He sat in the blue light of his hovel, a Lvl 5 goblin, feeling positively god-like. His 7 Strength made his small, wiry muscles feel dense. His 9 Agility made him feel quick and balanced. His 12 Perception and 16 Intelligence made the dark, dank cave feel less like a tomb and more like a puzzle box he was finally starting to solve.
And he was hungry. The [Glow-Cap Spore-Cluster] had been nutritious, but it was more medicine than meal. His 9 Stamina, while high, still needed fuel.
He looked at the entrance to the crawlspace.
"Roaches," he muttered, his reedy voice full of newfound confidence. "The roaches nests."
He wasn't scared anymore. Lvl 1 roaches versus a Lvl 5 goblin? That wasn't a fight; that was pest control.
His thought—was more ambitious. Kill them all. Wiping out the nests one by one with a bone shard was tedious. It was inefficient. His 16 Intelligence hated inefficiency.
And then there was the other idea. The one that sparked in his human-born, book-fed mind.
Fire.
Fire was the ultimate tool. It was warmth. It was light. It was cooking. It was a weapon.
But how? He couldn't cast [Fireball]. His class was [Field Scavenger], not [Discount-Bin Wizard].
His gaze fell on his skill list. [Improvise (Passive)].
"You don't cast fire," he whispered, a sharp, toothy grin spreading. "You make it."
He needed three things: A spark, tinder, and fuel.
This cave was a damp, miserable sewer. "Dry" wasn't really in its vocabulary.
"Let's go shopping," he said.
He stood, his new loincloth-less state feeling... breezy. And unprofessional. His first stop was the corpse of the [Rot-Skin Goblin] he'd killed when he first woke up. It was mostly just bones and a... yes.
'Scavenge.'
[Scavenge (Lvl 2) Check (Per 12) vs. Difficulty (3)... Great Success!]
[You have obtained [Tattered Loincloth (Junk)] x 1]
[You have obtained [Goblin Bone Shard (Junk)] x 4]
He tied the new, disgusting, but functional loincloth around his waist. He was decent again. He set about using his [Sharp-Edged Rock] and his [Improvise] skill to sharpen the bone shards. His 16 Intelligence made the work fast.
[You have created [Sharpened Bone Shard (Poor)] x 4]
Now, for the fire.
He re-entered the crawlspace, but not as a hunter. He was a prospector. His [Analysis] skill was on high alert.
[Cave Slime (Inedible)]. [Damp Stone (Common)]. [Fossilized Poop (Junk)].
He ignored them. He was looking for one specific thing his skill had passively identified on his suicide-mission.
There.
A glint of yellow in the rock.
[Passive: [Analysis] activated!]
[Target: [Iron Pyrite (Fool's Gold - Junk)]]
[Core Properties Identified: [Sulfide Mineral], [Hardness: 6], [Ignition Source (Sparks when struck by chert/flint/hardened steel)].]
His rock was... well, it was a rock. He'd appraised it before.
[Sharp-Edged Rock (Junk)] -> [System Note: This appears to be a piece of Chert. Very hard.]
He grinned. He dug the [Iron Pyrite] out with a bone shard. He now had his spark.
Now for tinder. He needed something dry. Bone dry.
He crawled for ten minutes, his 12 Perception scanning every surface. Everything was damp. Slimy. Wet.
He was about to give up when he found it, in a high, dry alcove he'd missed before.
It was... a rag. A diseased one, like the one from his rope. But it had been here, in this dry spot, for... weeks?
[Passive: [Analysis] activated!]
[Target: [Dessicated Diseased Rag (Junk)]]
[Core Properties Identified: [Dry Cellulose Fiber], [Highly Flammable], [Mildewed].]
"Perfect," he cooed.
He returned to his alcove, his small, green hands full of potential.
He sat cross-legged, like a tiny, naked, goblin-monk. He put a piece of the [Dessicated Diseased Rag] on the floor. He held his [Sharp-Edged Rock (Chert)] in one hand and the [Iron Pyrite] in the other.
'Improvise.'
His mind, guided by the skill, told him the exact angle. The precise force.
He struck.
CLACK!
A single, brilliant-yellow spark flew from the impact.
It landed on the rag.
Nothing.
He struck again. CLACK! Spark. Nothing.
"Come on, you piece of nyango..."
CLACK-CLACK-SKRAK!
A shower of sparks. One landed on a frayed, dry thread.
A tiny, orange ember appeared. It was no bigger than a pinhead.
He leaned in, his flat nose wrinkling at the smell, and blew. Gently.
The ember glowed. A wisp of foul, acrid smoke rose.
[Improvise (Lvl 1) Check (Int 16) vs. Difficulty (8)... Success!]
[You have created a [Smoldering Ember]!]
[Your skill [Improvise (Passive)] has gained 40% EXP.]
He now had a [Smoldering Rag (Tool - Consumable)]. It wouldn't last long.
He grabbed his [Vials of Roach Pus (Poor)] and his new bone shards. He moved. Fast.
His 9 Agility was a blur. He scrambled through the crawlspace, back to the first nest he'd bypassed.
It was a small, circular side-cavern, buzzing with the sound of at least a dozen [Cave Roaches].
He peered in. They were skittering over a pile of... well, filth.
He didn't need to fight them one by one. He was a Scavenger.
His eyes fell on the [Vials of Roach Pus] at his belt.
'Appraisal.'
[Vial of Roach Pus (Poor) (Ammo/Material)]
Rank: F-rank
Description: A membrane-sac filled with acidic, infectious pus.
Effect: Minor [Acid] splash damage.
Note: The volatile compounds in the pus are... surprisingly flammable.
His grin became positively demonic.
He took one of his last pieces of [Roach Meat (Tainted)], a "gift" from his previous hunt. He threw it into the center of the nest.
'Junk Tossing!'
The meat slapped onto the filth-pile. The roaches swarmed it instantly, a writhing, chitinous carpet of legs and antennae.
Now.
He took his two remaining [Vials of Roach Pus] and threw them, one after another, right into the middle of the swarm.
SPLAT! SPLAT!
The roaches were doused in their own, weaponized bodily fluids. They chittered, confused, the acid already starting to sizzle on their shells.
They were perfectly marinated.
He lit a fresh corner of his [Dessicated Diseased Rag] from the smoldering ember. It caught, a small, smoky flame.
"Dinner," he rasped.
He tossed the burning rag onto the pus-soaked pile.
FWOOOOMPH!
The result was spectacular.
A column of greasy, greenish-yellow flame erupted in the small cavern. It was less a fire and more a chemical conflagration.
The sound was horrific. A dozen high-pitched, chittering shrieks as the roaches were flash-fried in their own acidic, flammable guts.
The smell...
The smell was a war crime. It was burning acid, burning chitin, burning mildewed rags, and burning feces. His 12 Perception reeled, and he gagged, stumbling back.
But the notifications were beautiful.
[You have slain a [Cave Roach (Bloated) (Lvl 1)]!] [Experience Gained: 2 EXP.]
[You have slain a [Cave Roach (Bloated) (Lvl 1)]!] [Experience Gained: 2 EXP.]
[You have slain a [Cave Roach (Bloated) (Lvl 1)]!] [Experience Gained: 2 EXP.]
...
He'd killed 14 roaches in thirty three seconds.
[28 EXP Gained!]
[Level 5 (33/50 EXP)]
[Your Class [Field Scavenger (Lvl 2)] has gained proficiency! -> 35% EXP]
The fire died down as fast as it had started, leaving a smoldering, blackened, and utterly disgusting pile of charred bug-parts.
He stepped into the smoky cavern, his eyes watering.
He looked at the pile.
'Scavenge.'
[Activating Skill: Scavenge (Lvl 2). Target: [Pile of Charred Roaches].]
[Perception Check (12) vs. Target Difficulty (4)... Great Success!]
[You have obtained the following:]
[Charred Chitin Fragment (Junk)] x 20
[Ash (Junk)] x 5
[Cooked Roach Meat (Poor)] x 14
He stopped. He looked at the last item. [Cooked Roach Meat].
He picked one up. It was a blackened, shriveled husk. It still smelled... awful. But different.
'Appraisal.'
[Cooked Roach Meat (Poor) (Consumable)]
Rank: F-rank
Description: The flesh of a [Cave Roach], purified by fire. The acidic taste is gone, leaving a smoky, if unappetizing, flavor.
Effect: Restores 0.3 Stamina.
Risk: None.
None.
His [Toxin Resistance] skill was great. But no risk was better.
He, a Lvl 5 goblin, had just invented barbecue.
He bit into it.
It was crunchy, smoky, and tasted vaguely like burnt tires. But it wasn't sour. It wasn't acidic. It didn't try to kill him.
He ate three pieces, his Stamina bar filling.
He checked his Evolution Log.
[Progress to 2nd Evolution: 2.8% / 100%
[Insectoid Essence (Chitin)]: 50%
[Fungal Essence (Purifying)]: 25%
[Goblinoid Essence (Cannibalism)]: 20%
[Toxin Essence (Tainted)]: 5%
He was back on the insect train.
He looked at the tunnel leading to the other roach nests, his new loincloth bristling with [Sharpened Bone Shards] and his mind buzzing with 16 points of terrible, flammable ideas.
He was no longer a rat in the walls. He was an exterminator.
And he was just getting started.