Ch 3: The First Piece

"Hmm... that must have been Biomass I felt leaving my body," he mused, a contemplative look on his face.

[» Positive «]

"And I can use this Biomass to facilitate modifications and evolutions," he thought. He didn't need to dwell on the meaning of "evolutions"—it was straightforward enough to understand.

"Are there any modifications I can make right now?" he asked, though he quickly dismissed the idea. It was simply too early. He had only been alive for a few days; he didn't expect to be capable of evolving this soon.

[» Available Modification: Bioluminescence «]

He froze at the response, processing the information. How had he acquired this modification in the first place? Then it clicked—he had been eating glowing rodents for the past few days.

"Wait… does that mean I can acquire traits from anything I eat?" he thought, a thrill of excitement bubbling up inside him.

[» Positive «]

"Okay, that's cool," he thought, standing still for a moment as he pondered the potential of his racial ability. But there was one more question he needed to ask.

"This strange hole here... it breeds my forces, right?" he asked.

[» Positive «]

"It uses Biomass, but how does it work? How do I use it?" He focused his gaze on the pulsating veins of the organic structure, trying to tap into his instincts—the same instincts that always seemed to guide him.

Yet, nothing happened. He could only wait for the voice to respond. Surprisingly, it took a while before the answer came.

[» Use of Hatchery: With the use of a personal DNA template and excess Biomaterials, new life forms can be created. Such life forms exist solely to serve the Monster King and are assigned roles upon birth. Different traits can be specified, including capabilities, shape, and form, though restricted to the available genetic example «]

"Hmm..." He lay down, taking time to digest the information. He pondered for a while, already gaining clarity on his next steps.

If he wanted to create soldiers or minions, they had to come from something he already possessed—or at the very least, something he had successfully mimicked.

That meant if he wanted fighters, he had to focus on the aspects of himself that made him formidable in combat. If he wanted hunters, he had to emphasize the traits that made him an effective predator. Workers, defenders, and other roles followed the same principle.

The best part was that he could create combatants tailored to specific problems—or even specific opponents—as long as he understood their primary weaknesses.

But those thoughts were for later. Right now, it was time to raise the first of his forces.

Standing to his feet, he approached the pulsating hole, its diameter spanning five meters. As he neared, the rhythm of its veins and vessels quickened, almost as if responding to his presence—awaiting his command. He focused intently, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the pool of crimson.

First, he formed a clear mental image of what he wanted. He pictured himself, but instinctively, he knew he wouldn't be able to create an exact replica. Something within him was limited.

"Perhaps insufficient Biomass," he mused before shrugging off the thought. This was just an experiment; he had no intention of making a copy of himself.

Instead, he envisioned a smaller version—slimmer, built for high-speed combat and movement. An ideal hunter.

Next, he considered its weaponry. Apart from agility, a good hunter needed the means to take down prey efficiently.

"Big, sharp teeth. Longer, curved claws," he focused, refining the mental image. Gradually, the vision solidified.

He adjusted a few details, imagining its body encased in a dense layer of spikes—designed for both offense and defense. A creature that was a living weapon.

With the image now firmly established in his mind, he turned his focus to the pool. In an instant, instinct took over—his senses merging with the pulsating mass as if it were a living entity.

He could feel every beat, every surge of blood-like flow, resonating deep within him. As their connection grew, the pool seemed to understand his desire, mirroring his intent with a quiet, sentient acknowledgment.

Then, the same suction he had felt before was accompanied by a mysterious dark mist that began seeping from his body into the pool. Gradually, the mental images in his mind sharpened, and he watched in awe as real-time changes unfolded. "Is it correcting my error?" he wondered, as the life form he envisioned solidified further with each passing moment.

Abruptly, the connection snapped shut, severing the link and returning his consciousness to normal. Shaken and slightly disoriented, he refocused on the pool only to see it bubbling furiously—its red hue deepening into a richer, more profound crimson.

The overwhelming scent of iron filled the air, while the veins and vessels pulsed with renewed vigor, pumping life into the creation that was taking shape before him.

Minutes passed, and the intensity of the scene continued to build. He couldn't help but stare into the mesmerizing red, anticipation giving way to a frown as the surreal creation unfolded—the night seamlessly shifting into day.

He marveled at the detection, questioning how he could determine whether it was day or night, but before he could seek answers from his guide, the intensity halted abruptly, and a profound silence beckoned.

"Show yourself," he declared mentally, his words punctuated by a defiant snort, as he sensed a new mind being born from the mysterious power of the pool.

In response to his command, an arm emerged from the depths, gripping the edges before pulling itself free. Moments later, its head broke the surface, and he observed that it looked nothing like him; in fact, it scarcely resembled him at all.

This discrepancy was entirely understandable—he had deliberately optimized its design for offensive prowess rather than a balanced form. Within mere breaths and measured steps, the creature fully emerged from the pool, each movement deliberate and fluid as if crafted solely for battle.

He examined the being intently, noting the drooping spines and jagged spikes along its body. Although they appeared soft at first, he suspected they would harden with time, so he paid them little heed. Instead, he fixed his unwavering gaze on the figure, which stood at only 1.5 meters—considerably smaller than his nearly four-meter stature.

Under the weight of his intense scrutiny, the creature eventually yielded, bowing its head in deference. A dismissive snort escaped him, a subtle acknowledgment of his own superiority.

[Image]

"'When you're at your best, hunt,'" he transmitted mentally, and he could feel the message resonate within the creature's instincts. Having confirmed the method by which he would create his forces, he resolved to return to the cavern's largest cave. A slight drain tugged at his energy—a sensation unfamiliar yet intriguing.

Returning to his personal quarters, he collapsed onto the ground, overcome by a languid fatigue. Closing his eyes, he suddenly sensed an unfamiliar yet intriguing connection—one that, though initially disorienting, he quickly adapted to.

Focusing intently, he confirmed his suspicion: it was something akin to a hive mind. As his concentration deepened, mental images and sensations began to flow directly into his consciousness, each detail as vivid as if he were experiencing them firsthand.

Intrigued, he noted that as its body dried, the once-drooping spikes hardened into formidable armor. The creature sprang to life immediately, but before it could proceed far, he issued a clear command: "Halt." In an instant, it froze.

Only when he later commanded it to resume did it venture once more into the winding tunnels. A spark of excitement flickered within him—here was tangible proof that his monstrous minions could serve as extensions of his will.

Shifting his attention, he recalled an earlier directive emblazoned in his mind 'Conquer the World'. Though he grasped its general intent, he craved a precise explanation. "What does it mean to conquer the world?" he asked directly of the guide.

[» Directive – Conquer the World: Bring the world and its species under your rule. As a favor bestowed by Mother Nature, the Monster King is the rightful heir to the world. Any force that resists, in any shape or form, is permitted to be eliminated. «]

He swallowed hard at the revelation. Despite having anticipated such ruthlessness, he had secretly hoped for a gentler path. "Can't I simply choose not to act on it?" he mused internally. The guide's response, however, resonated with unexpected irritation:

[» Negative: As the Monster King, conquering the world is an instinctive trait. Resisting will only lead to an even greater outburst and loss of control. «]

A pause followed as he wrestled with the gravity of these words, his thoughts swirling with emotions that defied simple categorization.

Determined to test the directive's veracity, he honed in on a single, visceral thought—the act of killing; the image of crushing humans between his teeth, of tearing them apart with his claws. Instead of the expected revulsion, he felt a surge of empowerment and fierce resolve.

He was certain that the human race would inevitably resist, and should they do so, they would be met with his overwhelming, crushing might. His pupils flashed coldly as the instinct to dominate took firm root, affirming the path laid out before him.

----

(Drop those powerstones if you think it's well deserved )