the machine race, for the specialized disruptor pulses could sever the Xon from linking with the Gestalt, thus preventing psionic profiles from reincarnating, and the Xon possessed a far lower population count than either the Klaxia or Humans – another one of their coded limitations.

The Collector once would not have even thought of any parallels to tinkerers it had known, but now, it had to consider everything. The presence of technology that mimicked the United Front along with the fact that Unitan existed indicated there was potential that United Front tinkerers had promoted technological development.

Yet, as the Collector still further noted, the technological development here seemed to be in some ways divergent than that of the United Front, incorporating native elements of magic to sustain it. At the same time, the uncanny parallels in weaponry and vehicular design meant it was unlikely there was no relation between the United Front and some tinkering species here.

Likely, the Collector theorized, these tinkerers, 'dwarves' as they were classified by the system shard, possessed some guidance from United Front tinkerers, whether that was through direct manipulation or potentially access to technological blueprints was difficult to truly ascertain.

Regardless, technology was not spread evenly across this world, nor even among tinkerers. The dwarves were unique in their utilization of technology, it seemed, and had not shared their advancements with others.

Indicated a lack of true unity among the tinkerers.

Good. The more disorder there was, the more gaps the Collector could find to exploit and hide within to grow ever stronger.

For now, the Collector focused on the time sensitive issue of resurrecting the goblins. The spiral pattern of dark blue, nearly black swirling around the golden orb on its chest began to emanate with energy. It had gathered enough energy from the outpouring of primal mana from its evolutionary cocoon, and with it, it had ample supply to utilize the Breath of Life.

The Collector felt its body temperature begin to rise as it engaged its spirit roots and the Jotnar core that housed the Breath of Life ability.

Like Sapia, the Breath of Life was an Inhera ability.

Inhera was essentially the same as Primal Magic, both of them being expressions of race-specific powers. However, where Inhera was different was that it possessed an individual component to it.

Individuals in races would develop their own unique expressions of their Inhera that was directly tied to their core. Thus, where the projection of mana to create mental manipulations of matter was basic to Sapia, with all daemons capable of utilizing it, daemons could develop their own unique manifestation of Sapia as well.

In essence – all daemons could use basic Sapia abilities such as the Force Push and Pull, but individuals could develop specific expressions of it tied to their core.

On that note, the Collector could not fully access the female daemon specimen's powers. It could only access the basic abilities of Sapia. The female daemon specimen had not yet matured enough to develop her own unique Sapia power, but the potential to grow one was there.

The issue was that for unique individual expressions of Inhera, the Collector had to fully meld with the corresponding core, feeling the emotion that triggered it. Thus, with Wonder that the Collector did not yet fully have the ability to comprehend, it could not access the female daemon specimen's potential to develop her unique Sapian power.

The Collector had decided that allowing such foreign emotions to envelop it would be heretical and difficult to control.

Yet, it was now posed with a challenge.

In order to restore the goblin swarm, the Collector had to channel the Jotnar core and its trigger of Mercy, another emotion it was not too familiar with. For the Breath of Life at a very basic level only created a breath that nourished life in an environment.

The capacity to generate ice crystals that restored lethal wounds in specific specimens was unique to the Jotnar that had once possessed this core.

The Collector would have to begin to comprehend this emotion, this 'mercy', to use the Jotnar's power.

But would it?

Was the goblin swarm worth the risk of allowing a foreign emotion to fully overflow into it?

Or, more importantly, as the Collector came to think to itself in lieu of all that it had experienced in this new world, was it even truly a risk, truly something heretical, to begin to feel?

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Regardless, the Collector would attempt this. It understood well that in some time, it would have had to allow foreign emotions within its system in order to engage certain abilities that were too useful to ignore. Now was an efficient and apt time.

The Breath of Life was versatile, and some Jotnar could theoretically possess the capacity to utilize it in such a way to create constructs of autonomous ice that were quite powerful, scaling directly with the magical energy inputted into them.

This, coupled with the enormous reserves of magical energy already inherent in the species, meant that any construct that the Collector managed to create would be powerful and unlikely to fall behind its own strength to significant degree.

The Collector's Jotnar core was not capable of directly creating constructs, but it could charge cells with their nourishing ice crystals and improve the physical and magical capabilities of any unit enveloped in the breath.

The benefits were double here. The Collector could return the goblin swarm to life, and it could greatly enhance their might with its Breath of Life.

All the Collector needed was to begin to feel mercy in order to activate the Jotnar core. It looked over the corpses of goblins and hovered one of its four hands over them, its black, metallic claws glimmering from the golden light generated from its chest orb.

The Collector focused its intent, and as it did so, its senses sharpened to, honing on the Jotnar core placed within one of its reserve hearts. It focused upon the beating of the blue organ, at the specific type of magical energy within it, and attempted to unlock its power.

The Collector could force the Jotnar core to input the necessary trigger emotion of mercy into it, but overloading its processing unit with a sudden surge of foreign emotions was still something it was hesitant to do.

It first wanted to see if it could conceptualize the emotion on its own terms enough so that it could unlock the core by itself. If it could begin to understand these emotions on its own, it could master them and wield them instead of feeling overwhelmed at their foreignness.

First, the Collector began to conceptualize what 'mercy' was to it.

Mercy, at a fundamental definitional level, was an act of restraint. It was the decision to show restraint when one was capable of inflicting suffering.

The Collector was not a stranger to this type of mercy. In fact, it showed it in fair regularity, opting to grant this type of mercy in varying measures to multiple specimens that it sensed were capable of granting the Collector battle of worth.

The greater the battle worthiness of the specimen, the greater amount of this type of mercy the Collector could manage to muster.

However, the feeling attached to this type of mercy was not the same one required to access the Jotnar core.

No, the type of mercy the Collector was familiar with was predicated largely on desire, and judging by how the Jotnar core did not respond at all to the warmth of desire that the Collector routinely felt, it was suffice to note that the familiar desire the Collector knew was not that which fueled the mercy the Jotnar core understood.

Worth a try.

It would seem the Collector would have to force the Jotnar core's specific feeling of mercy through its processing unit.

The Collector did so, forcibly activating the trigger for the Jotnar core. Various emotions associated with 'mercy' flowed into the Collector, and these were emotions it had utterly no experience with.

Compassion. Forgiveness.

It knew them through basic definitional framework in the same way a tinkerer would know the definitions of terms via written records – through cold, observed knowing, not truly felt understanding.

Yet, unlike before when the Collector felt foreign emotions swell up within it, when the female daemon specimen had allowed her emotions to flow into the Collector, it did not immediately suppress these emotions.

The Collector would tackle them. Attempt to understand them. Know them.

Understand them.

This way, it could utilize its abilities to their fullest. It could not afford to constantly be overwhelmed and pause every single time it desired to use the maximal usage of the Jotnar core's powers.

The Collector let the emotions circulate within it, and as it tried to understand them, an anomalous event occurred. The emotions, as triggers for the activation of a core and therefore the circulation of magical energy, possessed a quality of heat that the Collector could physically feel swelling up within its body.

Like the first time the Collector had felt mana swirling within it as a source of unidentifiable heat.

The heat was intense, almost burning, and the Collector could sense instability in the flow of mana pumping out from the Jotnar heart. Its spirit roots were burning up, causing its internal body temperatures to rise and its mana to flicker in an unstable, crackling blue aura around it.

Once the Collector understood these emotions better, the heat and magical instability would fade. For now, though, it focused its attention on understanding.

The Collector had gathered enough experiences, it surmised, to form enough of a framework to begin to understand these things.

But as the heat of the unstable, irregularly circulating magical energy reached a peak, the Collector found its processing unit strangely overtaken. Its senses became enveloped at first in blinding white that also deafened its auditory systems and numbed its tactile capacities.

Then, the Collector found itself somewhere else. No, not somewhere else, as someone else. It was viewing the memories of another –

Eru Wun Thamir. Or Eru of the Thamir bloodline, as the humans here would have called him. Had they been alive.

Eru knelt down in the snow, his pale blue skin standing out against the dark fall of Grain whirling all around him. Crystals of ice jutted out from his back, merging into a formation reminiscent of cave stalactites.

From them, deeper blue light emanated, shining right through the Grain. It was through this light that the human corpses were visible. A dozen of them scattered across the top of the ritual cliff Eru had carved out long ago, when the Thamir clan head had declared they were to enter the Cyclic Rest.

The corpses were still fresh, many of them studded with sharp ice crystals that had led to their ends. They were men of these lands, Eru could tell from their tribal tattoos.

Of the Wraith clan, it would appear, judging by the skull tattoos imprinted on their shoulders.

Or was it the Wraith clan?

It was difficult to remember. Human lives were short, and they changed so quickly and so often. They named themselves this clan in one century, that clan in another.

There was a time that Eru, ever the curious one, had crossed the divide of the Rift to build things for the humans and make merry with their drinks and foods. But that was long ago. Three hundred years ago, maybe longer than that.

When the grooves and wrinkles of time, even though they carved their lines on Jotnar faces far slower than they did on human faces, did not find purchase on Eru's skin. When he was hopeful.

Now, he was old. Reaching the twilight of his long existence, ready for his thinning blood and aching bones to return to the White Voice.

Eru was still hopeful. Just a little more realistic.

He no longer believed in teaching the humans the old ways, to connect with the world around them, to hear the White Voice and see where the land was sacred and where life was not to be tampered with. It was far too late for that.

The sacrilegious gods had implanted their tendrils of influence deep into the humans like Facestealers, ensuring that the humans would never again make peace with the Jotnar.

Now, the humans, like the ones he had killed in front of him, attacked Jotnar on sight, sending the mightiest among them known as 'adventurers', believing them monstrosities of a nature that was unknown and to be feared, not known and revered.

Their goddess of war personally brought untold misery and slaughter to any Jotnar that remained below the Rift with the humans.

How many Jotnar had fallen to her chaos-laden greatsword? A hundred? Two hundred? Too many.

Eru wondered how things had gone so wrong in the span of his single life.

Before him, when his father was the Thamir head, the White Voice began to fade, her guidance turning into whispers, then those whispers becoming ever the less frequent.

That was when gods began to drive the Jotnar out. When the war goddess began her slaughter.

When Eru became the head, taking the Shard of Succession from his father, he dealt not with gods and men, but with the rise of the Draconids.

Mighty, fierce creatures that knew only blood and battle whose zealous drive stemmed from a beholding to what they believed was the White Voice, though Eru and the Jotnar knew well that their voice was no true will of the world.

But now, the Draconids were far too many and far too strong. The rise of that one, the one they called the Exile, the one that possessed himself a Shard of Succession, was far too much.

Eru's Shard was dimming.

Its power had been used far too many times, and unlike the Exile, he did not implant the Shard within himself, for doing so was heretical to Jotnar tradition. He wielded it as a weapon, implanted within a staff.

Thus, while Eru's shard lost its light over time, unable to recharge itself with a slumbering White Voice, the Exile only grew more and more strength, like a storm gaining snow and wind as its own body nourished and cultivated the Shard.

Perhaps the Draconids were the true successors of the White Voice. They did have a Shard, after all.

Perhaps not. The humans had stolen Shards as well, using them to fuel mighty weapons or structures.

The presence of a Shard alone necessitated nothing.

The only infallible truth was that the White Voice was gone, or if present, reduced to but the faintest of whispers.

And because the White Voice was gone, the Jotnar knew well: the world was dying.

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The gods and the humans might not understand, disconnected from the White Voice as they were, but the world would not last like this. There would come a time when the great end would near, when the empires the gods had created with the great sin of stealing from the world would come to haunt them.

Everything would collapse. Everything would return to one.

Thus, the Cyclic Slumber.

The Jotnar of Thamir would rest, deep within the earth, within the waters between the realms where no gods nor men could reach, until this cycle ended, when everything returned to one. Then, they would emerge once more, seeding life as they were meant to.

Eru himself had proposed this plan when he saw that the other clans fell to the Draconids. But he could not shake off the feeling that this was simply the coward's way out. He would leave the remaining Jotnar to fight against the Draconids and inevitably fall. He would leave the countless lives of the Common Body to face endless war and destruction.

And he could not shirk the memories he had made with the humans.

They were lives born and raised on this world too. Corrupted by the gods, yes, but still of this world, and Jotnar were meant to respect all life nourished from the womb and breath of the world.

Eru did not know of a way to reverse the end of this Cycle, but he held out the last embers of hope within him that there was someone else that would.

Perhaps one of the remaining warrior Jotnar would find a way. Perhaps a human uncorrupted by the gods would find a way.

Somewhere, something – this vagueness was what Eru hoped would save this world, and yet, it was the best he could do.

Thus, Eru left his Shard embedded within his arm, guarded with Jotnar runic magic that no god could ever hope to pierce, not in this Grain, not in that deep place so charged with remnants of the world's life.

Eru had not heard the White Voice for a hundred years now, but anything or anyone that could would be worthy to take the Shard from his arm and make better use of it than he had. To find him and his brethren in the waters between the realms and tell them that there was still hope for the world as they knew it.

Eru yawned, feeling drowsy from preparing for the Cyclic Slumber. All that was to be thought about later. Now, he let his eye, a ball of gleaming blue light that trailed a small comet tail of faint white with its movements, settle on the human corpses.

They had attacked Eru when he was weak, after he had spent his mana on the ritual and torn apart his arm, but he was still Eru Wun Thamir, the Fist of Winter, and no simple human was ever going to end him.

However, he did not relish the feeling of ending these lives. There had been far too much death already, and the Jotnar were not a people meant to kill, they were a people meant to raise and give life.

Eru took in a deep breath, large wind currents streaming into his stony, statuesque face, causing the stiff hairs of his long beard of ice shards to quiver. Spiral patterns of dark blue around his chest and body began to glow.

Potential.

This was what Eru believed in.

Every living thing had potential beyond their means. Beyond the physical capabilities they were given or the circumstances forced upon them. These humans, too, though they had struck at Eru, though they, like all Common lives like them, were slaves to the whims of the gods, had the potential to be more.

They also had the potential to be less. To waste the lives that Eru would grant them.

But Eru was more optimistic than most. He believed that mercy brought out the best in others. That with mercy, you came to understand what you had to lose and how with the chance you were given, you could stand to achieve so much more, to have the potential to be so much more.

Eru channeled this mercy and breathed-

The Collector found itself abruptly placed back into its own body, analyzing what had occurred. By opening the Jotnar core, it had been given access to an embedded memory within it.

The Collector had initially thought the core incomplete in the sense that it had not directly devoured the heart of the specimen, and thus would not have included any direct psionic profile material within it such as memories.

However, such was not the case.

In lieu of the memories it had assimilated, the Collector could ascertain that this was because when the Jotnar in question had sacrificed its arm, it had implanted within it a vast portion of its magical energy along with a 'Shard of Succession' that the Collector identified as the very same shard that manifested as a diadem of white energy crowned above its head.

The magical energy that the Jotnar infused into its arm essentially retained a blueprint of its core and a vast amount of its original essence. No, to be more precise, the Jotnar had essentially transferred its core into the arm, meaning that shortly after that memory, it likely had expired, rapidly losing its memory, proper circulation of mana, and facing heart failure.

Even then, the Jotnar had utilized its last moments to breathe in life to humans that had been its aggressor.

The Collector began to understand the Jotnar's conception of mercy better now.

The Jotnar believed that mercy was a means to grant another a chance to fulfill their purpose. A chance that could be utilized or squandered, but a chance none the less. The giant had felt compassion towards the lives it granted mercy to because they were misguided in striking it, and it felt forgiveness for them because they had the potential to be more.

This, the Collector could begin to understand by trying to relate to it with its own memories and experiences. It could feel this very same mercy towards the goblins.

The Collector already granted these goblins mercy.

Mercy such that they were not utilized as mere pawns for bags of flesh to soak damage. In part because the Collector desired to utilize them at full operational capacity without a chance of dissent, but also because the Collector had felt it was right to some fundamental degree that it could not have grasped before.

Now that the Collector had felt the Jotnar's emotions, it came to understand what this fundamental degree was. It was in some small measure the idea of compassion, though of a far more muted level than that which the Jotnar felt.

But enough for the Collector to relate, and because it could relate, it could regulate the Jotnar core far better, taking down the searing heat within it into a manageable warmth.

The Collector would grant these goblins mercy to save them from death, for as the Jotnar had felt the potential of life, so too did the Collector feel that the goblins possessed the potential to fulfill their yet unrealized purpose.

They had followed the Collector only for short time, and they had now just begun to grasp their purpose alongside the Collector.

It was not their time to expire. They had yet more time to stand beside the Collector in unified purpose.

The dark blue spiral patterns around the Collector's chest glowed deeply, and then the Collector exhaled. A cloud of misty frost pooled out from the Collector's maw, forming a network of crystalline glints that quickly washed over the goblin corpses.

As these sparkling glints rested on the corpses, they collected on their wounds. Flesh began to knit back together as mana charged, life giving mana crystals embedded into damaged cells or formed entirely new ones.

New muscle fibers formed, but instead of being comprised of ordinary, red and raw flesh, they were nor chords of hardened yet flexible ice. As the new artificial flesh formed, they pushed out bullet casings out and scattered them across the snow.

Blood vessels became charged with the ice crystals, and they began to stimulate the flow of movement, pumping blood now icy into hearts, circulating the crystals further throughout the body.

The goblin corpses shuddered and began to twitch and convulse as their hearts beat erratically, adjusting to the sudden overflow of magical energy. Their bodies altered, their white skin becoming instead a pale blue as their wounds healed and crystal formations of ice began to sprout out from points in their skin.

Their eyes became a deep, dark, almost gemstone blue, widening as they opened and started to light up with life.

"Arise, my swarm," said the Collector as it pumped out magical energy of its own to accelerate the process, its blue aura of Unity type mana meant for creating and healing fluxing outwards into thin, snaking paths that latched onto every single goblin specimen.

The three goblin elites were the first to begin moving, stiffly starting to raise themselves to seated positions, though their blank expressions indicated that their minds had not yet fully been restored yet.

"Once more, will you join me in our Great Purpose."

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The Collector watched as the carrier unit was the first one to stand up in full control of himself, and, judging by the unbroken and normal wavelengths of mental energies transferred via the Higher Calling link, the specimen was in full control over itself.

"Where…where am I?" mumbled the goblin elite as he shook his head slowly, feeling his senses return to him. He tried to take a step and stumbled before catching himself from falling. But almost as soon as he stumbled, he righted himself, and then his eyes, now blue instead of red, widened in surprise.

The unit stared at his hands, at their icy white sheen, and cocked his head, his tusks of ice now tilting with him.

"I thought I was dead," said the unit. "But I feel strong. Stronger than ever before."

The carrier unit, as if to prove his point, stomped his foot into the snowy ground, driving up a small cloud of snow and shattered rock from the forceful blow – a show of power that would have been impossible for it before.

"You had faced systematic expiration," stated the Collector. "But with new adaptations that I have procured due in some part to the efforts of your swarm, I have no gained the capacity to reverse dramatic failure of internal and external systems."

"My king, is that you?" said the carrier unit as he stared with fanged jaws agape at the Collector's new form. He shook his head. "No, of course it is you. I can sense it."

Immediately, the carrier unit knelt down to the ground with his head bowed. "You have saved me. Saved me from death itself. I do not know how you did it, I am too dumb to understand truly, but you have beat death."

The specimen began to shiver even though the Collector knew that he was well equipped to deal with the cold, now more so than ever because of the enhanced cellular nourishment generated via the Collector's Breath of Life.

"Why is it that you exhibit signs of distress from lowered temperature? Such a reaction should not be possible given your current state of elevated capabilities."

"It is not that, my king," said the carrier unit as he stared up at the Collector with a reverence that was unlike any that the Collector had perceived from him beforehand.

This was the reverence that the Collector had seen when the goblin swarm perceived when it had conjured up its flames, defying the cold of this winter waste. It was a reverence that transcended the respect granted to figures of authority or simply those higher up on a social ladder, this was the type of awe that came to manifest when one believed another not just above, but truly transcendent.

"I…I know I died. When the stone birds struck me with their pellets, I felt my blood leave my body, and then I went dizzy, and then the darkness came. I fell into it, I was gone. I was dead." The carrier unit held his arms together in vulnerability completely unbecoming of it, but the feeling of overcoming the finality of death must have been unsettling to large degree.

"But you brought me back," said the carrier unit. He bowed his head in true reverence. "You are not only our king. To defeat death: you are a god. God over death."

"Do not so easily categorize me with the entities that tinkerers bow themselves before," stated the Collector. "But you may refer to me any way you desire, so long as the terminology reflects satisfactory loyalty."

"Loyalty? My life is owed to you many times over," said the carrier unit. "Loyalty is only the beginning of what I can give you."

"That is satisfactory then," stated the Collector as it now noted that the two other elites, previously mindless and created from the Burial Tusks, had managed to stand now, gaining their bearings.

The Collector could tell that the nature of their magical auras was different. Their flow was a little more disorderly which indicated that they were no longer mindless beings akin to drones.

Instead, they were processing independent emotions that caused fluctuations in their magical energy, and this in turn allowed the Collector to surmise that they had broken free of being bound from the Burial Tusks, no doubt given more complete life by the Breath of Life.

"Brother…what is this?" said one of the elites as he put one of his hands to his head, rubbing it.

The other elite grunted in response. "Both of us were torn asunder by the earth goddess. No doubt, we have entered the gates of Goblunn where warriors such as ourselves belong."

"Far too cold and bleak for gates that promise paradise," came the response before both of them gained more of their senses and immediately stared at the Collector, sensing its pressure of magical energy.

"Submit to my will," stated the Collector, utilizing Higher Calling for the twin elites, having been reanimated and gaining their minds back, had also broken free of any prior Higher Calling.

Both elites felt the Collector's words wash over them and knelt down.

"There was no need to project your authority over us, good lord," said an elite.

"We of the First Hand have always sworn to serve the voice of our lords. Through life and death," said the other.

"He is no mere lord," said the carrier unit. "He is a king. A god king."

"A god-king?" The elites looked up at the Collector and stared specifically at the shard primed on the Collector's crown of white energy. "Has the great god Gob returned in the flesh?

No, but this pressure, this presence, no doubt, there is some of Gob within you, O great one, and your crown of succession cannot be questioned."

One of the goblin elites punched a fist into the snow as a form of introduction. "My name is Goromir of clan Zoll."

The other elite followed. "And I am Kandak, also of clan Zoll."

In unison, they spoke, almost in a chant. "As elites of the First Hand, we shall act as your fists and tusks. As twins born of the same flesh, we have trained and been blessed with the Old Blood. We will rise to any challenge you lay before us. We will serve your through life and death."

"Hey, that is my role!" objected the carrier unit Thokk.

"Who is this uncouth elite?" said Goromir as he gave a judging side eye to Thokk. "Who knows not proper etiquette?"

"Tis' true, brother," said Kandak. "Look at the way he carries himself. That is no trained elite. He knows not how the fight. No true elite can he be called. "

Kandak stared at Thokk. "So how can you call yourself among the First Hand of the king?"

"Huh!?" Thokk took in a breath, pumping his strength up. He no doubt was confused by many of the things the other elites said, for the elites showcased knowledge that indicated they hailed from a far different time.

Yet, the intentions in the elites were clear. This was a sign of dominance, and the carrier unit was not going to simply let them usurp it.

"You doubt me? I was with the king far before you two. Come on, I fight you now! Prove you two weak!"

"Only one of us need to show you the immaturity of your mind and body," said Kandak. He nodded to his brother with a slight grunt, a throaty expression that the Collector perceived was part of their language but lost among the current generation of goblins.

"Show this upstart what it truly means to be of the First Hand, brother."

"Gladly," said Goromir before he stood up and bowed his head to the Collector, clasping his four fists together in ceremonial gesture that no doubt indicated great respect.

"Do you grant permission for this duel, O great king? No, not merely king, for you are graced with the true light. O great Sovran?" said Goromir to the Collector. "It shall prove that we are truly worthy of defending you."

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The Collector listened to this request and determined the efficiency of acquiescing to it. Time was of essence right now, for the Collector knew not whether dwarven reinforcements would appear.

Yet, simulated calculations proved that reinforcements, though they likely would arrive, would do so slowly. The fleet had been utterly cut off from all communications, and it would take an extended period of time for their absence to be noted.

Judging from calculations extrapolated by the level of messaging technology they likely had and their engine and thruster capacities for their aircraft, the Collector estimated it still possessed three days before any real external dwarven presence would be noted.

What was difficult to consider, however, was that when the dwarven absence was made known among their kind, it was not only their kind that would respond, but also that this information would be disseminated among other tinkering variants such as the humans.

The Collector had to leave this area and cross the Rift before then.

Yet, before that time, the Collector had significant time to assess its new capabilities which included some level of further experimentation with its Higher Calling ability and its recovered adaptation to create drones.

And beyond that, the Collector now had to consider the needs of the swarm, particularly with the development of the two elite units now having their own minds. There was the flash of pride in their eyes, and so too did this pride show with the carrier unit.

Breaking off an engagement here would only further resentment between the units, for the desire to vie for pack supremacy was one the Collector was familiar with as it being a primal part of evolutionary development, though the Collector itself had never engaged in such for the Collective was a Hivemind wherein all hierarchical structure was permanently set and never questioned.

"I will allow it," stated the Collector. It was also curious of the newfound battle capabilities of the goblins now that they were infused with the Breath of Life. In addition, the goblin elites, with their own minds, could also observe more strategic usage of their physical skills.

It was apparent that the elites possessed a great deal more experience in wielding their bodies than did the carrier unit. How that difference was expressed the Collector was also curious of.

The rest of the swarm were beginning to arise as well, and the Collector moved to organize them and speak to them such that they were not confused.

Five minutes later, and the Collector had an entire swarm of goblins bowing before it, proclaiming it as a deity. The elites and the elder hailed the Collector specifically as of the blood of Gob and a 'Sovran'. As to what that truly meant, the Collector would ascertain later.

For now, after having calmed from the novelty of being pulled from death, the goblin swarm crowded around in a ring with the elite united Goromir and the carrier unit Thokk in the center, roaring and cheering on for a duel.

The fall of Grain raged around two elites as they circled each other tentatively.

Thokk was tense, pale white lips curled back in a half snarl as he kept his body tensed up.

Meanwhile, Goromir moved with an air of ease, his steps light and casual about the snow, his body swaying and his breathing even with a smile on his face, almost as if he was playing a game.

Of the two, Thokk was physically far larger and more imposing, being approximately eleven kilograms heavier and a head taller. In terms of magical energy levels, they were around equal, but with that being equal, Thokk's physical advantage would grant him considerable leeway.

A larger frame, thicker bones, and stronger, denser muscles from being born and adapted in this harsh environment would grant Thokk more resilience and striking strength.

Goromir, however, was obviously more well versed in the martial movement of his body, to the degree that he exuded complete confidence.

The elder presided over the circle, holding his wooden supporting staff in the air. Behind him, the Collector stood, observing.

"A proper duel is one the likes of that has never been seen among this generation of Gob," said the elder, wrinkled hands visibly shaking with excitement. "The rules…ah, they escape me."

Kandak spoke out from beside the elder. The elite's arms were crossed as he peered at the battle with rather disinterested eyes. "It is simple.

A duel among those of the same flesh line, especially that of the Elite, will fight with all that is allowed to them. They will fight with the resolve to kill, though death shall not be encouraged. As weapons have not been agreed upon, they will be forbidden, though that which is in the environment is fair game."

Kandak scanned the empty snowy lands around him. "Though there is not much to use regardless."

"Yes, yes," nodded the elder, remembering. "That is it. Ah, to hear tales of duels such as this and to hear them once more. A true marvel! Now then, fight! Fight and tear each other apart!"

"Battle to your utmost limits," reaffirmed the Collector. "By being bound to me through the life crystals that nourish your cells, I may charge these cells with my magical energy and simulate accelerated cellular restoration.

Thus, so long as you maintain proximity to me, injuries shall be of no concern."

"Hear that?" said Goromir. He flashed a fanged grin to Thokk. "We can fight to our heart's content. No excuses now, eh?"

Thokk beat his chest with his fist. "I will win! Prove to Sovnar I am still leader!"

Goromor pointed to Thokk's head, where twin blue tendrils extended out in a dreadlock – the sign of his connection with the Collector. "You are blessed by the Sovnar. But that is because the Sovnar has not had better, more suitable elites to choose from."

"Enough talk!" said Thokk. "I show you power not with words, but with fists."

"A language I am familiar with. Then get on with it. Show me what you have to offer." Goromir waved Thokk forwards with one of his hands.

Thokk charged forwards, powering his legs with magical energy that sent him surging ahead. The color of Thokk's mana was of red chaos like the Collector, so his preferred style of combat would likely focus on explosive bursts of powerful movement and blows.

A circle of snow crashed out from Thokk's charge, and it was only when Thokk was right upon Goromir that the snow was making its way back down to the ground at gravity's behest.

With a roar, Thokk sent a double punch with his two right arms towards Goromir.

Goromir saw the punches coming towards him and swayed backwards, dodging the attack. The wind pressure from Thokk's dual punches sent Grain particles flying away, and he did not let up the attack, using his two other arms to shoot out two more wild punches.

Goromir bobbed backwards, weaving his head from side to side to let each fist sail right by without hitting anything.

Thokk grunted and began to unleash a mighty flurry of blows with his four arms, and to the average human observer, the rush would have been a blur of flashing white as Thokk's arms shot out at rapidfire pace.

But Goromir swayed back, using precise head movement to evade head strikes and side stepping body blows with complete ease. The elite's movements were extremely fluid, and magical energy flowed through his body in an aura of green, indicating a mana affinity of Flow that was suited for balanced, fluid combat.

Goromir was like living water, his entire body coordinated and moving with a precise, efficient fluidity that let him evade attacks at the last moment. This was compounded by his superb flexibility and agility, and as Thokk's red chaos mana surged, making his rush of punches even faster and wilder, Goromir adapted.

At first, when the rush intensified, a few scratches appeared on Goromir's face, chest, and arms as he struggled to keep up with the sudden burst of power, but he adapted, using his agility to the fullest extent now. He twirled around to evade strong blows, swayed backwards almost ninety degrees to avoid two mighty haymakers, and pushed himself with a handstand to soar back into the air and make distance.

When Goromir landed lightly on the snow on the tips of his feet, completely balanced on a single toe, he was left smiling while Thokk huffed and puffed, his muscled barrel chest straining due to the explosively powerful yet inefficiently managed nature of chaos affinity mana.

In terms of battle, if a chaos type mana user did not end a battle quickly or in a short burst of power, then they were left at an increasing disadvantage against fighters with Flow who could regulate their mana far better, albeit with less powerful short term spikes in ability.

"Your wasted movements are uncountable," said Goromir as he eyed Thokk up and down. "You are larger than me. Your flesh has grown used to this land of cold and scarcity. But you have no grace about you. It is known to me now that some time has passed since I and my brother wandered these lands proper."

Goromir shook his head sadly. "It seems the art of Gobeira has not been passed down."

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"Gob…what?" said Thokk. He looked to the elder, and the elder simply shrugged.

"The martial ways of our people. The way of the our flesh that changes to any land whether it scorches or freezes." Goromir rolled his four shoulders and exhaled, his body growing more limp and more fluid. "You see it now. With proper flow of mana and keen, trained senses, I utilize [Shifting Form, dodging your clumsy blows with the full breadth of movement afforded to me with this blessed body of mine."

The Collector understood what Goromir spoke of. The goblin accelerated an even amount of mana flow around his body while maintaining all of his honed senses on his enemy.

By not explosively charging any one part of his body and coupled with his training and sharp observational skills, the goblin elite could respond to any attack, dodging with his extreme agility and flexibility.

Like water that changes its form to fill the container within which it is placed, the goblin could shift his movements at a moment's notice to any attack from any angle.

The Collector noted the drastic difference in martial skill the elite known as Goromir observed as contrasted to when he had fought the Collector as a summon of the goblin lord.

Then, when the specimen known as 'Goromir' was mostly mindless, he did not possess the adequate access to his memories and control over self to fully show his strength.

Had both the twin specimens Goromir and Kandak fully possessed their martial skills in that fight with the Collector, the Collector would have spent significantly more time dealing with them and, as an extension, been less equipped to deal with the appearance of the golden winged humanoid.

"Fancy jumps and spins." Thokk grumbled. "But no punching. Just running. Fight!"

"You believe [Shifting Form] has no fangs of its own? I will show you how misguided you are." Goromir was the one that rushed in this time.

Thokk grunted and kept his arms forward, ready to strike or intercept anything that came his way. He was like a wide oak rooted into the ground whereas Goromir's leaner, more lithe body shot forward like a bullet meant for precise, lethal killing.

Thokk, pumped up with anger and adrenaline as he was, fueled by the shouts of a swarm that had been his brethren for most of his life, did not shell up in a guard, instead, he struck again. Two twin punches converging on Goromir's head and two other punches leading to the body.

The crowd swelled in excitement as the strikes shot forwards, boosted by yet another burst of chaos mana, but then a collective gasp spread among them. It almost appeared as if Goromir had simply disappeared with Thokk's twin strikes striking only air, wind whistling across his arms as his fists flew past nothing.

The Collector's sharpened senses, however, had easily perceived what had happened.

Goromir was on the ground. He had slipped down backwards onto the ground, lying almost completely flat on his back to evade the strikes. Two of his fists were planted behind his head on the snow, and through these, he lifted himself up into a quick handstand.

With his other pair of arms, Goromir struck two precise strikes on Thokk's exposed ankles, buckling his knees and sending him spilling forwards with a pained grunt.

Goromir pushed up powerfully with the arms supporting his handstand while straightening his body like a whip of energy, sending out a double kick that drove right up at Thokk's chin.

The blow sent Thokk flying half a dozen meters in the air, his head snapped back with shards of shattered and flecks of blood flying everywhere.

Thokk landed heavily on the snow face down, the black Grain particulates growing even darker as the blood pooling from his mouth started to paint it.

Goromir supported himself fully on one hand now, and then, to show off even more, one finger, holding his body completely upright upside down and vertically through nothing but the surface area contact made from that single digit.

"This is the might of the [Shifting Form," said Goromir. "React to any attack with movement. As our flesh shifts to match any land that comes before us, so too can our flesh arts react to any move, any strike."

The crowd of the swarm was silent at first, marveling at the sudden development, but then they began to cheer and shout, excited by the display of martial superiority. However, they bated their breaths again when the carrier unit rose up again.

Thokk spat out shattered teeth chunks with a mouthful of blood. The liquid, now a near black shade of blue due to the Breath of Life altering his physiology, did not freeze like regular blood, retaining its liquid state of matter even in the extremely frigid temperatures of this environment.

Aside from a mouth lacking proper dentures, slight lacerations in the cheeks and lip, and a fractured chin, Thokk was still conscious and capable of fighting.

The full force blow should have by all rights nearly knocked his head off his neck, and the Collector had been watching with close intent to quickly heal the carrier unit in the case that it had sustained a near lethal injury.

"How he get back up!? His head should be gone!" came a questioning voice from the watching swarm, and many agreed with it and spoke among themselves.

Goromir narrowed his eyes in analysis, and the Collector perceived that the elite had understood what had happened.

"I thought my blow had struck strangely light," said Goromir. "You swayed back at the very last moment instead of resisting the blow, reducing damage to yourself greatly."

He nodded in respect. "Impressive. One's instincts tells them to tense up when they see a strike coming their way, and that only makes the blow worse. But you instinctively flowed back with the attack with little to no training at all.

Your martial instincts are sharp. Your attunement with your flesh is high. You have great potential."

"Kind words will not stop me from fighting!" said Thokk. He flashed a broken toothed smile and started to edge forwards, his rippling musculature tensed up as he readied to battle again.

"Good." Goromir smiled too, battle lust overflowing around him as his green aura surged. He charged in with accelerated mana flow, and Thokk raised a brow in surprise.

Goromir closed the distance between them in an instant and then started to go down low.

Thokk saw this, and the Collector agreed that Thokk's martial instincts were sharp. Thokk would not fall for the same attack twice.

The Collector predicted that Thokk would counter the same type of blow from Goromir as before.

Thokk shot out his burly leg in a fast low kick, but he did not lean into it.

A non-committal move where he could easily move backwards or sideways to dodge unexpected attacks.

An optimal strike in a situation where he did not know the full capabilities of his opponent.

Goromir going low was a feint, however.

When his hands touched the ground, instead of going up in a handstand and taking the low kick, he instead pushed up from his hands and flipped in the air, generating rotational momentum that drove into an axe kick towards Thokk's head.

The sudden transition from going low to a jumping axe kick was lightning fast, but Thokk was more prepared this time.

Thokk used his upper two arms to form a guard above his skull, condensing red mana on them in a solid [Guard].

Goromir's heel slammed into Thokk's arms with the solid crack not of flesh hitting flesh, but rock crashing against rock for both goblins' flesh were enhanced by mana and further reinforced by Breath of Life ice crystals.

Thokk's lower two arms thrusted and grasped on Goromir's leg at the calf.

"Now you die!" shouted Thokk in pure excitement as he pulled backwards, using his prodigious size and strength to swing Goromir back, planning to then swing him forward, dashing him against the ground to crush him.

Goromir became a blue-white blur as Thokk swung him backwards with high speed, but when Thokk roared and slammed him down, the Collector clicked its mandibles in understanding.

Thokk looked down to the ground in pure surprise.

When Thokk had swung Goromir back to make more distance to slam Goromir down, Goromir had taken this chance to snake his legs around Thokk's lower two arms.

Goromir's lower pair of arms then circled around and pinned Thokk's upper arms, and finally, Goromir's upper pair of arms wrapped around Thokk's neck in a tight lock.

This all happened in the span of a single instant.

A complicated series of movements and maneuvers performed with almost rote efficiency – a telltale sign of having been practiced and honed from years of training.

Thokk gurgled as he stumbled forwards, the breathing cut from his neck and all of his limbs completely bound by Goromir.

Goromir's muscles swelled and tensed as he put as much of his power possible into the submission hold, especially with the arms around Thokk's neck.

"You fought well. Accept your loss," said Goromir.

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Thokk's eyes bulged as the blood stopped circulating to his head, but he did not surrender. Instead, as bloody blue spittle frothed from his mouth, he leaped into the air and fell down on his back, crashing down heavily on top of Goromir.

Goromir grunted at the impact, but held firm, his body reinforced by accelerated flow. [Flow Accel] did enhance durability, speed, and strength, but because it boosted everything evenly and continuously, it was not nearly as effective as specialized mana applications such as [Guard] or [Dispersal].

Thus, Goromir should have sustained good damage, especially considering Thokk's raw power, but Goromir was trained to take pain.

Thokk did this again. He did not have the energy to leap up this time, but instead slammed his back into the ground again, swiveling his head back into a headbutt. Thokk's head made contact with Goromir's nose and shattered in completely, but Goromir simply breathed out clots of blood and bone and held Thokk even tighter.

Then, it was over.

Thokk fell unconscious, the breath choked out of him and his tongue lolling out through his shattered teeth.

Goromir let go and shoved Thokk's heavy body off of him with a deep breath.

Goromir stood up and pumped two fists into the air, and the swarm cheered at the spectacle of a battle.

"Ah, to revel in the cheers of a proper duel. It does bring me back," said Goromir. He nodded at the attention and then immediately knelt down by Thokk, checking his vitals with a hand to his heart and neck. "Alive. To be expected. You are a tough one. Stubborn, too."

"Hear me, all you who are of the Champion bloodline!" said Goromir. "Your leader was mighty, and I do not wish to take his place when his potential is such that it may even eclipse myself. Keep him close to you, for he knows you far better than I, a stranger from a stranger time still, does."

"Then what was the point of the duel?" asked the elder.

"To move my body properly after the centuries, I suppose," said Goromir. He then looked to the Collector and bowed his head. "And to prove my worth to the Sovnar."

"Your worth as a combat capable specimen has already been analyzed," said the Collector. "As has the potential of this entire swarm now that it has received the benefits of the Breath of Life."

The Collector raised an open palm towards Thokk's unconscious body. It closed its hand, its metallic black claws clinking in contact. Magical energy flowed out from the Collector in ghostly blue strands, curling out from the fingers and into thin wisps surrounding Thokk.

Thokk's pale white body immediately rose up, fully conscious. His fractured jaw, lacerated mouth, and minor disorientation from loss of oxygen were completely resolved in a single instant. This was regenerative capability exceeding that granted by Higher Calling and did not require completely enslaving the specimen as well.

Overall, the Collector determined that with the evolution of all the goblin specimen through Higher Calling along with the addition of the Breath of Life enhancing them at the cellular level, even the basic champion units were just shy of the four-star adventurer's battle capacity.

The elite units would pose a highly favorable fight against the four-star adventurer with the new elite units known as 'Goromir' and 'Kandak' defeating the adventurer in 90% of all potential simulations the Collector ran in its processing system, with the remaining 10% accounting for sudden surprises from the four-star adventurer's varied abilities.

A fighting force of this caliber would allow the Collector to easily overrun a basic human settlement such as that which it analyzed the outskirts of when it was in the biome of the Darkwoods. However, this swarm would still not be able to reliably fend against a strong individual unit such as the golden winged humanoid.

However, with the infinite regeneration granted by the Breath of Life, the Collector could still conceivably utilize the units at the least as body bags and distractions, and with the significance of death having become less meaningful, they would as individuals be likely more receptive to it.

In any case, the Collector would have to instruct the elder and the elites to inculcate more sentiment among the champion units to be more willing to expend their lives to death's door in situations where such became necessary.

For now, however, the Collector had to begin moving.

"You are now in restored condition," said the Collector to Thokk. "You will remain as my carrier unit, for I sense that it has now become a title worthy of honor that I shall not strip from you."

The Collector motioned to Goromir. "Yet, your victory shall not go unnoticed. You and your brethren elite specimen desire to be my personal guard. Agreeable."

Kandak came up beside his brother and the two elites bowed their heads while crossing their fists over their hearts. "We serve as your First Hand, great Sovnar."

"As the quantity of this swarm grows, so too will the need for more carrier units. First, we mobilize, for time is limited." The Collector began to move, and its intent spread throughout the swarm.

"Towards the dungeon of the specimen once known as the 'Stormbear'. There, this swarm shall reconvene with the force left behind within the dungeon. I sense yet that the units in the dungeon are still alive, their vitals functioning properly.

That indicates that the champion's evolution into an elite has concluded, creating another strong body with potential to lead.

When the entire swarm is gathered there, I shall utilize some time to conduct additional experimentations, ascending another unit to carrier status for I intend to split this swarm into two.

One half of this swarm shall remain in this land and take control of the rest of the goblin tribes and bring them within the fold. It will conquer as many dungeons as possible, creating a network of surveillance through which any tinkering attack or movement may be sensed ahead of time.

The other half of the swarm will accompany me in crossing the Rift."

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The Collector made quick progress back to the Stormbear dungeon with its swarm. It did not move at maximal speed, however, which would have involved taking all of the goblins with Sapia and transporting them with its flight.

This would have cost a great deal of magical energy. Approximately forty percent of the Collector's total reserves for the full-length trip. An enormous improvement from before when any usage of Sapia would have greatly reduced the Collector's mana reserves.

The royal daemon's blood was incredibly well attuned with Sapia, yet still highly specialized towards direct application of forces instead. However, the Collector estimated its force related powers were essentially on par with its physical prowess by now, perhaps even exceeding them when pumping in prodigious quantities of mana to fuel them in short bursts.

Even so, the Collector would not waste its mana on Sapia to move forces unless time was of critical essence, and there was still time that it calculated was enough to freely move to the dungeon and towards the Rift before tinkering presences intensified.

Especially more so now that the goblin swarm had been enhanced with the Breath of Life, greatly increasing their physical capabilities and mobility. Even the elder had gained greatly enhanced functionality, restoring his blindness, ability to utilize magic, and regaining physical independence.

While the Collector led the swarm towards the dungeon, it engaged in thorough discussion with relevant units for information.

The Collector gleaned important information from the twin goblin elites known as 'Kandak' and 'Goromir' about the era of goblin dominance known as the 'old age'. Through them, the Collector came to know the history of the goblin species and the nature of the world surrounding them.

The goblins were said to have been created from a deific figure known as 'Gob', an entity that was one of seven specimens known as 'titans' that the gods defeated to assert their dominance upon this world.

Each titan possessed shards of the personified world's will, the 'White Voice' that the Collector had come to know and knew was embedded intrinsically within it, and when they were defeated, their shards were scattered.

The goblin species became independent of Gob and retained a shard, utilizing its power to create a kingdom for themselves. They were friendly with the rest of the tinkering species for they shared many commonalities with each other, and their kingdom stood tall for slightly over five hundred years.

However, when the Common Body was established, uniting all humanoid races, the goblins refused, for entering the body would force them to give up their shard to the gods. This led to severe retaliation, and the goblin kingdom was destroyed asunder in the matter of a few years.

The goblin race was scattered across the world and forced to survive without the aid of their civilization, causing them to adapt and return to their primal ways as simpler, more bestial beings.

Goromir and Kandak had perished a century before the goblins were properly attacked by the gods, but their bodies had remained in service through being entombed in the Burial Tusks. Yet, they did remember that the goblin race had always had some conflict with a specific goddess named Hwara.

A goddess of earth, as she was called, and based on the elites' accounts, possessed the power to create seismic disturbances easily capable of shattering entire mountains.

Power the Collector could not challenge yet, though it was nearing that threshold.

Another notable fact to note was that the goblin kingdom was not located in this realm. It was located in the realm known as Xin before its destruction, and there too, the goddess Hwara operated.

Goromir and Kandak were doubtful that any trace of the goblin civilization was left behind, but they held out hope that remnants of their civilization remained in a state of stasis separate from harm in much the same way the Jotnar slept.

This stasis was a large scale ritual called the Sarkophagos, and it was derived through the bone binding that allowed Goromir and Kandak to be fully compacted within their Burial Tusks.

Or rather, Goromir and Kandak did not call it bone binding.

They called it 'Spellweaving', a mystical art that had been taught to their magically attuned kind that had been disciples of the Three Masks, a trio of entities that were all known as 'Facestealers' and were also creatures that were born under Gob.

The Collector determined that bone binding was a degenerated version of Spellweaving that retained only its basics, knowledge having been lost over nearly a millennium since the goblins had fallen.

Sarkophagos involved first entering into a meditative sleep and then the construction of a cocoon through pieces of the fallen entity Gob's flesh.

The resulting flesh cocoon, highly attuned with primal energy for the titan was born directly of the world, would react with environmental pockets of high primal energy and transport those within into a theoretical area known as the 'White Space'.

A space between the realms where supposedly the White Voice existed.

Purely theoretical in the sense that the ritual was not well understood, having only been planned during Goromir and Kandak's age, a full century before the goblin kingdom truly fell.

Compounding this was the fact that as a prideful people, the goblins had even railed against their Spellweavers that had theorized the plan in the first place, believing they could still win against the gods over time.

Thus, the Sarkophagus had likely not been fully researched and devised until the goblin kingdom was truly at its last legs.

Yet, as members of the First Hand, an elite guard that personally served lords and the king, Goromir and Kandak were privy to some details regarding the ritual should it ever happen.

Specifically, they knew how many would be entombed in the case that their civilization fell.

The goblin kingdom possessed thirty lords ruling five thousand goblins each with a single king above them all.

The king had been slain by the time the entombment ritual began, and this catalyzed the lords to begin their entombment to escape destruction from the gods.

Thirty lords, the king, and hosts of elites and top spellweavers numbering ten thousand was the optimally planned number of entombed specimens to enter the Sarkophagus.

Evidently, however, the process had not been perfect.

The goblin lord the Collector encountered had possessed only a small dungeon, lacking his entire host. The lord had to rely on pulling forces from the current generation of weakened goblins.

Even Goromir and Kandak were simply akin to an item that had survived with the lord, for by that time, they had already been entombed in their Burial Tusks.

Likely, most of the goblins had been eradicated by the time they had fallen back on the Sarkophagus.

Goromir and Kandak did theorize, however, that though the lords in Terra, where the goblin kingdom's heart stood, were likely fully eliminated, fringe lords that had reigned in other realms could still be asleep with their troops.

These, the Collector could travel to and resurrect if it found the primal energy charged areas they had used to transport themselves to this 'White Space'.

The Collector had thought the goblin species too weak to truly harness long term, but now it began to reconsider. If most of these lords and their hosts were intact, then the Collector could easily begin to obtain the might of a full realized swarm numbering into the thousands.

Yet, a goal for the farther future, for neither the elites nor the Collector knew at all the specific locations of where the goblins had entombed themselves.

The elder, however, theorized that the Facestealer that lived in this biome would know, for it had been a contemporary of both the rise and fall of the goblin kingdom.

Thus, the Collector was further reinforced in its course of action.

First, to travel past the Rift. Obtain power. Defeat the stronger draconid specimen. Take the shard from that specimen. Investigate the slumbering Jotnar to consume them or bring them to its cause. Investigate the World Dungeon where presumably the Collector now knew a titan would lay.

If that titan specimen still remained, the Collector would not hesitate in consuming it. It had taken all of the gods with their combined might to defeat the titans, and if the Collector managed to obtain the form of even one, it would vastly outmatch almost anything upon this world in single combat.

Then, the Collector would traverse below the Rift and encounter the Facestealer. It would question the Facestealer or obtain information forcibly from it, potentially devouring it, and with it, the Collector theorized it would possess an enhanced version of Higher Calling that could allow it to evolve the goblins into heights that would easily match even the upper echelons of power in this world.

Potentially even the capacity to bring humanoids other than goblins under its thrall.

Then to gather the remnant goblins and evolve all of them. A mass army of evolved and undying specimen.

At that point, the Collector could initiate a mass scale attack against these so-called 'gods' and tear them limb from limb, devouring them and their immense power until it became the supreme organism upon this world.

It would fight worthy battle after worthy battle, god after god, ripping and tearing until finally, it became a perfect being.

And then when no more on this world could challenge it, it would -

No. The Collector stopped its train of thought.

It had to bring forth its Great Purpose.

Once the Collector finished its goals past the Rift, it would return and infiltrate the city utilizing the Facestealer's abilities. There, it would access the greater warp gate within and contact the Collective, bringing forth a proper Dawning.

This had been its initial goal.

It did not know why it had strayed from them so greatly.

The Collector clicked its mandibles and continued ahead to the Stormbear dungeon, increasing its pace.

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The time to the Stormbear dungeon was less than half it was going out of it to Vimur, for now the Collector no longer had to stop its flight for the relatively slower goblin swarm.

To be certain, the swarm was still vastly slower than the Collector, but they were still faster now, fast enough that the Collector did not feel it was wasting too much inefficient time by staying in their midst.

They sprinted through the snow with nigh inexhaustible stamina, for the Breath of Life ice crystals enriching their cells were highly responsive to primally charged environments, granting them increased metabolic function and mana regeneration in areas of Grainfall.

The Collector flew over them, or rather, it hovered, utilizing the flight granted to it via its shard of succession.

On that regard, the Collector had attempted to glean as much information as it could about the nature of this entity known as the 'White Voice'.

The elder, now with his memory a little more fresh due to rejuvenation via the White Voice, had more to say about this.

The White Voice was the manifestation of a planetary will. If the Collector could equate it to any metaphorical element, it believed it apt to state that if a planetary core was its own independent specimen, then such was the White Voice.

The analogue seemed accurate in many ways. The White Voice was said to emanate from deep within the planet, presumably in an area approximated with a true planetary core.

Whether the White Voice was actually a core or a biological specimen proper was left undecided.

This analysis, too, surprised the Collector in small measure, for it had grown to readily accept any explanations that just two weeks prior would have sounded logically impossible, breaching knowledge of all natural laws it had been implanted with.

Now, however, the Collector understood the versatile nature of magic and how it could render once thought impossibilities as realities and simply adjusted its mode of thought to accommodate it.

The White Voice seemed to possess a regulatory role among specimens on the world unrelated to tinkerers.

The more 'natural' creatures, as it were. Primal energy was sourced from it, and because primal energy was simply the expression of mana from the environment, the Collector surmised that essentially, the pathways of environmental mana it saw all around it were like spirit roots for this 'White Voice', with the planetary core, of course, being like a magical core as well.

In that regard, the White Voice was the most powerful entity by far the Collector knew of, encompassing an entire planet's worth of mass and presumably magical energy. Yet, said entity's expression of its power was vastly limited in many ways.

Firstly, the White Voice seemed to operate mostly in a regulatory manner that did not intervene, only merely keeping a balance on its world surface. It did not truly have any biases among certain living specimen over others.

This, the Collector could derive from how the elder revered the White Voice as a voice that 'spoke for all', granting both life and death in equal measures so that the cycle of nature could continue unthwarted.

It would seem also that the White Voice also functioned as a prototypical deity among more primitive tinkerers or intelligent creatures. However, vastly distinct from the 'gods' which were implied to be spacefaring by the White Voice itself.

The implications of that confirmation, the Collector had already processed but would not expand into detail yet.

Secondly, the White Voice did could not exert enough direct power to defeat the gods which, according to the elder and the elites, it was opposed to.

The White Voice had raised titans to face the gods, implying that the White Voice could not independently destroy other beings, it had to rely on creations, 'children' as it had put it.

The Collector now being one of them.

Thirdly, the White Voice was vastly weakened, though through what mechanisms, the Collector could not be entirely certain.

The Collector knew for certain the White Voice was decayed simply from the short interaction they had together, and it also knew the Voice's intentions as well for the Voice had projected its desire of eliminating the gods onto the Collector.

A goal the Collector had found agreeable. It had already planned to overcome and devour these 'gods' after all.

But as for why the White Voice was deteriorated - a fact that was known not only among the goblins but also the Jotnar that sought advanced hibernation to awaken to an age where the Voice was renewed – there was little evidence to glean.

The elder had thought the White Voice had faded from the world due to the loss of the titans, her 'children' as it was said, rendering her too weak, for she had split shards of her primordial essence among them, and now, these shards were scattered.

This, the Collector could find as an acceptable explanation and defaulted to it, though it was still open t others. Even with the elder's memories ridden of the fog of senility, that did not change the fact that the elder's knowledge came from hearsay and secondary sources such as orally transmitted folktale.

True answers to all these, however, the Collector would find beyond the Rift.

To the Jotnar.

Activating the Jotnar core had not only allowed the Collector to glimpse the memories of its prior owner, but also establish a connection with the area the Jotnar had utilized to engage in their hibernation. They were transported elsewhere, but the Collector was confident by virtue of possessing their shard that it could still access them.

For now, however, the Collector began its experimentation.

The Collector stood in the midst of the Stormbear dungeon, behind a raging bonfire where meat had been roasted and passed around freely.

The Collector had granted the swarm one hour and thirty minutes to make merry at their reunion and to speak of their experiences and new appearances, particularly in regards to being brought from death via the Breath of Life.

This was theoretically a waste of time, and the Collector itself did not engage in any of it for it saw no true purpose, but it did give orders for the elder to build up an image of the Collector as one that could transcend death, thus building up more reverence and more loyalty.

In addition, the elder and the elites also gave the rest of the swarm some notion of what to expect in the future when the Collector split the swarm.

In time, or already as it was with certain more fiercely loyal specimen, the swarm would come to value their physical injuries less and be willing to be used more expendably by the Collector.

But now, the time of nourishment and rest was over.

The Collector looked in front of it where all its elites knelt.

Goromir. Kandak. Thokk. And finally, the newly evolved Thrag.

Thrag had, as the Collector theorized, become the new boss of the Stormbear dungeon, and the influx of magical energy had allowed it, coupled with the Collector's Higher Calling, to ascend into an elite.

The rest of the goblin swarm stood around and behind the fire in quiet, ready for their Sovnar's words.

The Collector spoke, its voice radiating outwards in a cool, calm, measured elegance underlined with a faint hint of a crackling rumble caused from the draconid's vocal chords.

"The elder has made this known among you already. This swarm shall be split. Yet, I will delve into further detail," said the Collector. "In two shall this swarm be divided. One force remaining here utilizing this dungeon as a central base,

One force shall follow me as I cross the Rift."

A general murmur rose among the goblins that had remained behind in the dungeon, for they all knew the reputation of the Rift as immeasurably dangerous. They worried for the Collector's safety and the future of the swarm.

"Do you doubt the might of the Sovnar?" said Kandak, his voice rising as he heard the whispers with a twitch of his pointed ear. "He goes now with purpose. Over the Rift. To conquer it. To make it ours. Do not question."

"Small dungeons alone are not my goal," stated the Collector. "This territory, I understand has been a source of great pride for you. Yet, it is nothing in the scope of the Great Purpose which has been vested within me.

For in the wake of the Great Purpose, this swarm shall play a role in not only conquering dungeons, but the very gods themselves.

To challenge this world, however, I require power, and power, I shall find across the Rift. When I return, precious little will challenge us."

"Hear the Sovnar's words, brothers and sisters, all you who were once simpler and could not see beyond the next meal," said the elder as he tapped his waking stick, now more of a staff, into the stone floor. "We are on the eve of a greatness.

It is not the Old Age, as I have thought, but a truly New Age for our people. Those of you that have listened to me thought my tales of a goblin kingdom and greatness as fanciful, but can you doubt them now that you witness how far we have come with the Sovnar behind us?"

The goblin swarm looked among each other, and the Collector could find no dissent, only agreement.

"That is what I thought," said the elder. He was still bald, but now the Breath of Life had granted him a thick beard of icy white that drooped down to his chest. "The Sovnar goes now to find the might to challenge the gods and bring the greatness that was once ours back to us.

Those of you that come to aid him, fight for him with your lives, for as I and many others here are living proof that the Sovnar holds reign over death itself.

Those of you that stay here, grant your prayers to the Sovnar."

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The Collector continued, delineating its plans. Its ashen white figure stood tall, even with the slight hunch from its oversized back muscles. Its large dorsal fin jutted out from its back with arcs of faint electrical humming buzzing around it.

The mandibles on the sides of its helmet-like carapace maw clicked together while its four red, slit-like eyes flashed.

"The swarm that stays here shall be a conquering force led under the supervision of the specimen known as 'Thrag'. Said specimen has evolved from champion to elite and possesses enough natural potential to become a secondary carrier unit," said the Collector.

"Conquer? We fight the humans now?" came a wondering question from the swarm.

"No," said the Collector. "The conquering force is to not engage with any tinkering force unless an explicit order has been granted by me. When engaging a tinkering force, escape should be of the highest priority.

The time to conquer the tinkerers will come later, when I have returned from beyond the Rift with the necessary power to do so.

What the conquering force below the Rift shall focus its martial efforts on will primarily be dungeons. It will begin to clear as many dungeons as possible while minimizing losses. Any severe wounds, I may heal remotely, but true resurrection requires my immediate presence.

Thus, engage in moderate caution, but do not unnecessarily fear bodily harm. Should the newly appointed carrier unit deem so, it will send a mental distress signal to me, and I will respond with immediate healing.

Focus on clearing the dungeons closest farthest from tinkering capability and work yourselves inwards, though not so close as to draw immediate attention."

Thrag's kneeling figure before the Collector spoke out.

"Sovnar," said Thrag, having been educated on proper titling by Kandak and Goromir. "How will we know where to strike? For far too long, our people have avoided any dungeons. Never cared for them."

The Collector signaled its mental intent to the elder, and the elder nodded and came forwards.

"I will guide you," said the elder. He smiled faintly. "And with my magic restored, even aid you in battle. It has been long since I have whetted my magic in blood."

"I am eager to see your might also, elder," said Thrag. "Even when we were unevolved, I had always thought you highly with your tales and knowledge. It is comforting you will be by my side to lead our people here."

"Hoh hoh," said the elder, nodding at the recognition. "It is heartening to know that there was such respect for me even when I was frail and weak."

The Collector watched this interaction and felt satisfactory that now that the goblin swarm was more intelligent, it possessed far more recognition and deference to the elder, likely having understood to greater degree the extent to which the elder had guided the tribe from harm with his knowledge of wind currents, the patterns of the Great Storm, the passage of Shadows, and so on.

Previously, the swarm had only recognized strength and treated the fragile elder as more of a convenience than someone to be recognized.

The Collector would have preferred also to leave one of the twin elites behind to train this portion of the swarm, but the twin elites were deferent to tradition, and tradition as members of a 'First Hand' made it such that they would never leave the Collector's side, acting as its personal guard.

A kingsguard equivalent, as the elites had put it.

The Collector spoke again. "The elder will guide you, and Thrag will lead you in combat. You shall defeat and conquer the dungeons, and in each of them, assign a worthy unevolved one among you to stay within it and take in its energies, ascending to elitehood.

As you reach elitehood, your connection to me will grow stronger, and through the trace amounts of warp energies inherent in dungeons, your connection will be further amplified such that you may communicate directly with me.

In this way, many of you shall become leaders of your own territory."

The Collector looked at Thrag. "This shall necessitate that you abandon this post as this dungeon's 'boss' and grant it to another in this swarm, for you shall lead, not remain stationary."

"I understand. And all the better for me," said Thrag. "I far prefer fighting and moving than sitting around." He paused for a moment. "A question, Sovnar."

"Proceed."

"I do not know how many dungeons there are, but will our numbers not eventually grow thin? When enough of us must remain in these dungeons," said Thrag.

"That is certainly so. Yet, accounted for," replied the Collector. "The secondary purpose of the conquering force is to conquer further additional goblins. There are more among your species here, that is known to me. They are gathered under different banners and social groups known as 'tribes.'

This too, is one of the reasons the elder shall remain. He will lead you to these tribes and usher them into the fold of this swarm."

"They…they may not appreciate the rule," said Thrag. "Their minds have not been opened to you, Sovnar."

"Another predicament that I have accounted for." The Collector raised an open palm towards Thrag's kneeling figure. "Come forwards. Your ascension into a carrier unit shall remedy this concern."

"It is an honor," said Thrag as he came forwards with his fist over his heart in reverent salute. Another form of etiquette taught by Goromir.

"Bare your heart to me," said the Collector. "For I require access to your cardiovascular system and spirit root circulation."

Thrag bared his chest, and the Collector slammed a clawed hand into it, easily cleaving through the flesh until its fingers reached the heart and gently held it. It surged magical energy colored red into its hand and enveloped the heart, initiating another sequence of Higher Calling.

Thrag froze up, his red eyes growing dim as blood began to trickle out from his mouth.

The Collector had researched the nature of Higher Calling and made modifications to it. It could not enhance elites into a further evolutionary form for it seemed that elites could not ascend to lords. Lords and elites were of entirely separate bloodlines that had surprisingly little overlap, which explained further why it seemed that the lords were so physically inferior to the elites.

The Collector initiated Higher Calling on the elite specimen before it to make its biological form more malleable in a way not dissimilar to how the Collector could reduce down into purely malleable biological ooze in its cocoon.

Magical energy began to swirl around the specimen 'Thrag's' body. Mana colored red, green, and blue that formed a triple helix of threads that slowly built up and encased the specimen in a cocoon of fluxing energy.

This way, the Collector could grow forth a larger tendril on the elite's head and also enhance it even further, allowing the elite to draw from the Collector's own Higher Calling voice and impart suggestion to the goblins it encountered, though at a lower level than the Collector.

Still likely enough to rally simple minded goblins to the Collector's cause.

In addition, the Collector could now do this –

Three pliomatter tendrils of pure, raw red muscle emerged from plates of carapace on the Collector's back and curved around to point at the elite specimen. Their ends rippled as the muscle condensed down into tapered, sharp points, and then they dug into the mana cocoon, going further and stabbing into parts of the elite's body.

The moment the Collector had obtained its adaptation to create its Cluster Drones, it had theorized that with Higher Calling, it could simply create these drones as parts of goblins.

Cluster drones by themselves were extremely unimpressive specimen. They were small, flying balls of biomass and genetic material that were used primarily for utility, ejecting a projectile here or emitting a sensory field there depending on what genetic material they were invested with.

However, with Higher Calling making the genetic structure of goblins malleable, the Collector calculated that it could simply make the goblins, especially the elites with their already sturdy bodies, as drones, grafting genetic samples it no longer needed into them.

One of the tendrils glowed red as it pumped in the genetic code for the Flametongue Salamander.

Another tendril glowed a pale blue as it transferred the code of the Shockstripe Eel.

The max number of genetic samples any cluster drone could possess was two, and that limit did not stop here. Overloading this specimen with foreign samples was liable to cause an irregular mutation. In addition, the genetic samples could only come from those the Collector were not utilizing right now.

In essence, it was as if the samples it possessed comprised a pool, and any unit taking form that pool would have to return it for it to be usable again.

The Collector chose these samples with purpose. Without the Collector warding away the Shadows with its Blessing, the conquering swarm would be left to deal with the Shadows. Thus, the Flametongue Salamander genes to grant permanent light and further reverence among other goblin tribes encountering the elite.

The Shockstripe Eel was to grant the elite aquatic capabilities and more combat power.

With both of these samples incorporated and soon, Breath of Life to enhance both the elite and the conquering force's stats, it was likely that no ordinary creature nor straying tinkering force would ever stand a chance against the conquering force.

Of course, the conquering force was not primarily supposed to be a militaristic one. That was what the Collector presented their role as to them, for it sensed that the goblins were far more positively predisposed to being labeled as 'conquerers'.

In practicality, they were more surveillance units to track tinkering movements in below the Rift so that the Collector knew what to expect when it came back down.

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The Collector finished transferring the genetic codes and then withdrew its tendrils. They hovered around the Collector, awaiting an additional subject, for the Collector could create three drones.

Thrag's cocoon fully sealed, the triple colors of the mana swirling around him crystallizing and sealing his shadowy, barely visible figure within. It would take an hour for the specimen to build into his new form.

"I grant power now to a select few," said the Collector. "Ascendant power that shifts the form much as I am capable of. I possess the capability to ascend two more specimen."

The Collector chose.

"The specimens known as 'Goromir' and 'Kandak' shall come forth," said the Collector.

"Why!?" said Thokk as he broke from his kneeling stance and rose up in surprise. "Why not me?"

"You possess immense potential that has not yet been fully realized," said the Collector. It had fully analyzed the battle between the carrier unit 'Thokk' and the new elite 'Goromir' and come to the realization that the carrier unit possessed an exceptional amount of inherent potential.

Potential as that being defined by both capacity to grow in martial prowess and inherent biological capacity to take in more evolutions. All living specimen it seemed possessed a set amount of strength to which they were capable of rising towards, with this limit set upon birth by genetics which also determined magical capability.

However, the capacity to evolve into a different specimen was a different type of potential all together. It required the flesh to be particularly malleable to change by modifications such as Higher Calling, and among all the goblins, the carrier unit 'Thokk' possessed a form that was most receptive to change.

The carrier unit alone among the goblins had been able to truly ascend into elitehood with a simple push from Higher Calling. The specimen known as 'Thrag' that would now lead the split conquering force required becoming the boss of a dungeon, a status that greatly stimulated evolutionary growth, to sustain such an ascension.

This potential manifested elsewhere as well. As evidenced by the carrier unit being an exceptionally quick learner in combat. His knowledge was multiple degrees below that possessed by the twin elite units, but his potential to surpass them was incredibly high.

"Because you possess this potential, you shall remain with your current form," said the Collector. "For once I graft foreign genetic codes into a specimen, their capacity to shift their forms becomes increasingly difficult, their biological capacity to hold genetic 'data' becoming increasingly overloaded.

Wasting your genetic data capacity on simple samples that I hold within me now will be a waste. Until you have tempered your body to its true limits and until I have devoured sufficiently exceptional samples to share, you will remain as you are."

"But-but I will be weak," said Thokk. "I lost to Goromir because I am not strong enough." He looked down at his pale hands. "I am just a goblin. If I can become something more, I can be stronger."

"'Just' a goblin?" Goromir came behind Thokk and slapped his back in a friendly, rousing gesture. "Do not disrespect the blood of Gob like that! Come on, young one, the Sovnar has recognized your potential, and I too respect it.

We will journey together, you, my brother, and I, and we shall teach you all there is to the martial prowess of the Gob elite.

Learn and devote yourself to the way of the flesh, and you shall be strong."

"You sure? I can be strong?" Thokk looked expectantly up to Goromir, and Goromir nodded with a smile that raised his tusk of ice up.

"Of course. But do not expect our training to be easy. Kandak, especially, holds little kindness in his heart," said Goromir.

"You slander me, brother," said Kandak. "I was trained with pain. Thus, with pain do I train others. It is simply the best way."

Goromir gestured back at Kandak with a thumb. "See what I mean? And besides, young one, the Sovnar has made his will known. You will not oppose it, will you?"

"No." Goromir nodded resolutely.

"Oppose my will when you deem it fit to do so," said the Collector, and the goblins turned to him in surprise. "I do not possess a sufficiently developed sense of ego-based pride to believe my commands and information to be absolute.

One of the primary purposes of allowing a swarm such as this to operate independently, besides eliminating the burden of mana cost, is that as drones invested with independent function, you may possess or gain knowledge that may contradict my commands.

In such times, it is imperative that you transfer such knowledge to me such that I may adjust my calculations and plans accordingly."

"Your generous will is known, Sovnar," said Goromir as he put his fist over his heart.

"Agreeable," said the Collector. "Now approach me, the twin elites known as 'Goromir' and 'Kandak'."

The twin elites came forwards and knelt before the Collector.

The Collector assessed the individual capabilities of either goblin, taking note of their builds and personalities as they knelt side by side before it.

Goromir was built lean and of moderate height for an elite, standing a full head shorter than the carrier unit known as 'Thokk' who possessed great size, almost reaching to the Collector's own three meter height.

This granted Goromir a far more lithe and agile build, and he expressed it greatly in his showcasing of the martial art 'Gobeira'. Speed and striking – these were the elite's specialties. If the elite had wanted, during his duel with the carrier unit, he could have used the blade-like ice crystal formations jutting from his elbows and knees for even more lethal strikes, but had held back doing so.

His twin brother Kandak, on the other hand, was as bulky as the carrier unit Thokk.

Kandak's body was riddled with discolored flesh shaped by scars, and these now manifested almost like stripes of grey upon his snow-white body, lining the curvature of his rippling muscles. In contrast, Goromir possessed far fewer longstanding battle wounds.

Indicated that Kandak preferred a far more direct mode of combat that involved taking greater damage. Likely that the martial art known as 'Gobeira' had some variation that suited a build like Kandak's better.

The Collector selected the genetic samples it would transfer.

It stepped forward first to Goromir, and in preparation, the elite bared his chest, uncovering his hand from his heart.

"I will make use of this new form you bless me with," said Goromir. "Truly, O Sovnar, you are the chosen of Gob, capable of blessing and shifting our flesh like this so."

The Collector clicked its mandibles as it slammed its hand into Goromir's chest, injecting Higher Calling energy into the elite's heart. In hearing of the history of the goblins from the elites, it knew also that the 'Sovnar', or one who possessed a shard once held by the titan Gob, possessed a boosted Higher Calling that could alter goblin flesh, not only ascending them, but changing their physical structures to make them more adapted for different biomes.

One of the reasons the twin elites recognized the Collector to such high degree was that it seemed to possess this type of Higher Calling, though the elites confused the Collector's innate evolutionary capabilities with it.

Regardless, the inference was that the proper shard of Gob might allow for the Collector's Higher Calling to vastly be enhanced, though this was a consideration for later.

For now, the Collector stepped back and watched as a cocoon of blue, green, and red swirled around Goromir, encasing him in a crystalline structure of triple lights.

The Collector stabbed its three tendrils into the crystal and pierced them into Goromir's body, into his head, heart, and stomach. It began transferring genetic sample codes.

For Goromir, the Collector shifted the samples for the Windcutter Wildcat and Lurker.

The Windcutter Wildcat was an exceptionally agile feline specimen that possessed claws and blades that could generate slashing winds, and they could also swirl winds around them or gather natural wind currents to rapidly accelerate their movements.

The Lurker would grant Goromir another dimension of movement, allowing for subterranean ambushes and quick assassinations of which Goromir was familiar with.

Goromir had spoken some of his past. He was not only a frontline fighter but also a reconnaissance unit, observing others from stealth and knowing how to utilize weapons to quickly slash in and out, killing without being seen.

He had even boasted of slitting the throat of a Godblood, a specimen possessed with blood from the entities known as 'gods', though whether this was simply fabrication or a confirmation that divine blood alone did not necessitate great strength was uncertain.

Overall, with the genetic codes of these two samples, the Collector estimated Goromir's direct combat capability to rise by 80% with its utility rising even further.

The Collector withdrew its tendrils and bid Kandak forwards.

"I take your blessing, Sovnar," said Kandak, his voice more gruff and his words fewer than his brother.

The Collector cut its hand into Kandak's chest and infused Higher Calling into his heart as well. When the mana cocoon formed around Kandak, the Collector injected its tendrils into the elite and chose the appropriate samples.

The Collector would grant Kandak the Grizzled Stormbear and Assassin Bugbrute samples. Both of these specimens were extremely durable, large, and powerful creatures that relied upon their natural bulk, armoring, and sheer physical strength to beat down their prey.

Kandak was also less prone to talk and crueler than Goromir, and would utilize the Bugbrute's venom and corpse armor more effectively as well.

Thus, Kandak would be significantly more combat capable than Goromir in a direct confrontation, but would lack in utility.

However, considering Kandak's battle scars and his history as one who charged into battlefields with reckless abandon, ignoring any pain and pushing forwards, the Collector found it apt to appropriate the elite into a role he was familiar with.

In any altercation, the Collector would utilize Kandak as a unit to soak damage and attention.

This would be the two elites that would accompany the Collector as its current personal guard. With these samples added to them, they were significantly more powerful than the four-star adventurer.

The Collector's own personal 'Kingsguard' as the elites would have put it.

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The Collector waited for an hour until the three goblin elites would fully emerge from their cocoons. All through this time, the rest of the goblin swarm were nearly quiet, looking at the most powerful among them receiving even more power, their very flesh being altered.

They looked with sheer reverence, and to a degree, the Collector perceived this as instinctual. There was something about the changing of flesh, of its modification into something higher, more evolved, that the goblins inherently respected and valued.

Likely, the Collector surmised, it was because of their origins.

Descended from the titan known as Gob. Neither of the twin elites knew the titan personally for by the time they walked this planet, Gob had been killed for five hundred years already. However, they knew much of what the entity should have been like according to religious practices and stored knowledge.

Gob was a 'god' of flesh. A pillar of towering flesh with a crown of a dozen faces. It interacted with the world through a countless host of tendrils, and it seemed to strike against its enemies with powerful physical blows, shapeshifting of the flesh into various forms and capabilities, and the modification of enemy flesh to cause accelerated expiration.

Extremely interesting.

It would seem that this entity 'Gob' was in possession of, or at the very least approximated the primordial ooze that the Collector returned to when it entered its evolutionary cocoon. Gob could freely change its form and that of others, hence why it was known as a god of flesh among the goblins.

A specimen of note worth.

In the age of the twin elites, they possessed remnant pieces of Gob's preserved flesh, utilizing it to empower certain warriors or, in their final moments, seal themselves off. However, it was unlikely that any preserved flesh remained or, if it did, it was securely guarded under tinkering hands.

Once the Collector began to face the tinkerers directly, ravaging their cities and ships and strongholds, it would seek out the flesh of 'Gob', for it deemed that such a specimen was highly compatible with its own form.

For now, the Collector watched as the trio of mana cocoons began to crack, the ground shaking as they oscillated. The shadowy figures of the elites within began to shudder and move.

"Still wish I could have been like them," said Thokk from the Collector's side. "They grow stronger. They were already stronger than me, and now, I feel weak. I am going to follow you, Sovnar, to the beyond above the Rift, but how can I help you when I am like this?"

"Learn and adapt," said the Collector. "There is no point wasting mental energies on what has happened. There is only to calculate and prepare for that which will happen."

"I understand," said Thokk.

"Do not sulk, Thokk," said the goblin elder. "You alone among our tribe could ascend into elitehood. You were a child of prodigy. None like you had ever been born to the tribe in over half a century. Should the Sovnar not have brought his reign upon us, there is no doubt you would have grown marvelously and led our tribe to incredible heights."

"No," said Thokk. "I understand better now. How this world works. If the Sovnar had not come, I would have grown strong, maybe even turned into how I am now, but then what? I would lead our tribe as the strongest, but what could we have done?

We would raid the human camps. Two or three of them. Then the humans would come and kill us all. That is it. We would not do anything more."

Thokk looked to the Collector. "But with the Sovnar, now we can do so much more. The whole world is ours to challenge. The gods ours to fight and beat. But I must become strong enough to be worthy of a great goal like that."

Thokk made a tight fist and held it to his chest in determination. "And I will."

"Your words are growing more eloquent by the moment," said the elder. "You are learning. Learning quick. Frighteningly so."

The Collector clicked its mandibles, drawing attention to the cocoons breaking now, but also to agree with the elder. The carrier unit 'Thokk' possessed not just immense biological capacity to evolve, but also neural processing that evolved at a rapid rate, allowing him to learn and understand at a degree several times quicker than any of his brethren.

Still primitive and slow compared to the Collector, but there was no point comparing a native born specimen here with the Collector.

The dungeon rumbled as the three cocoons shattered in sync with each other. Shards of solidified mana crystals that glowed blue, red, and green scattered across the stony floor, dissolving quickly into pure light now that their purpose had been fulfilled.

Three reborn elites emerged, their gazes facing downward and their breathing shallow as they adjusted to their new bodies.

The Collector clicked its mandibles. The evolution had exceeded its expectations.

Thragg lit up in flames crackling with electricity, lighting up the dungeon cave. His body more muscled than before, enhanced by additional biomass.

A bright yellow stripe ran down the top of his forehead, following the curvature of his spine and leading down into a thick white tail of pure, muscled flesh lined with four sets of light yellow, almost crystalline fins that could fan out and spread electrical charge.

Gills lined the sides of Thragg's neck, fluttering as he took in breaths. A shiny sheen covered his body from the special oils of the Flametongue Salamander that could sustain flames while negating any harmful heat from reaching underneath the lipid layer to the specimen.

The frill-like red tendrils of the salamander which could generate sparks and flame gathered around Thragg's back in the form of a flaming cape in much the same way it had been with the Collector.

More crystalline fines lined his forearms and back, crackling with bolts of electrical charge that coursed through the aura of flame he emitted.

Goromir retained his physical dimensions. Sightly over two meters tall with a lean, agile build. However, thin carapace covered his body now, clinging in a form-fitting, flexible weave of snowy white.

The carapace formed a retractable helmet around Goromir's head, granting him the appearance of an armored tinkerer, and the Collector hypothesized this was because Goromir's own preferences had influenced the evolution.

Long, sickle-like claws protruded from Goromir's hands and feet, and thin wisps of wind flickered around them. His deep blue eyes now possessed slit, feline pupils. Above those eyes were two pairs of pure black insectoid ocular systems.

Twin antennae twitched from his carapace helmet, no doubt linked to his nervous system when the helmet was on.

Thin hairs lined the seams of his carapace, granting him the wind-sensitive and air current harnessing capabilities of the Windcutter Wildcat.

A series of six spines protruded from his back, bobbing in and out between seams in the carapace as they adjusted to a new body. Those spines could be retracted and freely extended at a moment's notice, and they were spiraled in structure, perfect for drilling through rock.

Goromir's body shook intensely, vibrating at unnaturally high speeds, and the Collector noted this was his muscles adjusting to the Lurker's capability to oscillate its muscles at exceptionally high speeds meant specifically for parting and burrowing into dirt.

Kandak was much like his brother, choosing to take upon an armored form, but he embodied the concept of an armored unit far better than his twin.

His already prodigious size had bulked up even more with the Stormbear's musculature and the Bugbrute's sheer size, making him stand even taller than the collector at three and a half meters.

Kandak was incredibly wide and stout, and his dense muscles were also padded under an insulating, shock-absorbing layer of fat.

The Assassin Bugbrute's spiked carapace covered Kandak's body in a thick suit of plate, and unlike the form fitting weave of carapace around his brother, Kandak's carapace protruded outwards, creating maximal protective power in exchange for some flexibility of movement.

A helmet of carapace gathered around Kandak's head also, and in his case, his helmet was lined on either side with an enormous set of crushing pincer mandibles. Twin antennae protruded from the helm's top, twitching, sensitive for any changes in the air.

Three pairs of eyes. One blue, the rest black and insectoid.

Between the seams of Kandak's armor were thick tufts of white fur that flickered around him, forming into wavy clumps that channeled electricity. Underneath the elite's carapace plating was in addition the Stormbear's durable fur layer and below that, dense muscles and fat.

An enemy would have to pierce through all three layers of defense to harm Kandak.

Kandak's hands possessed claws now, but notably, one of his arms was thicker than the others, the carapace at the forearm forming into a bulb that unsheathed the stinger of the Assassin Bugbrute.

Additionally, the Collector perceived that with both Kandak and Goromir, they could withdraw their carapace armor to bare flesh and fur bodies, likely to preserve the integrity of their original forms better as they had more attachment to them than the Collector which had no real positive inclinations to any one form.

Though the Collector did have certain minute preferences. Such as its mandibles. Yet, none so strong that it would shape its metamorphosis, potentially hampering efficiency, to retain a form it preferred.

Regardless, the Collector was pleased with this evolutionary outcome. The three elites had taken to foreign genetic samples remarkably well, even exceeding the Collector's calculations by 22%.

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The three elites had taken to foreign genetic samples remarkably well, even exceeding the Collector's calculations by a nigh inconceivable 40%.

The Collector could not calculate the strength boost the elites would receive adequately because it was still experimenting with Higher Calling, and this was the first time it had truly melded together its own adaptations with magic.

Partly, the Collector had not expected too much due to how Cluster Drones functioned originally.

Cluster drones, as their name suggested, were meant to be used in clusters. They were individually extremely weak relative to the Collector, making up for such weakness with numbers.

In the Collector's original form, at the height of its powers, it could field ten thousand cluster drones and expend biomass to continuously produce them.

They would fly from gaps in the Collector's carapace and flesh as an immense swarm, washing over smaller warships when their shielding was down, finding cracks in their armor, and wreaking havoc.

Infestor-strain Collectors produced the strongest cluster drones and almost solely relied on them for combative capability, fielding hundreds of thousands of drones, but the Collector, as a Warrior-strain, could not create drones in the same number or strength, and thus used them instead to cull the weak.

The Collector's drones fanned out and slaughtered tiny tinkerers in their powersuits or plasmacoil tanks or any starship below the Mammoth class.

This left the Collector to deal with powerful individual threats as it was adapted to, to revel in the battle that was worthy for it.

But now, combined with Higher Calling and incorporated into stronger base specimen, the cluster drones were no longer simply meant to fan out the weak. They were truly potent units that could reliably engage in combat with the Collector.

Or, as the twin elites had stated, to protect the Collector with their lives.

"Truly, this is the flesh blessing of Gob," said the elder as he raised a trembling hand towards the three reborn elites, assessing their magical energy. His eyes widened. "Their mana levels are extraordinary. Two, no, three times higher than before."

"To be precise, their total mana levels have increased by a magnitude of 2.66 times," said the Collector. "However, they must adjust to their newfound capacity and abilities. Judging from the mental processing I have observed from each specimen, I calculate that the one known as 'Thragg' will take fourteen days to acclimate.

The one known as 'Kandak' will take five days. As would his twin specimen 'Goromir'."

"Your judgement is keen and infallible as always, Sovnar," said the elder.

"Not infallible," corrected the Collector. "My processing systems possess a density of neurons and synaptic connections that render the simple systems of your brains nigh obsolete, but there is never a certain calculation.

Probability cannot be absolute. Discrepancies in my calculations rise even further when I do not lack necessary knowledge.

As I have said before, this swarm operates with independence such that in times of need, they make make their own judgements.

Do not be fearful of correcting any calculations I craft as well, for as part of my swarm, I consider your contributions as extensions of my own calculative ability."

"Understood, great Sovnar," said the elder. "That you regard us so highly is heartening to hear."

The Collector clicked its mandibles and then clenched its fists together, swirling out magical energy that funneled into its new drones. The magical energy came out in three separate threads of blue that latched on to the elites' hearts, granting them magical energy with which to stabilize with.

The blue colored mana of Unity. This, the Collector had adapted and figured out how to utilize when it tapped into the Jotnar core, for its affinity was that of Unity.

Now there were but two mana affinities for the Collector to observe and utilize properly.

That being Root and Void.

The Collector could already understand how to utilize Root based mana, for it was in essence affinity to concentrate mana in single points at high densities. Highly complementary with techniques such as [Guard, though the Collector would have to see more techniques in action in order to fully begin its own experimentations with it.

Void, however, was still a mystery, and there were none around the Collector that knew of what it could accomplish. Even the female daemon specimen had thought it an aberration of low probability.

The three evolved elites in front of the Collector groaned in unison as they gained greater control of themselves, their consciousnesses finally getting used to their new bodies. They tentatively moved their limbs, looking at themselves with palpable surprise.

Then, Goromir smiled, his helmet of carapace sheathing back to reveal his face fully.

"What strength!" He clenched his fist and surged out his magical energy, green tides of power rippling around him in an intensity that he had never exhibited before. "With this might, I would never have fallen in the Shattering."

"Agreed, brother," said Kandak as he too loosed magical energy, though his was painted red.

Together, they made the dungeon tremble, shuddering at the waves of magical energy they unleashed.

"Enough boasting, you two," said Thragg. He, despite his physical prowess and the tendency for goblin kind to fixate on it, was far more reflective than the rest. Introspective. "It is only due to the Sovar we have this power, and it is through the purpose he gives us that we use it."

"You are right, young one," said Goromir. "To think a goblin of this new age could be so well spoken."

"We are all the same people still," said Thragg. "Do not belittle us for we share the same threads of blood."

"I apologize," nodded Goromir. "Old habits. When I walked across the realms, the kingdom of Gob culled all imperfect bloodlines, so it is easy for me to see others of Gob in terms of being lesser. But all of you are my brothers and sisters in not only life, but also death, united by the Sovnar."

"United, but soon to part ways," said Thragg. "Sovnar, from how you order us to avoid the humans, I believe you too wish to evade them. It cannot be that you desire to remain long here. Do you wish to move now?"

"If the three of you are adapted to your new forms enough and the swarm is prepared," said the Collector.

"A moment, Sovnar," said Goromir.

"Speak," replied the Collector.

"There is still much meat left to eat, and the goblins that remained here still do not know us too well," said Goromir. "Let us all sit in peace and quiet, to eat and make merry and come to know the other, for moments like these will become all too rare."

Goromir smiled to the rest of the goblins that had died and risen with him. "And we will be the first among all bloodlines of Gob to ever celebrate not simply our lives, but our deaths as well. I cannot pass up a chance like that."

"You desire to create a moment of rest among the swarm so that they may cultivate greater cohesion among you through extended social interaction." The Collector analyzed this suggestion. It knew by now that the goblins were a highly social species, becoming more and more interactive the more they evolved.

The Collector itself had little conception of this social interaction, but it knew that it was useful in creating a stronger sense of collective unity among the swarm, especially as it was comprised of individuals and not mindless drones.

And, as the Collector had noted before, it was here to take suggestions for calculations it could not compute properly. The realm of social interaction being one of them. This, the Collector trusted the elite specimen on.

"Agreeable, then," said the Collector. "Ensure that this period of socialization does not last more than six hours, however."

"Many thanks, O Sovnar," said Goromir with a deep bow, his fist over his heart.

Then, Goromir spun around and raised his fists in the air. He went into the middle of the swarm, and with a shout, said, "Come on then! The Sovnar grants us time to make merry. And we shall make merry in the way of our peoples!

All you men of this tribe, those that dare, at least, come forwards and fight me! Women, too, for might is blind."

Goromir's words roused the swarm, and they began to circle around the elite, passing around chunks of meat among themselves to watch as competitors against Goromir came up to him to spar, testing out their own newfound physical abilities with the Breath of Life.

When Goromir triumphed over a champion, the swarm reacted, talking among themselves, wondering how the champion could have done better or marveling at Goromir's moves or, if one of the goblins had stayed behind in the dungeon, talking to exchange experiences on what had occurred.

The Collector remained aloof, recharging its mana and producing purifying light blades to arm the goblins with, but it observed nonetheless, watching as the emotions coursed around the swarm and analyzing how they worked.

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The Collector observed the goblins make merry. They wrestled with each other and shared food with each other. They remarked at each other's strengths and praised each other. They laughed together and talked together.

Some of them grew angry at each other over a friendly wrestling loss, but no anger was allowed to remain for long as the elites broke things up and eased tensions.

The elites showcased their newfound biological powers, emitting electricity or fire or burrowing into the ground in a novel display that entertained the goblins.

The elder spoke among some of the goblins that were more curious and scholarly minded, telling them tales it knew and tales of the future, of what they were to do for the Collector.

As time went on and wrestling energy dwindled, the goblins settled into largely speaking with each other. They came to know each other on far more complicated terms than what their simple minded brutishness had been capable of prior to their many evolutions.

They came to respect each other, appreciate each other, and understand each other, and bonds began to form. Some goblins became more attached to others due to compatible personality traits. Some less attached to others for the opposite reasons.

Yet all still treated each other with a certain degree of respect for they were reminded of being bound to the Sovnar and to a unified purpose.

They spoke about the purpose. Many of them felt great excitement at the idea of becoming warrior conquerors, taking back land from tinkerers who had slain so many of them, of unifying the goblin tribes and ascending them.

Some wanted to know what the world was like outside the snow. They wanted to explore down to the south. They wanted to go to other realms.

Some contemplated the nature of the great darkness to come. The darkness the Collector had prophesied and stated they would stand against in their Great Purpose.

The Collector had told the Elder to cultivate among the swarm the idea that the great darkness was something that could be fought against for it knew that the goblins would take to the idea of a truly tangible threat the best.

Thus, many of the goblins wondered what kind of incredible monster was coming that not even the Collector could handle alone. Some of them shuddered in fear, and then they were comforted and roused by others.

Some of them resolved to get stronger, and their intentions were applauded and emboldened.

As more time passed and the meat of hunted creatures grew thin, filling the goblins' stomachs and making them more somnolent, they began to wish each other luck. They embraced each other, the goblins of the conquering force wishing the best for those that accompanied the Collector and vice versa.

The male goblins that had already pair bonded with some females spent their last hours with each other, engaged in verbally and physically voiced appreciation in the alcove above the base level of the dungeon where they were secluded.

Eventually, the goblins fell asleep, and the Collector counted that it had been long past the six hours it had initially granted them. It was almost twelve.

The Collector allowed this, however, for it wished to observe and analyze.

Emotions.

The Collector could understand emotions that others felt on an academic level, but it could not truly empathize with them for it had never felt certain emotions strongly.

It knew that emotions arose from certain external stimuli and, notably, that this stimuli was highly different depending on each individual.

That meant that for the Collector to truly began perceiving emotions on its own, it would have to figure out exactly what external stimuli activated its emotions the greatest. Battle hunger had been the trigger for many of the Collector's first emotional experiences, and it hypothesized it would continue to be significant in that regard.

But perhaps there was more.

The Collector was willing to experience emotions to greater degree. They did not seem entirely like defective side products of evolution that produced individuals.

Certainly, individuality and emotions that arose with it caused inefficiency. A hivemind would always respond quicker, better, and more efficiently to threats or mobilize for purposes than any collection of individuals.

However, it was in the value of life that the Collector now realized a massive difference arose.

In a hivemind, the value of a life did not matter, for it was simply a small part of a greater whole.

In an individual, however, no matter how lowly they were or how little their lives mattered in a greater scope, they would find that their lives were worth living and worth treasuring simply because of the emotions they could feel.

Unless highly defective, the Collector came to realize that every single individual valued their lives, regardless of how weak or strong they were. Regardless of whether they followed a great purpose or not.

Even the soldiers the Collector had slaughtered in the forest had desperately clung to their lives, and the Collector had thought at first this was simple primal instinct, and indeed that played a part, but now, it knew that it was also because they valued the potential of their lives to grant them more emotions.

With their lives, they could continue to pursue happiness. Satisfaction. Emotions that nourished them.

At first, the Collector had thought this a sign of extraordinary weakness among tinkerers. If even the lowliest among them clung to their lives, none would be willing to sacrifice their all for a purpose, let alone unify into one greater goal.

In the vast majority of cases, the Collector's thought process was affirmed. But in certain rare cases, the emotions and individuality, the valuing of the individual life, could allow individuals to break from the limitations they were born with and observe a strength of body or mind that a hivemind was unable to replicate.

This, the Collector perceived with the four-star adventurer exceeding his limitations to battle the Collector.

This, the Collector perceived even more with the goblin swarm that continued to develop and grow and seek to become more than what they were for the sake of the Collector not as hive drones, but as individuals.

The Collector noted the elder's words.

The Collector possessed precious few lived experiences, and that was true. The elder had further stated that in time, it would come to understand itself and its 'soul' as it gained more experiences.

At first, the Collector had not thought significantly of this, dismantling the logic behind it, but now it understood to greater degree, and it agreed.

The rate it was changing its mind and adapting to emotions and mana, the Collector knew that it was almost an inevitability for it to truly experience life as an individual, but at that point, the question arose: would the Collective accept the Collector?

No.

Even now, the Collective would likely reset the Collector or make it anew, believing it a defect.

The Collector still accepted this, however, for it fully believed in the Collective's Great Purpose and was willing to cast its life away for it.

But the goblin swarm. Would they not be assimilated and culled with the dawning of the Collective?

Yet, the swarm would contribute to the Collective in fulfilling the Great Purpose also.

But was that what the swarm truly wanted?

Irrelevant.

The Collector clicked its mandibles and focused its thoughts. Individual wants and needs came far below the greater need of the Great Purpose, for only with the Great Purpose did life at a fundamental level even matter, for without it, all life would end.

The Collector…would not feel right sacrificing the goblins as they were now to the Collective, but it would not truly hesitate either.

Its purpose was the same, even if in some aberrant occasions its thoughts strayed to the desire of continued battle.

But even now, it acted towards it.

The Collector stopped its contemplation and spent the rest of the time the goblins slumbered to think ahead to more practical calculations such as how it would approach its movements beyond the Rift.

When first daylight broke at dawn, the Collector sent out a mental signal among its swarm for them to arise and mobilize. The goblins awoke in groups, some of them faster than the other, more reactive, but within the span of ten minutes, the swarm was ready to mobilize.

The Collector split the swarm as was promised. There were thirty-eight goblins in total, and the Collector split the swarm.

The conquering force led by Thragg had fourteen champions, thus totaling to a host of fifteen. Among those fifteen many were females, for the goblin swarm did not desire for the women, bearers of offspring for the next generation, to face the unknown and harsher dangers of the Rift.

The females that accompanied the Collector's group were those that had pair bonded with males in the group, and they totaled six in number. The remaining seventeen male specimens comprising the Collector's force included the carrier unit Thokk and the twin elites Goromir and Kandak.

Militarily speaking, the Collector's force was vastly superior, and appropriately so because the threats beyond the Rift were that much greater.

In summary, the Collector's conquering force totaled fifteen, and the Collector's personal force totaled twenty-three.

The Collector stood at the mouth of the dungeon cave with its force behind of it, watching as the conquering force to remain behind kneel in the cave before the Collector, granting it reverence and praying for its success as it left.

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The Collector allowed the goblin swarm a brief moment of time to say their farewells, for it had been advised by the elder that such things would aid in strengthening the mental fortitude of them swarm overall.

Goromir and Kandak split off half of one of their tusks and left it behind with Thragg's conquering force. This, the twin elites stated, was what all those who were of the elite blood did when they had resolved themselves of potential death and went forth to war.

Thokk, observing this, scrambled to match the elites and did the same.

And Thragg, taking the three tusk shards, returned the gesture, stating that he and his swarm were not merely resting, that they too were going forth in the Collector's name to battle and make its name known.

With that, the final exchange was made, and the swarm split into two as the Collector had intended.

The conquering force under Thragg and his fourteen champions strong.

The Sovnar force around the Collector numbering twenty-three with Thokk, Goromir, and Kandak.

As time went on, the Collector would be able to keep surveillance on the conquering force. Every single time they captured a dungeon and created another boss, potentially another elite, they could utilize the dungeon as a limited warp vessel to boost their mental link to the Collector and communicate with it directly.

Militarily speaking, the swarm was at its absolute peak given the Collector's current capabilities. Every single goblin unit had been enhanced with the Breath of Life, and the Collector had tuned its Breath of Life regenerative settings such that it would provide minor amounts of sustained regeneration to every single unit even if they were far from the Collector.

Every single goblin unit was further armed with purifying lightblades that would make them efficient dungeon clearers or, in the case of the Sovnar force, aid greatly against the ancient beasts that lay beyond the Rift.

Judging by an initial assessment of the life forms in the biome known as 'Fjall', the Collector estimated that the conquering force ranked among the strongest provided they worked adequately together. They would have no difficulty subjugating the remaining goblin tribes and securing dungeons.

This way, the Collector could have a sizable network of surveillance all across this area known as 'Fjall' while it headed now to the north.

To beyond the Rift.

To the slumbering Jotnar.

To the draconid that had turned the Collector into a challenger.

The Collector flew from above as the Sovnar force underneath it sprinted. They were dramatically quicker than before, their each and every large steps sending them hurtling across the snow at a speed of three hundred kilometers an hour.

If they sprinted at full force speed, utilizing their mana to do so, they could reach twice that speed for short bursts of time. However, the Collector determined it would be more prudent for them to save their mana for later.

Geographically, the Collector knew that the Rift itself was a series of closely packed mountains separating Fjall from what was known as the 'Wailwaste'. Scaling the Rift by foot would be incredibly inefficient, so when they reached the base of the mountains, it would lift the goblins via mass Sapia.

It did not take long before the Collector and its swarm reached far enough north that the fall of Grain started to cloud visibility. However, the Collector with its immensely boosted Primal Density felt no ill effects from it, and the Breath of Life too had charged the swarm with primal energy linked to the Collector that let the Collector accurately grant its carrier unit mental commands who then spread them among the rest of the swarm.

A useful adaptation, for it was not long before the Collector encountered an anomaly.

A flock of enormous avian specimen flew towards the Collector. They were similar to conventional avian lifeforms the Collector had observed in the forest biome, but they were easily at the size of the grizzled stormbear.

White feathered with sharp, piercing yellow eyes and enormous black talons wreathed in frosty magical energy. Icy winds channeled around them in spiraling patterns as they flew with their wings compacted by their sides, boosting their aerodynamic acceleration.

They were maximizing their speed, but not against the Collector.

In fact, they completely avoided the Collector, swerving around it.

They were running from something.

The Collector sensed it. A dual gathering of magical energy signatures that the Collector was quite familiar with.

Two draconids rapidly approaching, cutting through the thick fall of Grain. Though judging by their trajectory, they were not intentionally targeting the Collector. Indicated that the draconids were traversing beneath the Rift for a reason.

The Collector understood from the Jotnar's memories that the Jotnar and draconids had been engaged in an intensive and lengthy war, and that the Jotnar had been beaten back, forced to seal themselves away.

But now with the Jotnar gone, what were the purpose of the draconids? They likely numbered to a sizable host, and each of their individuals was exceptionally strong compared to the average specimen of this world.

As beings also charged with primal energy, they were diametrically opposed to tinkerers.

Eventually, there would only be conflict between them.

Were they now scouting with an advance force for a potential war effort?

Or were they searching for the Collector?

Answers, the Collector would tear from their throats.

The Collector signaled for battle readiness among its swarm below and then flew upwards, its two wings of light flaring red as they accelerated the Collector upwards, its magical energy forming a blade that parted the Grainfall cleanly before it rapidly converged upon the two draconids.

The Collector sensed that the draconids stopped moments before the Collector reached them, evidently also sensing the Collector through the grain with their magically charged electromagnetic sense.

However, far too late.

The Collector operated not with sight, but purely with its senses, utilizing its sensitive hairs, magical perception, and electromagnetic sense to create a far more efficient locating system than that which the draconids relied upon.

It pinpointed the exact location of one of the draconids and slammed into its chest with a shoulder bash. The enormous impact of the blow sent out an explosive shockwave that blew back the slow falling Grain, temporarily revealing everything.

The Collector flew suspended in the air, hovering in front of the second draconid that opened its maw in surprise as its companion flew over a hundred meters backwards, spiraling in the air from the force driven into its stomach.

The Collector clicked its mandibles. It was thoroughly pleased with its newfound strength. Leagues beyond its past form. Now then, for this one-

The remaining draconid specimen bared its thick, icy blue claws and stretched out its dorsal fin. Glowing blue magical energy surged around the fin in electrical arcs as it opened its jaw wider, channeling a storm breath.

The Collector reacted in an instant, shooting forwards in a [Dash] that ended with it uppercutting the draconid's chin, snapping the creature's head upwards and causing its storm breath to bellow straight up, targeting nothing.

The stream of blue energy exploded high above, clearing the Grain even further.

Now this one, the Collector would use to test the goblin swarm.

The Collector immediately flew upwards so that it was slightly above the draconid and then slammed its two lower fists down onto the top of the draconid's skull. The twin impacts loosed a concussive shock, drawing out twin networks of tears in the finer denticle scale weave of the draconid's head before sending it hurtling straight downwards, over a hundred meters down like a comet right into the ground where the swarm would be ready for it.

That one, the Collector ordered the swarm to kill.

The other one, the one the Collector had sent away with its tackle, was the one it would spare for questioning. Red energy flared all around the Collector, and its twin red wings of pure energy flared outwards on its sides like angry red eyes, shooting the Collector forward.

A sonic boom left the Collector's tail as it approached the draconid still mid-flight, feeling from the blow.

Remarkably, the draconid could still react at the last moment, righting its violent surge backwards by expending magical energy to regain its balance in the air. The damage done to the draconid's chest from the Collector's first tackle was not too deep, creating cracks in the dark blue, plate-like scales, but not fully permeating.

This one was stronger than the other one, but not by much.

Not nearly as mighty as the white maned draconid specimen.

Regardless, strong enough that the draconid specimen put its muscular arms up in a form of guard, hunching its head down so that its thick, plated neck would defend its face. Magical energy raged out of the draconid in chaotic whirls of red, dramatically enriching its muscles and scales, making them several times more durable.

The Collector could not easily brute force a [Guard] like this, though the downside of using so much energy for [Guard] was that it limited mana to enhance other movements for counters or evasions.

Which made the draconid a stationary target.

The Collector aimed one of its right hands towards the draconid. The plates of white carapace around the forearms parted, revealing a fleshy, bulbuous green sac expanding rapidly into a grotesque, pulsating lump like an engorged tumor.

The draconid specimen did not react adequately in time, believing mistakenly the Collector was purely a melee brawler.

Before it could undo its [Guard] and evade, the Collector shot forth a torrent of superacid from its bilespitter.

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The Collector boosted its contractile muscle tissues supporting the glands in its bilespitter sac with concentrations of chaotic mana, thus increasing the muscular pressure unleashed and accelerating the acid delivery several times fold.

The main weakness of the Bilespitter was that compared to the Collector's Spine Spitters, the acid projectile was quite slow. However, with the assistance and incorporation of mana, this weakness could be subverted somewhat.

The acid shot forth in a line of bright green which splashed on the draconid's crossed arms. The draconid's magical energy, yellow in color it seemed to represent the mana affinity of Root, flared up, intensifying the [Guard] dramatically, mana particles infusing each and every muscle fiber until it was no longer the consistency of flesh but pure metallic ore.

To double down on a stationary defense was simply foolishness, however.

No metal in the known galaxy could ever hope to fend against the Collective's superacid. In terms of sheer offensive capability, the superacid was perhaps one of, if not the most fiercesome tool in the Collector's arsenal.

The green acid splashed across the draconid's muscular arms and immediately began eating away at them, the sound of scales and flesh melting away in bubbling sizzles filling the air. It did not matter if the draconid's arms possessed the most tensile durability out of any alloy on this planet.

The Superacid broke the draconid's arms down at the molecular level, and the acid was adaptive, constantly changing its structure to find a means to break whatever it struck down with the least path of resistance possible.

The result was that the draconid was left very quickly left without the upper halves of both of its arms, both of them having melted away into bright green goo. Scales, muscles, bone – all of it dissolved equally quickly.

Had the Collector possessed its sub-adaptations, the superacid would also have been self-replicating, expanding its reach the more organic matter it consumed until even a single drop could utterly disintegrate an entire human.

But for now, the damage was localized. At the very least, the acid was capable of halting any regeneration, completely numbing the cells it came into contact with.

The draconid looked down at its lack of arms, surged some magical energy into them, and saw that they did not regenerate. The draconid cocked its head once before it understood it could not heal and simply bared its jaws in battle readiness, its dorsal fin sticking out and charging up electrical energy.

This was not because the draconid was mindless, not recognizing the severity of its wounds. No, it was because it reveled in the fight, caring not of its lethal wounds so long as it could enjoy itself and fall while crashing against overwhelming might.

"Marvelous," said the Collector. "Your species knows the worth of battle."

'You are the one,' said the draconid.

The Collector felt the draconid's language through magnetic and electrical pulses emitting from the draconid's dorsal fin. From fin to fin, the signals were transferred, and the language, the Collector knew.

Not from the Collector's own knowledge, for it had not been able to extract memories from consumption for some time now, but because of the shard of light graced atop its head. It acted as a form of translator that allowed the Collector to connect with primally charged species.

Not that it was actually needed here.

The draconid tongue was akin to psionic communication, transferring pure mental intent via electromagnetic waves to the dorsal fin. This was a vocally unspoken language that made sense in context of the draconid species likely spending great amounts of time in aquatic biomes.

'The one the Exile has claimed,' said the draconid, its thin, beady black eyes peering at the Collector's shard in ever open stare due to a lack of eyelids.

'You are open to communication,' stated the Collector. 'I am here to extract information. Grant this to me and your death shall be merciful.'

The draconid growled. 'That is an insult. I will speak with you, Usurper, but you will never threaten me with a peaceful death lacking pain again.'

The Collector clicked its mandibles in understanding. The draconid species as a whole exhibited an immense battle drive and hunger that manifested in their culture. Likely, they were cultivated from birth to be fighters, beholding battle and all that came with it, things such as pain and injury, to not be things to be feared, but reveled in.

A wondrous mindset. A warrior-strain Collector utilizing the draconid specimen as a base would be quite compatible.

'Then it shall be so. I will grant you a worthy death, for I know well its value,' said the Collector. 'But tell me first.

What is it that your leader desires of me?'

'The Exile is among us most blessed and cursed,' said the draconid. 'Only he among us has been able to pass the Rite of the Fallen One and gain immeasurable power. The shard within his heart. He is blessed with might that makes him untouchable by death.

But only he among us is one accursed to never see a worthy end. The blessing that binds him grants that a peaceful death only shall he succumb to.

But you are the one. The Usurper. The End. This, the White Voice has promised.'

The Collector knew with the circumstantial evidence it had accrued that the nature of the entity known as the 'White Voice' was highly in question. There was the 'White Voice' imbued in the Collector. Then there was the 'White Voice' the Jotnar revered.

Then there was the 'White Voice' the draconids listened to, and the Jotnar believed the draconids beholding a false idol, with the 'White Voice' within the Collector also warning of false voices.

The Collector emitted its intent. 'This White Voice you speak of. Tell me of it. What manner of entity is it?'

The draconid opened its jaws wide for a moment, and then its body shuddered and convulsed. White light blazed out from its eyes, and then, a voice emanated from it. A physical voice that did not belong to it.

"I knew you would be able to gather the Shard," said the voice. "And I am certain you desire more. Answers from my children, you will not have further, but I will tell you this: if it is answers you desire, power you desire, battle you desire, then stay to your course.

Cross the Rift.

Come for the Exile.

Become the End."

With that, the draconid's body enveloped in blinding white light, accumulating a mass surge of magical energy that the Collector recognized as dangerous, forcing it to fly downwards. An explosion rocked from above as a surge of shot out light lit up through the Grain before fading away.

There would be no more traces of the draconid remaining. A pity that the specimen had suffered such an ignoble death, bereft of its own will and capability to choose a worthy end at the Collector's hands.

The Collector flew downwards to the location of its swarm, clicking its mandibles as it processed the sudden interaction. It only took a few seconds for the Collector to land heavily upon the snow, crashing up a surge of snow from all around it as its two pairs of red eyes gleamed red, eyeing the sight before it.

The goblin swarm had been victorious. The three elites Thokk, Goromir, and Kandak were circled over a draconid corpse, or rather, what was left of it. The physical integrity of the draconid specimen had been drastically compromised due to the purifying light blades the entire swarm now yielded.

The shards were highly effective against the draconid, and once its scales were shattered and its bare flesh exposed, the shards could easily impact enough damage to overcome its regeneration and explode it from within, reducing it to a puddle of white flesh, shattered scale shards, and miscellaneous chunks of viscera.

To be certain, the goblin swarm had not escaped unharmed. Far from it.

Kandak was three arms and possessed a gaping hole in his stomach, his one hand held against it to prevent his entrails from spilling out.

Goromir's back was hunched from a shattered vertebrae and he hobbled on one leg, his other one having been torn clean off. The Lurker spikes on his back were completely burnt, likely having faced the electrical wrath of the draconid's storm breath.

Surprisingly, Thokk was the least injured among them, having lost only but a single arm. Yet, the carrier unit seemed to be the most emotionally distraught, looking down and away, averting his gaze from the Collector.

The bleeding had stemmed from the wounds of all three elites due to the regenerative factor the Collector granted them via its Breath of Life.

Notably, the other goblins in the swarm were barely injured. The ones that were exhibited minor wounds mostly consisting of burns on their appendages or, in rare cases, black splotches on their chest from contact with a magically intensified electrical charge.

Likely, then, the Collector analyzed that Goromir, Kandak, and Thokk had defeated the draconid only among themselves, showcasing the vast difference in strength they possessed from before when not even this entire swarm could have hoped to defeat a draconid specimen.

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"Your battle capabilities are worthy of praise," stated the Collector to the elites. "To engage an enemy that prior to your evolution would have reigned dominant over your kind and to defeat it in convincing manner allows me to understand the significant combative improvement you have made."

The Collector raised a fist towards them and clenched it. Spiral patterns of blue mana started to gather around its arm, charging it a pale blue shade.

Then, the injuries of the goblin swarm began to heal.

Goromir's shattered back and dismembered leg regenerated, the bones and alighting, new leg bones sprouting before flesh and nerves and skin padded it over.

Kandak's three mangled, burnt arms and hole in his stomach fully restored, the blackened and deadened flesh sloughing off to reveal newly grown biomass while the hole sealed over.

The rest of the injuries across the swarm were also healed, but none of them were significant to any degree.

"Yet," said the Collector. "It is imprudent to suffer such injuries in defense of a swarm that is also battle capable. Know that it is possible for me to expend magical energy to restore your injuries, no matter how severe they may be, but to bring you back from complete expiry will require that your corpse is preserved, and though this environment is apt for such preservation, there is no guarantee that I shall always be immediately available."

"We understand, Sovnar," said Goromir with a deep head bow, placing his fist over his heart. "We know well that it is not always possible for you to bring us back from the dead, but my brother and I thought it best to save the rest of the tribe with our strength, for their lives are our own also."

"Save the blood of Gob. That is what we train to do," said Kandak.

The goblin swarm champions gave respectful nods to the twin elites.

"But I wanted fight too!" came one shout among the champions.

"When you can knock me down once in a match, then we can talk of you fighting a beast like that!" said Goromir with a chuckle. "Come now, I know we have all faced death together before, but throwing away the life your Sovnar has granted you again so easily?

Your bravery is quite unmatched."

"Guess you right," said the champion. "But next time, I knock you down."

"Always welcome for the challenge," said Goromir.

The Collector clicked its mandibles in further understanding. It viewed the goblin swarm as a collection of units with the three elites being units of more worth that naturally should utilize the other champion units to defend themselves or as distractions.

In optimal, efficient usage, of course.

But because the swarm was a collection of individuals, and because the elites possessed their own codes of conduct and moral ideations, they would give their own lives before allowing the lesser units to expire before them.

Of course, this was not entirely inefficient. The Collector was beginning to understand the perspective of individuals and how they could possess a different form of efficiency. By defending the champions with their lives, the elites inculcated further loyalty and drive.

There would have been no need to do so in a hivemind, but the Collector understood that as a collection of individuals, they were attempting to approximate to the best of their capability the efficiency of a hive.

This was enough to sate the Collector, for it had made the choice to utilize the swarm knowing there could be inefficiencies here and there. So long as they were minimized in some way, it could accommodate.

"Carrier unit," said the Collector, noting the unit known as 'Thokk's' aversion to meeting the Collector directly. "Your injuries are not severe."

"I know, Sovnar, and I am sorry," said Thokk. He knelt down. "I tried to fight with Goromir and Kandak, but I was too weak. The beast nearly had me clutched in its jaws, and Kandak had to save me. My distraction let the beast charge its great breath, and so many other champions were burnt."

"That is of little consequence," stated the Collector. "There are no deaths and marginal injuries. Misplacing mental concern over issues of the past is also highly inefficient. Do not do so. Spend such processing power in future development to prevent potential inefficiencies."

"Come now," said Goromir as he came up to Thokk and raised him up from his kneeling position. "We have not trained you fully yet. Exhaust your potential, then you can cry about whether you are weak or not."

Goromir pointed a finger towards the whole swarm. "And that goes for all of you too. My brother and I will train all of you as we travel. Learn our ways, our flesh arts, and become strong. Show us you are worthy of the Blood of Gob. The rule of the Sovnar."

A general commotion of assent rose among the swarm, and the Collector clicked its mandibles as it noted this. "My flight speeds have already been calculated to adjust for two rests a day for your kind. One for sustenance, one for slumber. I shall extend such rest times for the induction of this concept known as 'training'."

The Collector itself had little idea of what training was like. It was born knowing how to fight, and its observational and processing skills were sharp enough to learn techniques and movements with utter ease. It understood that tinkerers utilized 'training' to approximate what the Collector did but over extended periods of time.

Highly inefficient, and yet, the Collector was willing to spend the time to allow the goblin swarm to cultivate their strength.

"But there is little time to squander now," said the Collector. "Draconid mobilization possesses the chance to indicate that they are searching for me. We shall take a longer route towards the Rift, crossing the mountain range through its eastern end where it will be farthest from draconid presences.

Our travel time will reach thirty-four hours if moving at eighty percent efficiency. Follow my presence from above and take wary note of your surroundings. Do not hesitate to output a distress signal in the case that stronger enemies manifest."

"Understood, Sovnar," said Goromir, and Kandak nodded.

Thokk, too nodded, putting his fist over his heart in learned salute. "I will not disappoint, Sovnar."

The Collector pushed off the ground, sending out a tremor of force as its white form of hyperalloy carapace shot into the air at rapid speeds, quickly forming a sonic boom that rippled outwards, scattering Grain. It flew high, but not so high that it was over the cloud cover so as to still benefit from the obscuring effects of Grainfall.

Then, the Collector oriented itself to its new trajectory, and began to move, its twin wings of chaos red flickering as they fueled its flight. As the Collector soared through empty airspace, it pondered the nature of the 'White Voice'.

The Collector knew by now that the 'White Voice' was a manifestation of the planet, but the nature of a genuine 'White Voice' was one full of uncertainties the Collector did not yet have information to glean.

Evidence pointed towards the shard of the 'White Voice' within the Collector right now as that which was genuine for it was the one the Jotnar worshipped. This, the Collector knew for the shard it possessed on its head was the same the Jotnar cherished.

Yet, if a shard alone necessitated a quality of authenticity, then the draconids were not far behind, for they too possessed a shard.

There was the possibility that there were multiple incarnations of the 'White Voice', and this, the Collector gave some credence too, for when it had heard the voice from the draconid before it was forcibly erupted, it could sense that the psionic profile of the voice was not entirely the same as that which it had experienced from absorbing its shard.

Similar in wavelength, but still variant. Variant enough to be distinctively separated into two different individuals.

The Collector would understand more of this when it reached the Jotnar. To that end, taking the eastward path was actually more efficient, for the slumbering place was located in a far eastern pocket of the Wailwaste.

The only issue was that the Grainfall became thinner the more east the Collector went. Grainfall was sourced from the western half of the Wailwaste, generated by the corpse of a titan that lay approximately in that location if wind currents and movements were to be accurately assessed.

The meteorological phenomenon known as the 'Great Storm' also contributed to the distribution of Grain, but it by now was located also in the western half of the Wailwaste.

This meant that for a few hours as they traveled east, the Collector and the swarm would be exposed without Grainfall, but they would quickly regain cover as they approached northward to the Rift.

For now, the Collector considered this an acceptable risk.

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The Collector and the swarm moved northeast, the Collector cruising on high altitude directly beneath cloud cover while the goblin swarm took the land. Again, the airspace was relatively calm, for there did not seem to be many aerial specimen well adapted to this biome with its intensive meteorological phenomena.

Only the sturdy draconids were reliable masters of the air, though as the appearance of the white feathered avians had suggested, there were likely more aerial specimen beyond the Rift.

In general, there would be stronger, more well adapted creatures.

Whether they would stand up to the Collector's test was to be seen. It estimated that with the purifying light blades and higher settings of Breath of Life regeneration, the goblin swarm could reasonably overwhelm swarms of singular stronger creatures.

The issue arose in encountering multiple such enemies.

Eight hours into travel, the Collector sensed a distress signal from the carrier unit. It immediately changed course, directing itself towards the swarm. It cut through the fall of grain like a comet, sailing downwards at supersonic speeds until it reached a few dozen meters above ground, peering down with its advanced sensory systems for any anomalies.

The Collector could make out the goblins standing tensely against a lone figure. Naturally, the three elites Goromir, Kandak, and Thokk were more forward than the others, but the champions were not far behind. All of them had their light blades out, and their body language indicated an extreme level of wariness.

That wariness radiated even from the elites, indicating a sizable threat.

Yet, the lone figure standing in that circle did not move against them.

The Collector flew down to the ground, and as it approached, victorious cries arose.

"The Sovnar is here! We beat the adventurer now!"

As the Collector approached the elites, the champions started to come up too, emboldened by the Collector's presence.

"No!" shouted Goromir. "Champions, stand back. Only let the Sovnar forwards. This is Undeath, and the likes of you cannot risk being infected."

The Collector clicked its mandibles as it came side by side to the three elites. It gazed at the lone figure before them.

A specimen from the tinkering races, it was quite evident. But from a humanoid variant that the Collector had not yet observed.

The tinkerer was taller than the average human and possessing of a slender but toned build. He wore sky blue robes, pants, and brown boots with a cloak of thick skins slung over his shoulders. The quality and design of weave of the robes was far different than that of the cloak, likely belonging to entirely different cultures

The humanoid possessed sharp, pointed ears. Pale skin and gaunt facial features with a scattering of scales dotted on his forehead. His eyes were reptilian and shaded an opaque black. His lips were curled up in a snarl, revealing sharp teeth.

A long, scaled blue tail emerged from behind the specimen, and two fins dotted its end.

The Collector knew what this specimen was. It remembered from tales of the world the female daemon specimen had told it.

This was a humanoid known as a 'Yinlong'. A tinkering species that lived primarily in aquatic biomes.

The humanoid gripped in both hands a lengthy blade that curved slightly at the top. The blade was a deep, azure blue, and droplets of frozen water hovered around it.

"The specimen does not move," stated the Collector. It noted that Goromir had lost two arms, sliced cleanly off by the humanoid's blade. His arms were on the snow, and the cuts were truly precise, severing with a honed edge backed by equally honed technique.

Goromir picked up the arms and attached them back with the aid of Breath of Life regeneration.

"Yes, Sovnar. It was sealed," said Goromir. It jutted its chin forward, gesturing down to the humanoid's feet.

Around the humanoid was a circular series of sigils that glowed yellow. The Collector noted further that the light was dying down, with the break in the flow of mana in the magic occurring at a spot where the seals had been smudged off of the ground.

"But the seal is breaking," said Goromir. "This time, my fault. I sensed the magical energy surging from this Yin, and I struck first, believing it a threat to the tribe. I did not notice it was sealed, and my movements shattered it.

Nor did I notice it was undead.

I fear I may have afflicted this land with a great calamity."

"Tell me of the nature of Undeath," stated the Collector, seeing if the twin elites with their ancient knowledge knew more.

"In stretches where the world has died, where there is no mana, simply a nothingness, a corrupting influence rises from the dirt, cloying in the air. Those that imbibe it become Undead," said Goromir. "Nigh unkillable. Infinitely regenerative mana. And their mere presence spreads their foul corruption.

Only once in our kingdom's five-hundred-year history did an Undead ever arise, and thank Gob it was simply a young child that had wandered into a pit of corrupting emptiness. Easy to eliminate.

This one, however-," Goromir pointed his tusks at the Yinlong. "Not so. He is strong. Made ten times stronger by the Undeath curse."

The Collector noted that the adventurer's emblem had five stars studded upon it, but even a five-star adventurer was nothing to the Collector as it was now even with the most generous of calculations using the four-star adventurer as a base.

"This specimen does not observe great degrees of intelligence," said the Collector, noting that the Yinlong only stared at the Collector and the swarm with unbridled, uncontrolled rage, its blackened eyes wide. "It is likely that simply by disengaging and moving around it, any confrontation may be avoided.

If the specimen carries a form of pathogen, then such would be the most prudent course of action.

I understand that the presence of 'Undeath' also necessitates the appearance of tinkering forces to contain it. When we move around the specimen, we must move quickly lest the tinkerers track us."

Just as the Collector said this, the seal around the specimen crackled and the yellow light of mana emanating from it died down.

A sudden breach.

Inconvenient, but manageable.

The Yinlong snarled and lunged forwards at exceptional speeds, a flare of yellow magical energy surrounding its body in a golden aura as it slashed with its blade, aiming for Goromir's head.

The Collector instantaneously stepped in front of Goromir and grabbed the blade by the tip, its hyperalloy carapace hand unable to be pierced easily.

"Go," stated the Collector. "Move beyond this specimen. I will deal with it. If it is a pathogen that infects this specimen, whether it be biological, magical, or psionic, then it will not affect me. Yet, I cannot guarantee certainty to your kind."

"Will you be okay, Sovnar?" said Thokk.

"The Sovnar knows what he says. Let's go, young one," said Goromir.

"Everyone. Move!" shouted Kandak, waving the rest of the swarm forwards.

The swarm of goblins moved past the Collector and the Yinlong, sprinting at full speeds away.

The fall of Grain was minimal in this area, indicating why the Yinlong specimen was here and why it could expel magical energy like this. Judging by the initial burst of power and the color of its mana, the Yinlong possessed an offensively oriented Root aura.

The Root mana affinity, symbolized by yellow, was focused on concentration. It specialized heavily in a specific type of flow, meaning those that bore the affinity were supremely good at one thing.

In this case, the Yinglong here was a master of offensively oriented mana flow.

"Interesting," said the Collector as it held the blade as the Yinlong continued to try and tug backwards, straining against the Collector's immense physical might. "You are capable of outputting a maximal amount of mana over an indefinite period of time. Your mana regenerates as soon as it is lost, and yet, I cannot sense any threads from which you draw this mana, as if it is drawn from nothing."

The Yinlong only snarled before it paused, driving its legs into the snow in a form of stance. Then, the blade the Collector held glowed a bright blue, water starting to accelerate around the edge at hyperspeed, forming a rapidly cutting edge that started to saw into the Collector's carapace.

Sparks flew from the constant rapid contact, but the Collector's carapace was immensely durable, and its smartshock structure adapted to the trauma, forming grooves that deflected the edge of the water saw.

"Your mana is infinitely regenerative, but your maximal output remains the same, and it is not enough to defeat me." The Collector twisted the blade, shaking the Yinlong off balance, and then shot out one of its hands and placed it on the specimen's head.

"I can sense no output of viral matter nor pathogen from you. Nor can I sense any form of magical or psionic corruption," continued the Collector as its hand closed around the head in a crushing grip "Odd."

The Collector then pulled with a burst of red mana, and tore the head clean off.

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The Collector peered at the decapitated head in one of its arms with mild interest, its four glowing red eyes flickering as they scanned and analyzed, green magical energy enveloping them.

Haze.

This was what the Collector found from its mana scanning. The flow of mana from the specimen itself was clear, almost unnaturally clear.

All living specimens' bodies formed a natural dampener for the expression of their magical energy. Their skin and flesh encased their hearts, their core, and flowed mana within them, and thus insulated them from outward observation somewhat.

This was part of the principle of why it was difficult to directly affect an individual's mana core from within. The rest of the body formed a protective barrier.

However, this 'Undead' specimen flared out its magical energy constantly and with such clarity that it almost seemed as if it was just a walking core, lacking any dampening inherent to every magic capable living being.

Yet, when the Collector attempted to sense where exactly this specimen was drawing its infinite supply of mana, it could find only haze. A faint black haze that emanated all around the specimen's form, but one that granted zero discernible information.

The Collector clicked its mandibles in further risk analysis. The black haze had no ill effect to the Collector, but its anomalous, unknown nature still made it questionable to deal with.

At the least, though the Collector's external form seemed immune, it was possible that consuming this specimen could create complications.

The Collector suddenly felt the decapitated specimen's body violently move backwards with a jerking motion, this time utilizing its water blade in such a way that the rotational flow of water around the sword shunted it backwards with a slippery surface, allowing the body to break from the Collector's grasp.

"So you are capable of high function without a processing unit," said the Collector. It peered at the head in its hand and watched as it dissolved into black particles. Then, those particles gathered around the headless body's neck and reformed a new head.

This time, the head was slightly paler, a few more sunken wrinkles setting in its face, causing it to look even more wild, even more unhinged.

Regardless, the specimen snarled and fought again. This time, the specimen took a small leap backwards and sheathed his blade while leaning forwards.

Yellow magical energy surged violently around the specimen before heavily condensing into his body like a spring-loaded coil, ready to explosively shoot out.

The Collector analyzed this technique.

A stance meant to quickly withdraw the blade at heavily enhanced speeds with empowered physicals to deal a single devastating strike.

At maximum capacity, it was enough to even slice through the Collector's carapace, though not much more than that.

Then, the specimen altered its attack. It took in a visible breath and adjusted the thumb on the sword handle such that it stuck out.

The specimen exhaled, and then cut the air in front of it in a horizontal, sweeping arc. From this slash, a crescent of highly pressurized water shot forwards at beyond supersonic speeds.

The Collector predicted this and put one of its carapaced hands forward and condensed it with a moderated [Guard]. The crescent blade of water crashed against the Collector's hand and broke apart against the hard surface into spatters of ordinary water.

"No true higher intelligence, and yet you retain all combat sense and readiness," said the Collector. "Anomalous. The mechanisms by which you replenish your mana reserves further maintain your bodily functions and processing to some degree, it would seem."

The Collector took slow steps forward, further analyzing the specimen for anomalies and to see whether this would be a battle worth anything.

The specimen took in an even deeper breath now, his chest heaving out, and then his mana spiked considerably. A temporary burst of triple capacity manifesting in a raging golden aura of flowing currents rising all around the specimen's form.

The Collector clicked its mandibles in interest. The specimen was overloading its own body with mana capacity, breaking apart its flesh and cracking its bones, and ordinarily, this would have been a highly self-destructive technique, but with its unending regeneration, it had no real downsides.

The specimen took his blade out and circled it around himself in a sort of preparatory ritual before holding it above his head, the tip of the blue blade still pointed at the Collector.

The immense amounts of magical energy around the specimen funneled towards the blade, and it glowed bright blue, huge swells of water emerging from it and coiling around to form the head of a reptilian specimen similar in appearance to the Collector's own head.

A 'dragon', the Collector presumed.

The specimen then took a single heavy step forwards and swung down. Snow blasted away from around it as power and mana surged outwards in one cataclysmic expulsion, all of it funneling into shooting out a torrent of serpentine, coiling water with the dragon's visage at its head.

The Collector crossed its four arms in front of itself and pumped them full of chaos mana in a heavy [Guard]. The water dragon slammed into the Collector with an enormous impact akin to the crashing of a waterfall.

The attack was both slicing and concussive in damage, and the Collector skidded backwards several meters, a fairly deep cut sliced into its arm carapace. Water that froze into hail fell all around it from the geyser it had erupted into when it crashed against the Collector.

The Collector beheld its sliced carapace and then used the draconid's explosive regeneration to simply heal it.

"Amusing," said the Collector. It unsheathed two purifying light blades from its upper forearms. "Then like this?"

The Collector then took in a deep breath, stimulating its core to draw in vast amounts of magical energy.

Then, it braced its abdominal muscles while forcing its heart to pump into overdrive, heavily accelerating bloodflow and manaflow temporarily, massively enhancing its capacity to output magical energy in one burst attack.

The Collector mimicked the sword wielding undead perfectly, drawing out a circle around itself with its light blades first, using that movement to focus the flow of its heavily enhanced magical energy, and then when it raised its blades overhead, the charged mana flowed into the blades.

Unlike the undead specimen, the Collector did not overcharge its mana to the degree it damaged its own body. Just enough to replicate the technique itself.

Even so, the amount of mana that raged around the Collector far eclipsed that which the undead had mustered, shaking the earth and parting the snow around the Collector.

The Collector's red mana coalesced around the blades into the visage not of a drake, but of the Collector itself, as a shade of its blade toothed, four eyed head.

The Collector struck downwards, ejecting forwards a beam of mana shaped as the Collector.

The size of this strike completely dwarfed the water dragon that the undead specimen had shot against the Collector by a factor of three, and when the Collector's projection of mana crashed against the specimen, it caused an explosion that rattled the air, shattering the ground beneath the specimen in sizable crater while its body blew apart into countless small chunks.

The Collector used Sapia to recover the many shattered chunks of the specimen's blue blade, hovering them into its maw for sample collection.

*Metalloglottic Ossifier sample obtained [1/5*

-Aqualite

The Collector observed as the undead specimen began to bring itself together even from near complete bodily destruction. Black particulates gathered around first a core, and the core formed the specimen's heart, and from there, everything else was built around.

The Collector aimed its Superacid Bilespitter at the core and fired a burst of acid.

Would the specimen recover from complete molecular degradation?

The green liquid doused the heart, searing it before completely eating it away in a a tenth of a second.

The Collector clicked its mandibles.

The heart started to form again from nothing.

It was then that the Collector decided stop observing the specimen for data regarding its condition and further techniques.

Because the specimen outputted so much magical energy that it did not hide, it would be a lightningrod to attract any investigative tinkerers, especially here where the Grainfall was low and becoming lower by the moment.

The Collector flew into the air, out of sight, and if its prior analyses of the specimen was correct, it would just forget about the Collector and move aimlessly forwards. The tinkerers would deal with it. The Collector had no obligation to destroy it.

In the air, however, the Collector noted an interesting anomaly. Two hundred or so meters from the undead specimen, there was a small protrusion in the snow that the Collector's advanced sensory systems gleaned.

From the way the snow gathered around it, the Collector assessed that something had been buried by the heavy snowfall.

The Collector allocated a minor amount of time to investigate this.

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Read Alien Evolution System Chapter 151 - Message online for free - AllNovelFull

The Collector landed beside the small, nearly imperceptible mound in the snow. There was no doubt about it. From further analysis of the fall of snow and the geometric orientation of how the snow had fallen in this specific structure, there was a specimen underneath.

A still specimen that possessed no signs of vitals according to the Collector's immediate sensory investigation. Nor was there any hint of magical energy output.

The Collector utilized Sapia to uncover the snow, purple wreaths of energy outlining the white matter and driving it away. Underneath a meter of snow was the body of a humanoid. A smaller humanoid, and judging by an analysis of its features, a female human that had yet to reach full maturity, likely being within ten to fourteen years of age.

Her skin had become pale, tinted by the faintest shade of blue, and stiff, ice crystals having frozen her solid. She was curled up in a ball to preserve warmth, yet the elements had been too harsh for her to withstand. This was in spite of the fact that she wore thick animal hides and skins meant to prevent her from expiring due to exposure.

Her eyes were closed, having entered a sleep of finality from which she would not awake.

The Collector estimated that it had been slightly over one day since the specimen had perished. Because she was dead, her living body possessed no real core and mana flow with which to resist the Collector's Sapia, nor could she have had she been alive.

She was far too weak. A core's innate protection against foreign magical influences only worked up to an extent. A sufficiently more powerful individual could still overpower it.

The Collector used Sapia to uncurl the specimen. It shattered off an arm and consumed it to gain information, and from that, gleaned that the female specimen was a human adapted to this biome, possessing pale skin capable of withstanding cold, but Grainfall was dramatically colder than anything she was used to.

Even the goblins had difficulty initially adapting to it, let alone a weaker human like this.

Other than that, the specimen was unremarkable biologically, nor did she seem to possess an adequate quantity of spirit roots to indicate high magical potential.

However, she held clutched in her chest a bag of leathery skin.

The Collector investigated this, floating the skin towards itself and opening it up. Within, the Collector found a Volcanite shard meant for starting fires, a red lightstone meant to emanate heat, though it had long lost magical energy to do so, a flask for containing water, and a plain blue crystal that still hummed with magical energy.

The Collector telekinetically withdrew the blue crystal and noted a sigil within it. From analysis of its magical design, it could determine that the crystal was meant to be activated by inputting magical energy in it, and there was no encryption or deterrence preventing anyone from activating it.

The Collector flowed in a small measure of mana to activate the crystal, sensing little to no threat from it. Even if the crystal was some kind of detonatable device, the amount of magical energy stored in it was so infinitesimal that it would do nothing to the Collector.

The crystal glowed a faint blue before emitting a voice. A young male humanoid's voice.

A recording, the Collector noted.

"Greetings, to any who has activated this record crystal, and thank you for listening to my message. My name is Liu Qian, five-star adventurer of the League, and I was assigned for the B-rank contract in the Guild of Middir.

My objective was to find the lost daughter of the Boar-clan's chieftain, and I am quite pleased to say that I have been successful on that end. She was being held by a tribe of Amoraks located in the Dark Zone some way north of the Signi Outpost of the Order.

Exactly where, I cannot say, for the fall of Grain prevents me from conjuring any real magic to ascertain my location. I slew a great host of the Amoraks, but as to why they were keeping the chieftain's daughter, I could not ascertain.

It did not seem like they hungered for her flesh, nor did she have much meat on her bones in the first place. Rather, they had painted her in their tribal colors, presumably for some ritual, but in the arcane arts, though I am competent, I am not truly an expert.

Thus, I cannot say.

Regardless, know that Astrid did not meet her end between Amorak jaws. If…if she did meet her end, it was with a fellow Common being by her side."

A brief pause. Then, the voice continued.

"That is not the true intent of this message. What I am to convey signifies a threat that may potentially drown the entirety of this land in the curse of Undeath.

In rescuing Astrid, it seems that I have fallen under the curse of Undeath's ill effects. I do not know exactly how this came to be.

It may have been that the Amoraks have somehow harnessed the curse against me, or that perhaps they themselves were accursed, or that I had stepped foot into a Null Zone where Undead energy flows strong.

Regardless, my time is limited, and by the time I record this message, I fear I am a mere day's time away from fully turning. The curse has slowed me down, and I fear I am still far from the Signi Outpost. The fall of Grain is still heavy, and I have run out of light crystals for warmth.

Thus, I send Astrid now with this message.

A message to the Order and the League that the foul presence of Undead may be brewing far north, in the depths of the Dark Zones where Grain obscures any investigation.

Pray, I beseech the League and Order to investigate, but to also be wary.

To those that hear this message and feel enough generosity in their hearts, I also ask of a few final wishes.

I shall be sealed within a Sealing Array. Eliminate and fully seal my Undead self. If it is possible, take from me the Azure Edge, my blade. It is a family heirloom, and I wish it to be returned to my home. It belongs to the Water Breath school of Blade Rippling headed by my father, the head of the Liu clan in the River Province in Haiyang of Xia.

I wish my family to possess at least one physical remnant of me before my soul now passes to the gods.

Also, to any that find Astrid, if…if she has fallen, then know that she was a kind, sweet, and bright soul, and that she was destined for much greatness, and that this world has lost a great light in her falling.

To her family, to her father Magni, chieftain of the Boar clan, I can extend only my deepest apologies. I tried my best, and it has ended in failure.

None other would take a contract to a Dark Zone, and I, as martial artist, thought myself suited to it, but alas, I wonder much whether another would have been more capable than me.

Grant Astrid all burial rites of honor. I have ensured that the Undeath did not spread to her. To Magni, I know that this is no recompense for her life, but I also bequeath the Pale Moon, one of six great blades of the Liu family."

The blue glow of the stone died down, indicating that the recording had stopped.

The Collector noted this development with a click of its mandibles. The information was useful in assessing the nature of this 'Undeath' as a threat. It was highly evident that based upon the goblin elite's reaction and the tone of high urgency in this message that the phenomenon of 'Undaeth' was perceived as an extraordinary threat by tinkerers.

The mode of transmission for this pathogen, or 'curse' as the tinkerer put it, seemed to be in proximity with an infected specimen or exposure to a 'Null Zone'.

Yet, the Collector even with advanced and close exposure to the infected specimen had not suffered any il effects, nor did it believe it possible for pathogen biological or magical to effectively infect it, for the Collective had absolutely ensured against such possibilities.

What the Collector could glean from this was that this area was likely to become a hotbed of extreme activity, for if the tinkerers could not sense the presence of undead in the Grain and allowed the pathogen to proliferate, they would have extreme difficulty in dealing with it when it emerged on their front door.

To that end, it seemed that the dwarven fleet must have been sent here to investigate this undead outbreak.

In other words, time was more limited than what the Collector had initially calculated to stay in this area.

The Collector could not investigate further. It would have to leave now if the tinkerers were already aware of the undead and actively searching for it.

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The Collector made preparations to leave. It utilized Sapia to leave the specimen exactly as she had been, covering her corpse, closing her leather bag, and returning her to her original position.

Notably, however, the Collector took the record crystal with it, for in doing so, it would ensure that even if the tinkerers found the corpse and the undead swordsman, they would lack significant context and thus have fewer ideas of how to investigate the undead threat approaching them.

This would soften the tinkerers' military might greatly while the Collector traveled beyond the Rift where it would be untouchable to them. Then, when the Collector emerged from the Rift with another Shard and more military might, it could more easily engage a weakened tinkering force.

There were of course ramifications for this situation regarding the conquering force the Collector had left behind beneath the Rift.

These, the Collector would communicate with later and tell them to be wary of undead presences, and at the moment that one was spotted, to navigate a path northwards beyond the Rift to join the rest of the swarm.

The Collector took one last gaze at the female human specimen that it had buried once more in the snow. In terms of physical capability, she was slightly above that of the female daemon specimen, but largely, both were quite similar in terms of maturity and capability.

This was what would have happened if the female daemon specimen had survived and gone with the Collector to this biome. She would not have survived even an hour in such a harsh environment with her lack of resistance to the cold and no garments to wear to fend her against it.

She would have succumbed to the elements just like this. At the least, she had died in peace knowing of the Collective's all welcoming breadth unlike this specimen that had frozen alone.

The Collector broke the lingering thought chain and flew upwards, its twin red wings of energy flaring like the thrusters of a jet as it soared high before marking out a quick path northwards, back to the goblin swarm.

If the adventurer's record was accurate, then in the area immediately beneath the Rift, where the swarm was headed now, there would be the presence of creatures known as 'Amoraks'.

These, the Collector knew in slight passing from one of the goblin elder's tales.

Amoraks were bipedal and yet far more beast than tinkerer. They formed rough social units through tribes, but they functioned off of a basic hierarchy of power where an 'Alpha' specimen controlled the movements of the pack and retained all rights to reproduction and child rearing.

They were canid in appearance and possessed great strength, speed, and a heightened tracking sense that allowed them to hunt for creatures across vast swathes of land regardless of whether wind or snow obscured scents and tracks.

Yet, it would seem that the adventurer could easily dispatch them, indicating that they were far too weak to challenge the Collector.

The Collector was becoming to realize that its power had now reached a threshold where a vast majority of specimen on this world could not stand up to it, but it could also sense that the higher it went, the higher it would have to reach, for the absolute zenith of power of this planet in the form of the gods was still dramatically higher than what the Collector could match now.

The Amoraks would not pose much of a threat to the Collector, but they could potentially be a threat to the goblin swarm.

The swarm could quite reliably fight them as well, with champions boosted by the Breath of Life's physical stat amplification and regeneration likely matching the Amoraks and the elites far exceeding them, but if the adventurer's hypothesis was correct in that they were infected with Undeath, then they posed more of a threat.

As if to confirm the Collector's train of thought, it received another distress signal from the swarm ahead, and it boosted its flight speed, easily surpassing the sound barrier as it shot forth as a blur of red and white.

The Collector happened upon the goblin swarm engaging in a fierce fight with specimens the Collector could easily identify as Amoraks, for though the Collector had never seen them, it had enough description to quite easily identify them.

The Collector observed from above.

The Amoraks were stronger than what the goblin elder had led the Collector to believe.

They were savage beings of primal musculature and ferocity. With guttural growls and savage yells, they surged forth with claws bared and lupine jaws bared. They were furred thickly in grey with bloodshot red eyes that gleamed through the fall of Grain.

The champions and elites were fending them off. The champions seemed to be equally matched against each individual Amorak, of which there were approximately seven. Purifying light blade slashes rent deep and grievous wounds in the Amoraks, with slices reaching their flesh through their thick, armor-like fur causing explosive, caustic reactions that left their bodies riddled with holes.

Yet, the Amorak kept fighting. Their cores were highlighted in red, visible through their fur and skin, pumping immense amounts of blood and mana through their bodies in overloading magical energy. They veins were highly visible, engorged with blood, acting as vessels to transfer power.

The accelerated blood flow even acted against them, making blood pour out from their wounds in free falling waterfalls and spurts, but the Amorak still fought, regenerating all the while.

The Collector understood then: the Amorak specimens were all undead.

Yet, curiously, the Collector noted that the goblins were not suffering from the Undeath pathogen. Many of them were getting bit, scratched, and wrestled with, and though black splotches appeared on their pale white skin, the Breath of Life ice crystals encroached against it, completely reversing the process.

An indication then that the Breath of Life, an ability of the Jotnar to fulfill a planetary function to cultivate life where there was none, was the direct antithesis of Undeath.

In essence: the Breath of Life rendered specimen immune to Undeath.

Regardless, because the regenerative ice crystals had to cure the spread of Undeath, they could not aid in regeneration, and thus the goblins were slowly and surely becoming overwhelmed.

The elites beat back the Amoraks quite well with the exception of a single anomaly who was far larger and fiercer than the others, possessing a thick black mane as well as surges of crackling mana golden mana that lined his every move.

An 'Alpha' specimen, or something close to it, the Collector presumed.

Regardless, the Collector decided now to intervene.

The Collector shot down into the ground, in the direct midst of a few Amorak, and the impact of it landing generated a shockwave that blasted away the Amorak.

"The Sovnar! The Sovnar has come!" came a shout.

A roar of triumph spread among the goblins, and they pressed forward with renewed morale.

"I will deal with these pitifully weak specimens," stated the Collector as it flexed out its magical energy, forming an enormous, swirling pillar of red around it that lit up the entire battlefield with crimson.

The undead Amorak sensed the Collector's massive energy levels and stopped their assault on other goblins, instead lunging at the Collector, determining it a new threat.

One Amorak snarled as it leaped in the air, snapping at the Collector's throat.

The Collector reached two of its hands out and jammed them into the beast's mouth. The Amorak's teeth clinked against the Collector's ultra durable hyperalloy carapace, yielding no damage.

Then, with a burst of red mana, the Collector completely tore the Amorak in half from the jaw down. A shower of red blood and entrails scattered all across from the bisected specimen.

There were more Amorak approaching, and the Collector noted that the split halves of the Amorak were trying to merge together.

An easy solution.

The Collector took either half of the severed Amorak and whipped them at two other Amorak, splattering their skulls with the halves of their fellow specimen.

With their heads exploded, the two Amoraks slumped down to their knees initially, though for only a mere second before they started to move again even with their pulped heads.

The Collector unleashed its purifying light blades and cut through the three Amorak corpses, blowing them up into bloody, heated chunks from which they would take far longer to regenerate. It puts its light blade to its side, tensing its body and drawing in a breath, and looked ahead to the other Amorak charging at it.

Then, the Collector slashed forwards in rapid succession, and each time, it shot forth a projectile blade of purifying light. The adventurer swordsman's technique.

The crescents of purifying light slashed into every Amorak with pinpoint accuracy, severing them in half at the waist before initiating a cataclysmic explosive reaction in their bodies.

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"Move," commanded the Collector, its deep yet calm, elegant voice resonating powerfully across the snow, reaching the ears of the goblin champions that had been downed or still panting and struggling from the Amoraks.

Without hesitation, the champions gained a burst of energy and gathered behind the Collector, for though they loved the fight, they also felt great awe in witnessing the might of the one they revered as Sovnar.

"Come, infected specimens, and meet your end." The Collector glided forwards, its arms outstretched to its sides in invitation as its voice projected even further, towards the undead the remaining undead Amorak.

It could sense that they were approaching rapidly from the distance, through the swirling rage of snow and Grain.

A full pack of twenty-three more.

But what use was crashing ants against a tidal wave? That was the futility of these Amorak specimen fighting against the Collector.

Before the rest of the twenty three could converge fully, the Collector first freed the three elites from their burden: the Alpha specimen.

The Collector pointed one of its left arms to the snarling, maned, hulking mass of ferocity, and as Goromir dodged deftly under a swipe, the Collector fired a spine from its Spine Spitter.

An immense collection of contractile muscles lining the pathway for the spine's delivery accelerated it at hypersonic speeds, and in an instant, the spine – the size of a tinkerer's blade – embedded into the alpha's heart, punching right out the other side.

For a moment, the alpha faltered, slumping down to its knees in inactivity. It was far more efficient to disable the cores than the heat, the Collector came to realize, for the cores, charged with foreign energy, were the source of the undead's continued movement, fueling them like automatons.

With the alpha's constant and wild movements halted, the three elites gave a swift end to the alpha, digging their light blades into the beast's form and causing it to explode into smoking smithereens of charred flesh.

The elites then leaped backwards, behind the Collector to rejoin the rest of the swarm and act as their guardian.

The Collector used Sapia to take the regenerating remains of the Amorak it had killed and entomb them in a ball of snow. Chunks of flesh, half grown hearts, half formed skeletal systems, all of these swirled into one pulped mass that further encased in snow.

The Collector closed its fist with a powerful movement, its carapace clinking together, and the Sapia intensified. The purple aura around the snow tomb intensified before condensing with cracks, the snow compacting into hardened ice that crushed everything within and kept it there for the foreseeable future.

Snarls, growls, and howls echoed out in front of the Collector. Now just twenty meters away, and would rapidly approach in the next second and a half.

A whole host of furred grey bodies striding forth across the snow on all fours with predatory ease, their movements so agile that their paws barely even made indents on the snow. These creatures, the elder had greatly feared before the ascension of the swarm.

The goblins had thought them beasts of savagery and also measured intelligence that they absolutely had to avoid, for they preyed upon anything their jaws caught, including goblin flesh.

But against the Collector, they posed no more threat than a litter of pups.

The first Amorak leaped up at the Collector, snapping at its throat.

The Collector tore this one in half too, ensuring the force of the tear would rupture its heart also.

Another Amorak reached out to the Collector's legs. This one, the Collector kicked with a burst of chaos mana, and the force of the blow was enough that coupled with the shockwave it emitted, it completely eviscerated the upper half of the specimen's body, sailing back chunks of splattered flesh, viscera, and shattered bone.

Ten Amorak now circling the Collector.

The Collector's dorsal fin glowed with a ghostly blue electrical charge as it primed. When the Collector poured in its immense mana into the fin, it reacted explosively, glowing pure blue, almost white, as lightning crackled all around it in a screaming torrent.

The bolts and arcs of electricity condensed and gathered tightly around the Collector, forming a ball of pure electricity, and this, the Amorak saw and began to step back a little, attempting to see how they could penetrate it.

Yet, the Collector was not here to clam up in a defensive shell. It was here to slaughter them.

The Collector slammed two of its fists together, and the condensed electrical energy shot out into multiple forks of lightning that pierced through the hearts of the ten Amorak, completely eviscerating the organs before the electrical energy surged further and simply blew apart their torsos wholesale.

Three Amorak lunged forwards at the Collector, seeing the lightning sphere gone.

The Collector opened up it stomach maw and unleashed a torrent of its Pyrocatalytic Glands. With its new Instant Trigger sub-adaptation, it did not have to wait for the biotrigger to activate against the glands. The entire system was adapted into one single mechanism, and the blue-white flames burst outwards in searing power, engulfing the three Amorak.

The Amorak fell to the ground not because of pain, for they felt none, but because the flames melted their bones, flesh, connective tissues, tendons, and brains in mere instants.

More Amorak lunging now from various different angles.

The Collector performed a rapid, stationary spin, and the three Pliomatter Tendrils on its back extended and used the Collector's rotational momentum to act as whips that traveled so quickly they simply sliced through the Amorak bodies wholesale, cutting them in half accurately at their heart level .

As severed bodies landed around the Collector, they showered it in red, painting it in life blood, and the Collector's carapace pores quickly drank it all, restoring it to its shining white figure.

This was a symphony of carnage, a triumphant medley of body parts and destroyed hearts, and the Collector was its expert orchestrator.

A particularly large, black furred Amorak now appeared.

Another maned specimen, and one that stood as tall as the Collector's three meter height. It would seem that the black-furred maned specimen were not the 'Alphas', but more like sub-commanders.

Indicating that this force of thirty was not the full extent of the swarm. There was to be an 'Alpha' specimen if the elder's information was correct, though before the elder's Breath of Life ascension, his memory had been faulty to some degree.

This one also lunged at the Collector with primal, bestial savagery, but to face the Collector with such simple and predictable movements when it itself was the premiere master of all bestial fighting was simple and utter foolishness.

The Collector cocked back a punch, and its fist began to rattle and vibrate as it channeled the Seismic Shock of the Shaker Fish.

The Collector side stepped the lunge and then slammed the seismic punch into the larger Amorak's back, and the effects were quite exceptional.

Boosted with the Collector's formidable mana reserves, the seismic punch injected an enormous quantity of destructive shockwaves that channeled inside the Amorak, pinging off of its every internal surface in a whirlwind of damage.

The Amorak's body rapidly heated up from the surge of energy growing inside of it, turning a bright, molten orange for an instant before simply exploding into a shower of blood splatters.

The Collector clicked its mandibles, adequately having tested its newfound capabilities to satisfaction. The remaining Amorak, the Collector dispatched with quicker ease and less usage of its mana, simply blitzing through them with high speed flight, tearing out their hearts with its fists and its tendrils.

"The Sovnar…is like god," said one of the champions as they simply stood back and watched the Collector unleash its might. "God of killing."

Thokk smiled as he beheld the Collector's power. "Our god."

A murmur of reverent agreement spread among the swarm.

The Collector ended this minor engagement, taking the corpses of the Amorak it had slaughtered and once more sealing them shut inside of their tomb of ice. This way, they would pose no future threat and pursue the swarm, though eventually, they would break out of it.

"We move again now," said the Collector to the swarm, and they followed.

Goromir came up to the Collector and spoke a suggestion. "O Sovnar, if I may ask, will you not return these Amorak from their affliction? The life you grant can reverse the Undeath, something I have never known to be possible."

"For what purpose?" said the Collector.

"The Amorak are a fierce tribe, but they are long lived. They roamed the icy wastes in my age, and they still do now. I know not how much their ways have changed, but in my time, I knew they were beings of honor.

Blood for blood, blood by blood.

This was their way.

If you save them from their affliction, I hope they will lend us aid in our journey."

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The Collector weighed the elite specimen Goromir's suggestion. Notably, the elite only said it had 'hope' that the Amoraks would aid the Collector, thus it was not an assured guarantee. Yet, the Collector could certainly make it closer to a guarantee.

By reviving the Amoraks, the Collector had their lives in its hand. The Breath of Life functioned by growing regenerative ice crystals from the Collector into specimen, and these crystals formed new body parts and internal functions to sustain the revived specimen.

Which meant that at any given time, the Collector could simply recall the ice crystals into itself or cease to fuel them, causing them to melt and consequently return the Amoraks into true expiration.

The actual cost of the Breath of Life was quite high, approximately twenty percent of the Collector's total mana reserves, but its mana regeneration was such that with pores open for efficient mana gathering, it could regenerate that amount in twenty minutes.

"So be it," said the Collector. The rewards were variable, but the risks for reviving the Amorak were on the lower end.

The Collector used Sapia to bring forth the two snow mounds of crushed Amorak corpses it had created. Each mound was easily the size of a large boulder, but the Collector's Sapia easily levitated them before it. Then, the Collector engaged its Jotnar core, channeling the emotion of Mercy through itself.

Mercy to allow beings to live up to their potential. Their potential to serve and aid the Collector.

The dark blue spiral patterns around the Collector's chest started to glow. Pure blue magical energy swirled around the Collector in shimmering, spiral waves that looked like the currents of flowing water. A marked contrast to the raging, fire like blaze of chaos type mana.

Unity mana was more controlled. More stable. More attuned in balanced flow.

The Collector casted its Breath of Life, opening up its true stomach maw. Its chest split down from the middle, and the flesh and carapace parted to the sides like curtains, revealing a series of rotating sets of teeth and fleshy gums.

From this hideous space in its stomach, the Collector exhaled deeply, loosing a bright white, glinting mist that washed over the two balls of snow. The cloud of white was full of brilliantly glimmering sparks – the shine of ice crystals ready to nourish life.

As the Breath of Life infused into the balls of compacted snow, the Collector used Sapia to shatter them, baring the thirty Amorak specimen trapped within. They were just a mangled pile of half grown limbs, bones, and organs, but as they regenerated, they restored themselves not with the inexplicable restoration of Undeath, but the visible buildup of Breath of Life ice crystals.

The ice crystals formed around the chunks of flesh, bone, and viscera, turning them blue and white as the crystals gathered around each and built upwards, creating new veins, new blood vessels, new muscle fibers, new organs, new hearts, and soon enough, entirely new specimens.

Within a minute, the Amorak had been resurrected.

All thirty of them. Their fur was snow white instead of grey, with the larger specimens having manes of icy, crystalline white. Their once feral, gleaming yellow eyes were now a dark blue. The same color palette as that which the revived goblins possessed.

The Amorak specimen stumbled forwards, many of them collapsing on their knees or struggling to stand for they were unused to their bodies, but they adjusted to their forms far faster than the goblins had done the first time they were brought back.

It was to be predicted. The Amorak, at their base level, were vastly physically superior to the goblins. Thus, they were quicker to adjust to their new bodies.

Most importantly, the Amorak did not exhibit any signs of lost mental faculties inherent to the pathogen known as 'Undeath'.

The Collector spoke to the Amorak, for the shard upon its head allowed it to directly communicate with specimen that possessed higher levels of primal density. Approximately any specimen with primal density above the 30% threshold.

"I have cured you of this 'Undead' pathogen and know that the continuation of your lives are sustained entirely by me. With a single moment, I may undo the formations of life giving ice crystals continuing your existences," said the Collector.

All of the Amoraks in unison went down low, on all their fours, and put their snouts to the snow and their tails down in sign of deference to the Collector.

One of the larger, ice maned Amorak spoke.

"We know," said the Amorak. "When we were caught in the curse, we could still see. We could still feel. But…we just could not control ourselves. Caught in an endless nightmare. There was only darkness and pain and suffering.

Thank you, Sharded One, thank you for freeing us."

"It has been known to me that you repay 'blood for blood' and 'blood by blood'. Render your loyalty to me in exchange for your newfound lives free from this pathogen," said the Collector plainly.

"We would be glad to. But to do so, you must invoke the Blood Rite of Rulership with our Alpha," said the Amorak. "It is simply tradition, but as we stand by tradition, we are willing to die by it. You may ask our pack of anything else, to raid lands with you, to grant you knowledge of this land, or to feast upon our prey, but rulership is not our place to grant."

"Where is this 'Alpha' specimen. I will eliminate it promptly," said the Collector.

"I wish dearly that you do," said the Amorak. "A proper death is far better than what he suffers now."

"The specimen is not with this group," said the Collector. "Lead me to him so that this Rite may be completed with prompt efficiency."

"Are…are you certain? Our Alpha too is under the spell of the Black Curse," said the Amorak.

"Our Sovnar will beat your Alpha to a pulp!" shouted Thokk as he beat his chest. "Undead or not!"

"I must agree," said Goromir, and Kandak grunted in agreement.

"I have no doubts. The Sharded One is mightier than any I have seen," said the Amorak. "But this is different. Our Alpha lies within a black spot. Facing him…may be more difficult than expected. I will not protest, however.

A chance to free our Alpha from his accursed fate is one I will not let slip by.

Come, then, follow me. I will lead you to him."

The Collector and the goblin swarm followed the Amoraks for an hour, reaching quite nearly to the base of the Rift mountain range. They went deeper into the fall of Grain, so the Collector was less hesitant to spend time on this endeavor for their movements would not be tracked or sensed here.

Here, the Amorak stopped around a yawning pit formed in the snow. One completely enshrouded in curling tendrils of foggy darkness, making any visibility below completely impossible.

The pit was large, around twenty meters across, and from it, wispy black air emerged, and this, the Collector could sense was likely the main mode of transmission of the Undead pathogen.

This was further evident by the body language of the Amoraks. They crowded away from the pit, their tails curled between their legs in fear as they beheld the put from a distance.

In the distance, through the heavy fall of Grain, the Collector could perceive the towering spires of the Rift mountains that stood taller than any cloud.

Its next goal was near.

"When this pit opened up first," said the maned Amorak. "We thought it to be a Dungeon. Our Alpha went in to challenge it, to gain power for us, but soon after his entry, the foul black curse choked this pit.

A few of us more foolish were willing to leap into the pit to retrieve our Alpha, believing that if we did not spend much time within, the black curse would not take root in us.

We were wrong.

Our Alpha did not return. But those that went to search, myself included, did. We savaged our own and made them join our endless nightmare. Thank the winds that we did not reach our dens where the young are."

"You want our Sovnar to leap in here? To duel your Alpha?" said Goromir. His arms were crossed, and his brows furrowed. "He has already saved your lives, and yet you wish him to risk his own for this? I thought this would be a simple duel, not a rescue operation for a wayward, overconfident pup."

The Amorak bared its teeth, but did not snarl, controlling its emotions. "I understand. But we simply cannot follow another Alpha when our own still lives."

"Lives!?" Goromir pointed all four arms down to the pit. "You call being trapped in there living? Cut your losses and move on. Join our service for something better than this."

"Tradition is our way." The Amorak bowed his head. "If it means you must kill us all, then so be it."

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"I have spent enough time tearing your kind apart limb from limb," said the Collector. "Your species has proven to be a formidable force to harness, and if securing this 'Alpha' specimen's death is what you so desire, then I first require additional information."

The Collector floated above the pit of solid darkness, attempting to pierce through it with its senses. The pit was almost impenetrable to a nearly unnatural degree, not visible through sight, emitting no auditory signals, nor being perceptible to tactile sense.

Magical sense, too, yielded little to no true benefit.

"You have stated that you have entered this area before. Is it within your memory to recall the exact physical dimensions of this space?" asked the Collector to the maned Amorak.

"I remember a little. It was not deep. A large drop of several seconds, then a great expanse of darkness. That is all I recall, for the darkness makes my memories hazy," said the Amorak.

The Collector clicked its mandibles before it bared its stomach maw towards the pit. It then ejected forth a burst of its pyrocatalytic gland flames, shooting forth a swelling torrent of blue-white flame that funneled into the pit of darkness.

Simultaneously, the Collector clenched one of its fists, enveloping the flames in purple Sapian aura.

The flames passed through the darkness but did not affect it any. The intense light did not drive away any of the shadows, simply phasing through the dark as if it was a fixture in space.

Yet, unmistakably, the flames had passed through.

The Collector utilized the Sapia-wreathed flames like a scout, moving them around to figure out the dimensions below, and determined that the Sapia fell down exactly a dozen meters and could fan out in circular pattern before hitting walls.

From the rate of travel of the flames and the time it took to crash against the walls, the Collector calculated the distance of the area beneath the fall to be roughly circular and twenty meters in diameter with a low ceiling of five meters.

In essence, the pit was structured like a funnel, the initial drop leading into a wider and self-contained base.

Within this area, the Collector's flames also found a singular target, and this, the Collector hypothesized to be the Alpha. However, the Collector's Sapia over the flames deteriorated rapidly within the pit, the magical connections and flow severing and breaking apart.

It was not like Grain that simply insulated and prevented the expression of magical energy outwards from those with too little primal energy. In the case of Grain, beings could still use their internal mana to reinforce their body, for there was no stopping them from flowing mana within themselves.

Thus, a tinkerer that relied on reinforcing their body could survive in areas of heavy Grainfall.

This, however, was a complete nullification of any and all magical energy flow. Spirit roots and cores would not be damaged, but they would be forced dormant, unable to channel any amount of magical energy.

No tinkerer could ever survive here, reduced to their basic, physically feeble states as they would be.

But the Collector was simply built different.

"I will proceed," said the Collector. It analyzed the environment it would enter, planned a course of action, and determined its success rate to near 99% provided the Alpha specimen was approximately as strong as the maned Amorak considering the Alpha would not be able to use mana to strengthen itself at all.

"Sovnar! This…this pit reeks of undeath," said Goromir. "Are you certain?"

"Weren't you the one who said to believe in the Sovnar?" Thokk spoke up. "Believe."

"Yes. Yes, you are right," said Goromir as he nodded to Thokk.

"There are no objections, then," said the Collector as it hovered over the void of darkness.

"If you bring the Alpha back, end his life, we will serve you with our lives, our blood, and more." The maned Amorak bared its claws and dug them into its forearm, splitting an artery and drawing out a stream of blood.

The Amorak spattered the blood on the ground. "By my blood, I swear it, and a blood oath is sacred to us."

"By my blood, I swear," came a collection of chants from the remaining twenty-nine Amorak as they clawed their forearms and spilled their blood in a ritualistic gesture.

Then, the Amorak closed their fists and flexed their arms, forcing the muscles to squeeze the cuts tight. They also possessed a natural healing factor that repaired their severed veins in quick order. A cost-efficient, constant healing factor that did not require any magical energy, but in return, was slower and less explosive than the draconid's regeneration.

"I see that these symbolistic gestures affirm your loyalty. Agreeable. I will note them for further interaction with your kind." The Collector then dove into the darkness like a red bullet, disappearing in an instant of surging aura and squalls of wind.

Passing the barrier of darkness caused the Collector to initially enter what it thought was a biome of water. There was darkness everywhere, similar to the darkness caused by an absence of light in abyssal zones of vast aquatic habitats, and there was a certain liquid heaviness and resistance everywhere reminiscent of water pressure.

However, the Collector found no difficulty with oxygen respiration, though it did not need it to function. In a tenth of a second, the Collector landed on the base of the pit, its feet sinking into solid, firm ground reminiscent of stone.

When the Collector landed, its magic completely disappeared.

It had no more access to its multiple mana affinities and the vast variety of powers and physical enhancements they granted. All of its magical weapons systems were completely disabled, completely neutralizing a host of powers that would have comprised a sizable list.

Truly, the Collector noted with clicked mandibles, this area would be completely inhospitable to the vast majority of any creature upon this planet.

No mana. No magic. No power.

But to the Collector?

This was simply functioning as normal. As it had functioned prior to entering this world and taking magic for its own.

This marked the difference between the Collector and much of the life on this world.

Even without magic, the cold fact did not change that the Collector was an apex predator bred with the deadliest adaptations known throughout its galaxy.

Mana or no mana, the Collector was still a killer.

A deadly killer.

The Collector's visual systems were utterly useless here as a pure absence of light meant no wavelengths with which to perceive, but its sensitive hairs accurately mapped out its immediate surroundings, and it perceived a large form barreling towards it.

Auditory signals were distorted in this area, and the Alpha's paws as it tracked across the firm ground loosed out crackling buzzes instead of a typical click of weight and claws upon stone.

The Alpha was still on fire from the Collector's pyrocatalytic glands, and the heat it emanated allowed the Collector to further map its movements with precision, utilizing its thermal sensitive capabilities and hairs.

The Collector unsheathed its monomolecular blades fully for its purifying light blades lost their light and efficacy here. The Alpha leaped upon the Collector, its form sizable at four meters in length, but its strength was severely stunted by a lack of mana.

The Collector utilized its three pliomatter tendrils to slam them from above in the Alpha's head, disorienting it and crashing it into the ground. The Alpha's large body skidded several meters past the Collector, and the Collector reacted quickly.

It used its muscular coilboosters to dash a short distance in a near instant, ending up in front of the downed Alpha before it could defend itself or even stand. The Alpha's head severed off of its body, cut clean by the monomolecular blades.

However, if it was affected by pathogen known as Undeath, then it was likely that the specimen would not perish from that wound alone.

The Collector grabbed the Alpha's headless body and turned it over with ease, its immense muscular strength toppling the one and a half ton body like a sheet of paper.

With surgical precision, the Collector used its monomolecular blade to carve into the Alpha's chest, and then tore out its heart. All regeneration caused by this Undead pathogen seemed to center around the core, so taking it would disable the specimen for the immediate moment.

Before the Alpha specimen could fully begin to regenerate around the core, the Collector leaped into the air, boosting its jump with coilboosters, and scaled the dozen meters to the top with ease.

The Collector passed through the veil of darkness and into the snowy, frigid, and open air of Fjall, and here, its magic returned with a vengeance, huge swirls of red magical energy crackling around it as it hovered again in the air, this time with the Alpha's blackened, beating heart in one of its hands.

"Here is your Alpha specimen," stated the Collector as it tossed the large, pumping heart onto the snow before, the Amoraks.

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The Amoraks scrambled back at the sight of the black heart, at its grotesque, rapid beating. Already, flesh was beginning to wrap around the heart due to the regeneration provided by the condition known as 'Undeath'.

It was not that the Amoraks were unused to the sight of viscera, for they were wild specimens that likely ate their prey raw and live, but more that they were instinctively repulsed by the presence of the blackened heart.

The Collector, too could feel this to a degree. The parts of its body that were enriched and relied upon magical energy instinctively classified any Undead presence as a threat which made sense in that the origin of this pathogen seemed to nullify any magic, not to mention the capacity for its spread.

Layers and layers of flesh and blood vessels perfectly reconstructing themselves around the heart, and as the Collector observed for an additional second, it began to make note of a crucial fact from analyzing how the other Amorak specimens, when they too were infected, restored their bodies.

It was not due to simple cellular regeneration, elsewise their regenerative patterns would have all been the same.

Rather, it appeared that Undead specimen regenerated in a way akin to reversing time. Their body parts restored themselves in the order they were destroyed, with the only exception being the case that their core, their heart, was directly removed.

In this case, the Collector noted, the rest of the body would deteriorate and disintegrate while a new form was created around the core.

The significance of this, the Collector could not adequately glean yet, only merely note, but it did understand that this was the first instance of temporal-spatial manipulation outside of Warp Gates that it had observed.

Regardless, the Collector could not simply allow the Alpha's infected core to simply regenerate again. Instead, it activated a lower charge of its Breath of Life, utilizing only 10% of its total mana, funneling out a thin, steady stream of misty white fog from its maw that collected directly into the beating black heart.

The white mist slowly but surely drove the blackness from the heart's flesh, painting it over instead with a pale, icy white that then turned a deep blue. Crystalline structures began to form all around the heart, embedding in the flesh and glimmering under any exposure to light, granting the heart a nearly prismatic quality about it.

The Collector initially found it difficult to optimize the Breath of Life due to how much energy it took to channel, but now that it had utilized it several times, it could begin to regulate its output, though it seemed that even to fully restore a being from the Undeath pathogen via directly targeting their core, it would still take 10% of its max mana.

The purified heart regenerated its flesh more organically now, with cluster growths of ice crystals sprouting out from it spurring the generation of blood vessels, then flesh, then bones, and so on until the Alpha stood once more in its original state.

The Alpha, white-furred and blue maned, was distinctively more imposing than any of the other Amoraks, likely possessing mutations for both increased magical energy output and muscular hypertrophy.

At four meters tall, the Alpha towered over every single being in the immediate vicinity, being a head taller even than Kandak with his Grizzled Stormbear and Bugbrute genes granting him increased muscular mass and size.

The Alpha's fur also constantly fluxed with magical energy, granting it an almost flame-like flickering texture.

It no doubt had been the premiere of their species, possessing a host of battle scars running under its fur that showcased the many battles it had undergone both among its own kind and among others in defense of its pack.

The Collector, from its battles with the Amoraks, had a good grasp of their abilities.

They possessed extraordinarily sharps senses, particularly regarding scent which allowed them to fight even with their ocular systems destroyed, and they were primarily physical fighters, relying on speed and strength.

Their magical energy was utilized solely to boost their physical might, though they did have one unique application of it.

By overloading their hearts with an initial deposit of magical energy, they were capable of manipulating their heart beat, blood flow, and consequently their mana flow to vastly enhance their physical movements, though this would over time tax their cardiovascular health and lead to heavier bleeding.

Had the Alpha not been in the depths of the pit with its own magical energy limited, then it could have exhibited a marvelous display of physical might that the Collector could have enjoyed, though not much.

The Collector had simply grown too strong to encounter any real threats below the Rift.

Numerically speaking, if the Collector had to roughly evaluate the beings around it in mana output and physical strength, it determined that the average goblin champion was a 10 and the twin elites a 50, with Thokk hovering at 35.

This was, of course, vastly better than how they were unenhanced by Breath of Life, for before then, they might as well not have been registered on this numerical scale.

The average Amorak specimen ranged from 20-30 with maned specimens reaching 50 and the Alpha specimen at 100. The average draconid ranged from 60 to 80.

The Collector, in this scale, would be at a 600. The golden winged humanoid at a 400.

All rough estimates, of course, and pure physical power and raw mana output did not even comprise 50% of a specimen's true combat capability where factors such as skill, experience, instinct, equipment, and compatibility had to be considered.

The golden winged humanoid with its weaponry could easily cut swathes through dozens of Amorak alphas even though from a purely numerical standpoint, four Alphas had the same level of total mana and strength.

The Collector, too, if it entered its giant form, could easily spike up to over 1000, because it would massively increase its strength and mana output, but that would not account for it becoming a massively larger target with compromised agility of movement and stealth capacities.

Combat was complicated. Raw numbers did it no justice.

Regardless, a reflection on combative comparisons was secondary to addressing the current situation.

The Collector noted as the sizable Alpha laid down low on all fours, its tail curled between its legs in sign of pure submission. It bowed down its head, baring its neck.

"Thank you for freeing me," said the Alpha. "And now, you must kill me or exile me, for I have fallen in the Rite. Take of me my wives and the children too, if you so desire."

"I shall not expend time rearing the offspring of weak specimen," said the Collector plainly. "From my observation, your kind uphold greatly to this notion of 'tradition'. Thus, I shall assume that there is no other option than your death or exile.

You are, however, a capable specimen of considerable strength. The terms of this exile, explain them to me."

"I lose the rights to the females and rearing the children," said the Alpha. "I must leave the pack

"Simple terms. Room for additional circumstance and manipulation of them, then," said the Collector. "All of you are now collected to some degree to me and the rest of the swarm by the Breath of Life. You will know the general directions of where my carrier units are regardless of whether you are the same species or not."

The Collector gestured to the rest of the Amorak pack. "You now recognize me as the 'Alpha' specimen, yes?"

"There is no question," said the Amoraks.

"Then you will take your pack and travel to the carrier unit below this Rift and reinforce his forces," said the Collector. For now that the Undead threat was here and the tinkering presence soon to intensify, Thragg and his conquering force would require more military assistance.

"As for you, the Alpha specimen," said the Collector. "You shall be exiled. If exile necessitates merely that you are geographically separate from your pack, then it will be done. You will cross the Rift and assist me, for your strength to be squandered is a waste of efficiency."

The Collector gazed at the Amorak pack and clicked its mandibles. "Are there objections to this course of action?"

The Amoraks looked among themselves, then to the old Alpha, wondering whether exile accounted for the Alpha traveling with the Collector who technically was the new Alpha and part of the pack.

"Remember that I may end your lives in a mere instant," said the Collector. "I understand that tradition is a value that you believe throwing your lives away for. Yet, shall you throw away your lives for a 'tradition' that is merely not followed to exact specifications?

Wage the cost and benefits to your decisions well, for without your assistance, the young you no doubt rear will all perish, and I possess no obligation to preserve them."

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This was the final push that allowed the Amoraks to agree with the Collector, and they all uttered low, non-threatening growls in affirmation.

The Collector, with the white shard atop its head, could understand their words, for the Amorak possessed sufficient primal density above the twenty percent threshold that allowed the Collector to easily communicate with them and even seemingly exert an influence upon them.

It seemed that any creatures that had sufficient primal density understood somewhat the nature of the shard upon the Collector and granted it deference, though deference was not the same as obeyance.

For now, however, the Collector determined that the Amorak were sufficiently beholden to the Collector, though not to the same degree as the goblins were because the Collector could not exert Higher Calling upon them.

Thus, the Collector still kept the option of immediately taking back the Breath of Life reanimation it had granted them at a moment's notice if it found that their loyalty was faulty.

"The carrier unit and the elite specimen know the approximate location of where the conquering force will be," said the Collector to the Amorak pack. "Now that you possess stamina that can consistently be replenished, your travel speed should be considerable enough to reach them in two days worth of travel."

The Collector mentally projected its command to the three elites, and they stepped forwards to the Amoraks.

"Inform them of the conquering force's movements. Have this pack convene with the conquering force at the location of the Frostfish goblin tribe whilst taking an arcing path from northwest to south for optimal and extended coverage under Grain so as to prevent tinkering interferences," said the Collector.

The elites were privy to the general movement patterns and future battle plans that the Collector had formulated, so they were more than capable of enlightening the Amorak pack of what to do and where to go.

"And you, great Sovnar?" said Goromir. "What will you do in the meantime?"

The Collector focused ahead, northwards, where 500 kilometers ahead, the great mountains of the Rift arose. They were covered by Grain, but their size was so prodigious that they showed even from this distance.

This was the next great obstacle for the Collector challenge.

"I will scout ahead," said the Collector simply as it began to hover in the air. Red mana particulates started to flicker around it as wind and snow swirled beneath it as it generated power. Then, its twin wings of crimson energy flared to its sides, and it was gone, shooting into the distance at such a speed that within moments, it was a fading blur in the distance.

"That's our Sovnar!" said Thokk to the Amorak as he pointed a finger to where the Collector had flown. "Strong and fast. Don't know why you challenge him, heh."

=Conquering Force=

Thragg and his fourteen champions trekked their way across Fjall in a march of resolute determination. Though they could still eat and hunger, they could go without food and drink for days and days, perhaps a week, perhaps even forever, so long as the Sovnar kept them alive with his magical energy.

At first, Thragg had wanted to use this and marched them force without any stops, but complaints had forced him to reconsider.

Thragg had the will and commitment to cast away his physical desires and push forward, but the others were not the same.

It had always been like this, though.

Even before the Sovnar had ascended the tribe, Thragg had been different.

He was among the few goblin young that took the time to listen to the elder's rambling stories, picking up moments of excitement and wonder in the sea of memories the elder had committed to himself.

He was perhaps the only one aside from Hrunt, the next in line to be elder, to have greatly respected the elder even with his frailty and weakness.

For the elder represented the beyond.

Always, Thragg had wanted to be more than what he was. He heard the elder's stories about goblin kingdoms and old ages and champions and elites and lords and kings and heroes, and he wanted to be that. He did not want to spend his entire life hiding and scavenging.

Thragg's mind was simpler back then, but even then, he knew this. He had not been able to conceptualize it as well, but when he went on hunts with the hobs, when he fought for meat, when he hid from monsters and adventurers, he had always thought: why was he doing this?

What was the point of living like this?

To eat, sleep, have a child or two, then grow old and die?

Was that it?

That was why Thragg had been resolutely determined to kill the champion of the tribe at the time, training and honing his skills, and once he had the tribe under his control, he would try his best to be like the goblins the elder spoke of in yore, rallying a large force of other goblins.

Back then, Thragg had thought maybe he had desired power. Power over many goblins. Power to raid humans.

But that was not it.

It was now that Thragg realized that the question he asked himself had shifted to this: who would remember him?

Thragg wanted to be remembered, and he wanted to be remembered far and wide not because of a sense of pride, though that might have factored into it, but because of a sense of purpose. He was given life, now a second one, and what was the point of life if there was not a great purpose to fulfill?

A great purpose that all would remember Thragg for?

This was what Thragg wanted when he thought about being more than he was. He wanted to be remembered. For future generations of elders to speak of him as one who had changed the course of history and made his mark upon the whole vast wide world.

That was why Thragg had respected the elder so. The elder had the beyond within him, in his mind where he kept the memories of eras and goblins past far beyond the rotting of their corpses.

The Sovnar had given Thragg a new life, a new purpose, and thus, a new chance to be remembered.

Thragg would not waste it.

Still, that did not mean the other goblins had the same level of conviction as Thragg. They were loyal to the Sovnar, yes, but their wills varied in strength.

At the least, it was easy enough to hunt for food now, and Thragg used the same method the Sovnar did before he had granted Thragg his flames.

Using the flames Thragg could generate, he lured in Snow Sprites, and the Snow Sprites lured in animals that looked for shelter from the cold. He regulated the output of the flames so that it would not attract too many Snow Sprites so that humans would not appear, for the Sovnar was absolutely clear that no interaction with humans should be made.

Even so, Thragg did not coddle them. He pushed them as much as he could, and in good pace, he made it back to the Snowmound that they had first met the Sovnar at.

There was no winter storm this time, but it was around the same time.

Afternoon. A few hours before the sun set and the Shadows became a danger.

The fateful time when the Sovnar had appeared with overwhelming might and slaughtered their champion in an instant.

When Thragg had seen that happen, when he was one of the hobgoblins standing in circle around the Sovnar and the champion, he had felt awe.

Awe beyond measure.

Once, Thragg had thought the elder the greatest symbol of the beyond, but no, that had not been it. His world view had simply been too small.

The Sovnar represented the beyond far, far better.

The Sovnar was light. Overwhelming might. And, as Thragg could sense, a bearer of great purpose, his every single move and action driven towards a singular goal, a purpose invested into him that he fulfilled absolutely.

That was the kind of purpose that Thragg had always desired. And, as Thragg heard more of the Great Purpose, of how it was meant to stand against the eternal dark that threatened the entire world, he knew that it was a purpose he was proud to devote himself to.

For what better way to be remembered than to stave off a dark to end all things? If it would mean giving his life to the purpose to save this world, to carve the memory of his noble sacrifice to all, to never truly die and fade away in memory, he would gladly give up his life.

The Snowmound, as expected, was occupied.

Thragg could trace the scent of goblins. This was no surprise. The Frostskull tribe that Thragg belonged to had taken the mount from the Frostfish tribe, and with their absence, the Frostfish tribe had taken it back.

But that was back during the time of petty tribal quarrels.

It was now time for the Frostfish tribe to join the Sovnar in Great Purpose beyond themselves.

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Thragg turned down his aura of flames and stepped up to the Snowmound. He raised one of his webbed hands up to gesture for the fifteen goblins behind him to stay behind him.

"Thragg, do you intend to use the Sovnar's voice to bend them to us? Or will you duel their champion?" said the elder.

"I will do what I must," said Thragg. "But I know how our kind is. We respond best to force. I will put fear in them, then soon that fear will turn to loyalty."

"Ah, to think that we are now the ones to conquer the Frostfish tribe," said the elder. He tugged at his long, icy beard as he looked into the distance at the Snowmound. "When before, when we were simpler and smaller, the Frostfish goblins were the ones that drove us away.

Taking lake Aska and the fish for themselves, leaving us to scavenge in the cold wastes with only this Snowmound as our refuge."

"They took our Snowmound too," said one of the champions. "We take it back."

"Remember one of them. Made my ear hurt and bleed. Now I never hear from it," said another.

The Frostskull tribe and the Frostfish tribe had a conflict ridden history, and Thragg knew it well. Unlike Thokk, Thragg had lived enough years to know the various goblin tribes, and the Frostskulls were not even close to the strongest.

Not that power mattered much now. Thragg was confident in that regard he alone could defeat the entire Frostfish tribe with utter ease.

But in an environment where might made right, it was a simple fact of life that the other goblin tribes had long forced the Frostskulls to the fringe.

When the goblin lord had called, the Frostskulls were the only tribe to join because they were simply desperate to expand out, for in time, they would dwindle and waste away after being driven away from the lake and more temperate, prey-laden areas.

Yet past conflict could not color this conquest.

"We must put aside our pasts," said Thragg. "All of us are more evolved and stronger than we ever were. The life we had is one we no longer live now. What happened then is beneath us.

And when we take in the Frost tribes, they will become our own. We must tolerate them."

The champions grunted in understanding, and Thragg took this as a sign to advance forwards.

When Thragg reached close enough to the Snowmound, hobgoblin scouts around it spotted him and pointed at him, leaping up and down and shouting.

"Monster! Monster!" shouted the hobgoblins, and soon, a whole host of them piled out of the Snowmound's entrance.

Thragg beheld the Frostfish goblins. They had large barrel chests and blocky stomachs meant for holding in deep breaths, for they had adapted to swimming into the depths of lake Aska for food. They also had the ability to take in great breaths and unleash them in concussive, mana charged blasts.

There were fifty Frostfish goblins in total that swarmed out. Many of them had roughly carved Everfrost weapons in their hand, likely from Everfrost shards that broke off from underwater caverns in the lake and floated to the top.

There were probably a hundred fifty more in lake Aska, with these goblins simply being a hunting party.

"I am no monster. I am one of you," said Thragg as he spoke in their tongue. "You are hunting, no? Instead of fishing. That means you are seeking red meat to honor a new champion."

The hobgoblins tentatively looked at Thragg, knowing his power, and fearful of the new form the Sovnar had granted him. They gazed at his thickly muscled, yellow striped eel tail, at the golden fins lining his back and limbs, and the fiery red frilled tendrils that hung down from his back.

"What tribe you from?" said a larger goblin as he shifted forward to the head of the crowd. A champion, judging by his size, and wielding a club of Everfrost almost as large as he was.

"I am from the Frostskulls," said Thragg.

A laugh rose among the fifty hobgoblins.

"Frostskull? Your tribe supposed to be dead! We kicked you out of lake and then you all disappeared! Thought monster ate you. What you want now, huh? Food? We don't give it," said the champion, grinning with his tusks out.

The champion narrowed his yellow eyes and stared at Thragg, then at the fourteen champions and elder behind him.

The champion's attitude became much more somber. Serious. He understood that they were vastly outmatched.

"What happen to you? You have four arms. So many champions. Did the lord do this?" said the champion.

"We do not want food, Thur" said Thragg, remembering this champion's name. "And no lord did this. It was the greatness of the Sovnar that ascended us."

"…Sovnar?" said Thur with confusion.

"You will come to understand." Thragg took another step forwards, and the hobgoblin crowd tensed up, raising their weapons. "I am here to take the Frostfish tribe into our own. We can do it the traditional way, with us slaughtering most of your tribe and forcing the rest in, or we can make it much easier, with all of you willingly coming with us.

I can guarantee that we will treat you well, for that is the Sovnar's will."

Thragg had been vested with some of the Sovnar's voice, but it was not so strong that he could bend them all to his will with a mere word. He required them to willingly submit to him first before his voice could truly reach them.

"You will take this tribe from me only if you kill me," said Thur. "And we have two more champions. We can fight."

"Three champions against fourteen?" Thragg shook his head. "You are not that stupid, are you? The math does not work toward your favor."

"Don't matter. My tribe." Thur said this simply, willing to die before he gave up his power.

"Bring forth your elder. He will recognize my form, and he will know that I bring to you greatness akin to the Old Age," said Thragg.

"No elder. I killed him," said Thur. "

"What?" Thragg's deep blue eyes narrowed.

"Elder was tiny and weak. Why keep him around? Useless. So I killed him. We have lake, anyway, and with lake, we don't need elder to tell us where to go. What to do."

"Your elder was the only one among you who knew anything beyond the miserable lives you led," said Thragg. "So many memories and stories just lost like that. All because of one stupid champion that believes himself lord of a little lake."

Thragg shook his head and stepped up. "Come on, then, Thur. Fight me. Show me the strength you believe gave you the right to kill your elder."

Thur hesitated, obviously knowing that Thragg would obliterate him, but his tribe was behind him, and his pride and power was at stake.

"Fight me!" roared Thragg as his magical energy explosively radiated out in yellow streaks.

Thur gripped his club tight and charged with a growl. His muscular body trudged bulldozed through the snow as he leaped into the air, ready to slam the club down on Thragg's head.

Thragg raised one of his arms up and caught the club in his palm. The club strike was true and made with the entirety of Thur's might, but it might as well have been as effective as a summer breeze.

Thragg jerked his arm to the side, easily overpowering Thur and tearing the club off of his grip.

Thragg tossed the club away and stood right in front of Thur, looking down at the champion with nothing but disappointment.

"Concede your tribe," said Thragg. "They are wasted under your command. They have the potential to be so much more, but your simple-minded foolishness-,"

Thur punched Thragg in the face while he was talking, but the full force punch only made Thragg's head tilt back a few centimeters at best.

In response, Thragg slammed a palm into Thur, sending the champion skidding a dozen meters through the snow, groaning painfully.

"Get up," said Thragg as he walked up to Thur. Every step Thragg took, the hobgoblins of the Frostfish tribe stepped back in fear and awe.

Thragg looked down at Thur's pain-wracked body as the champion sucked in deep breaths, recovering the air that had been squarely knocked out of him from Thragg's casual blow.

"Get up," said Thragg.

Thur managed to get on to a knee, then raise himself up with shaky motions. The moment the champion got onto two feet, Thragg slammed a palm into him again, sending him flying once more, this time into a group of hobgoblins.

Thur's great weight and size sent the hobgoblins he crashed into falling, and the hobgoblins shrieked as they scrambled away from Thragg's advance. Thur coughed as he lay limp on the snow, multiple ribs shattered by now with all the fight solidly beaten out of him.

Thragg stood over Thur again. "So this is it? This is your power? Your strength? This is what you were proud of? This is the might that made you think you were somehow better than your elder?"

"Enough, Thragg," came the elder's voice as he stepped to Thragg's side, putting a wrinkled hand on the elite's shoulder. "Too much fear will only break them."

"You are right, elder. I got carried away. But at the least, I may use this fear to make them submit." Thragg raised his voice, and it reverberated like the Sovnar's. "I have won over your champion. Your tribe holds two more, but there is no point in struggling further against me.

You will only lose your lives. Join us, and we will guarantee you will be treated right, provided for, and made stronger with bodies like ours."

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