[STATUS RECAP: THE KLIK-KIN HIERARCHY - Dawn of the Iron Harvest]
Host: Klik (The Artisan-King)
Level: 18 (1st Evo) | Rank: F-Rank (Peak)
Class: [Artisan-Tinker] Lvl 10 (E-Rank Class - 1st Evo Cap!)
Stats (Base Before Debuff): STR: 21, AGI: 23, STA: 23, INT: 42, PER: 38, MANA: 19
Stats (Crippled): STR: 19, AGI: 21, STA: 23, INT: 42, PER: 38, MANA: 19
Debuff: [Fused E-Rank Armor] (-2 STR, -2 AGI). Constant Pain/Itching.
Key Skills: [Analyze Structure Lvl 1], [Advanced-Refinement Lvl 1], [Basic-Smithing Lvl 1], [Basic-Construction Lvl 1], [Weapon-Tinker Lvl 1], [Armor-Tinker Lvl 1], [Analyze Weakness Lvl 1], [Refine Material Lvl 1], [Trap Crafting Lvl 2], [Acid Spit Lvl 1].
Notable Inventory: [Volcanic Gastropod Core (Unstable)], [Formian Legionnaire Core (E-Mid)], [Damaged Formian Datapad], [Formian Combat Tactics Schematic], [Formian Woven-Chitin Schematic], [Evolutionary Catalyst (Lesser)] x 2, [Chitin-Infused Iron Mace (Common-High)], [Goblin Acid-Sprayer (Common-Unstable)].
Lieutenant 1: Snarl the Grave-Stalker (The Shadow)
Level: 10 (2nd Evolution) | Rank: E-Rank (Lower)
Stats (Base - Includes +5 Rnd): Approx. STR: 29 (+1), AGI: 52 (+2), STA: 32 (+1), INT: 4, PER: 26 (+1) (Scent-Enhanced)
Key Skills: [Scent-Hunter (E-Rank)], [Lesser-Stealth (Passive)], [Bone-Crushing-Jaw (Active)], [Spear-Fighting (Basic) Lvl 5].
Equipment: [Goblin-Forged Acid-Tip Spear (F-Peak)], [Snarl's Shadow-Scale Armor (Common)].
Lieutenant 2: Bruk (The Wall)
Level: 16 (1st Evolution) | Rank: F-Rank (Peak)
Stats (Base Before Debuff - Includes +5 Rnd): Approx. STR: 18 (+2), AGI: 6 (+1), STA: 18 (+2), INT: 3, PER: 4
Stats (Crippled): Approx. STR: 16, AGI: 5, STA: 16
Traits/Debuffs: [E-Rank Burns (Severe)], [Crippled Limb (Left Arm)], [Fire-Scarred (Lesser)].
Key Skills: [Mace-Fighting (Basic) Lvl 4], [Toughness (Lvl 2)], [Primitive-Construction Lvl 1].
Equipment:[Chitin-Infused Iron Mace (Common)], [Bruk's Reinforced Plate (Common-High)], [Melted-Chitin-Shield (Fused/Junk)].
Lieutenant 3: Grik (The Hand)
Level: 16 (1st Evolution) | Rank: F-Rank (Peak)
Stats (Base - Includes +5 Rnd): Approx. STR: 11 (+1), AGI: 12 (+1), STA: 12 (+1), INT: 12 (+2), PER: 9
Key Skills: [Primitive-Crafting (Lvl 3)], [Spear-Fighting (Basic) Lvl 2], [Primitive-Construction Lvl 1)].
Equipment:[Goblin-Fitted Plate-Armor (Common)], [Goblin-Forged Iron Spearhead (Common)] (Attached to bone shaft).
The Tribe (The Klik-Kin):
Count: 27 Goblins.
Average Level: Lvl 11. Lowest Level: Lvl 10.
Buffs: [Obedience (Lvl 1)], [Courage (Lvl 1)], [Hive Resilience (Lvl 1)].
Note: All received +5 random stats, diversifying the tribe. Base INT for most is now 5-6.
The silence wasn't peace; it was the indrawn breath before the hurricane. Klik stood amidst the wreckage of the battle, the [Damaged Formian Datapad]'s silent timer – 68 hours – a brand on his 42-INT mind. His kingdom, The Barricade, had survived. More than survived – it had feasted on the EXP and stats rained down by the System, a reward for defying the Hive's purge. His goblins, once whimpering shadows, were now Lvl 11 veterans, their eyes holding a new, harder light, their bodies subtly reshaped by the random blessings of +5 stats. His Lieutenants stood transformed: Snarl, an E-Rank phantom pushing Lvl 10 of her second evolution; Bruk and Grik, hardened F-Rank peaks at Lvl 16, armored and armed.
But Klik felt no triumph. Only the constant, agonizing itch of his raw, acid-peeled skin beneath the fused E-Rank armor, and the cold, relentless pressure of the Hive's impending return. This victory was a temporary reprieve, bought with goblin blood and molten iron. The real war was coming.
"The farmer rejoices after the harvest," his mind supplied, the proverb tasting like ash, "but the wise farmer immediately sharpens his tools for the next planting… or the locust swarm."
The swarm was coming. He needed better tools.
"GRIK!"
The Lvl 16 King's-Hand, looking noticeably sharper, his 12 INT processing the battlefield with newfound clarity, snapped to attention. "KING-GOD! YOUR FORGE BURNS BRIGHT!" (He was definitely getting better at titles).
Klik pointed his new [Chitin-Infused Iron Mace] – a brutal, beautiful weapon that felt right in his 19-STR grip – towards the ten Formian corpses being systematically stripped by the tribe. "THE HARVEST! FASTER!"
He gestured towards his roaring [Primitive-Furnace]. "IRON! BRING ME ALL OF IT! SPEARS! ARMOR! EVERY SCRAP!"
Grik nodded, his eyes gleaming with understanding. "YES, KING-GOD! THE IRON HARVEST! LOOTERS! STRIPPERS! FASTER! FEED THE FIRE-GOD'S FIRE!" He bellowed, driving the Lvl 11 goblins with renewed urgency. They worked with a frantic energy, tearing apart the Formian remains, piling salvaged [Iron Spearheads] and dented [Shaped Iron-Plates] near the forge. The stench of butchery intensified.
Klik turned, ignoring the grisly work. His priority was creation, preparation, and his own stalled evolution.
He stalked towards the newly opened tunnel into the [Fungal-Caverns]. It smelled of damp earth, mildew, and potential.
"SNARL!"
The Grave-Stalker materialized from the shadows beside him, her Lvl 10 E-Rank presence a palpable aura of predatory silence. Her [Scent-Hunter] skill was already sampling the air from the new tunnel. "King-God." Her voice was a low growl, more beast than goblin now.
"NEW HUNT," Klik rasped, his fused armor pulling painfully as he gestured. He needed resources for his [Forge Quest] advancement and crucial Essences for his own evolution. "CLAY. SOFT-STONE. NEAR WATER." He pointed deeper into the imagined map of the Fungal Caverns. "TAR-SHROOM. STICKY-BLACK. FIND."
He paused, meeting her intelligent, unsettlingly grey-green eyes. "AND… NEW MEAT." He focused his 38 PER, accessing his Evolution Log. 70% Insectoid. Too high. The [Legionnaire Core]'s 30% mental attack risk was unacceptable. He needed balance. "BIG LIZARD. ROCK-SKIN. FIND. KILL." He remembered seeing signs of larger reptiles deeper in. Their Essence would dilute the Insectoid path. "BEAST. FURRY. FOUR-LEGS. NOT HOUND." Cave bears? Something else? He needed Mammalian or Reptilian Essence. Urgently.
Snarl sniffed the air again, processing the complex olfactory commands. Her 27+ PER mapped the likely locations based on trace scents carried on the faint air currents. She nodded once. "Snarl… hunts. Finds… Clay. Finds… Tar. Finds… Lizard. Finds… Beast. For King-God. For… Evolution." She seemed to understand, on some primal level, the importance of diversifying the kill. She gathered her elite hunting party – six Lvl 11-12 goblins, now armed with Klik's reforged [Goblin-Forged Iron Spearheads] – and vanished into the new tunnel like smoke.
With the resource gathering delegated, Klik turned to his most critical project: The Forge.
For the next sixty hours, the Barricade became Klik's personal crucible. He drove himself and his tribe with a relentless, pain-fueled intensity.
The Iron Harvest: Under Grik's increasingly competent supervision, the tribe harvested every usable scrap of iron and chitin from the twenty Formian corpses (ten from the first siege, ten from the second). Klik used his [Advanced-Refinement] skill tirelessly, transforming broken spears and dented plates into piles of [Forged Iron Spearheads (Common)] and [Shaped Iron-Plates (Common)]. His [Artisan-Tinker] Class leveled rapidly.
[Class Level 10 -> Lvl 11… Lvl 12!]
[Intelligence +4, Perception +4!] (His INT hit 46, PER 42).
Arming the Kin: With refined materials flowing, Klik began mass production.
Weapons: He reforged all the harvested spearheads, creating twenty [Goblin-Forged Iron Spearheads]. He directed Grik's [Crafters] (now Lvl 5+, INT 5-6) to haft them onto sturdy [Hardened Bone-Shafts]. His ten best warriors now carried real iron. He also forged a dozen [Iron Shortswords (Common - Poor)], distributing them among the remaining tribe members, replacing their pathetic shivs.
Armor: He painstakingly repaired and refitted the ten sets of [Formian Plate-Armor], creating [Goblin-Fitted Plate-Armor (Common)]. He distributed these to Grik, Bruk (enhancing his existing set), Snarl (replacing her scale armor), and the seven strongest members of Snarl's hunting party. The rest of the tribe received upgraded [Patchwork Chitin-Hide Armor (Poor)], reinforced with scavenged Formian chitin using the [Woven-Chitin Schematic] techniques Grik was slowly mastering.
Shields: Using [Basic-Construction], Klik supervised the creation of crude [Iron-Reinforced Wooden Shields (Poor)] (using petrified fungus 'wood' found by Snarl) for the spear-line.
The Secret Weapon - Insecticide: Amidst the clang of the forge, Klik dedicated precious hours to his hidden project. In a secluded corner, shielded by hanging hides, he worked with the [Formian Pheromone Gland] and [Roach Queen Acid Gland] remnants. Using [Advanced-Refinement] and the nascent principles of alchemy his 46 INT could grasp, he distilled volatile compounds. He experimented with [Tar-Cap Coke] dust as a stabilizer. The process was dangerous, filled with noxious fumes and minor chemical burns on his already raw skin. He finally produced a small batch – perhaps five fragile [Clay Vials] – filled with a viscous, clear, almost odorless liquid.
[You have created [Concentrated Formian Bane (Poor - Volatile)] x 5!]
[Rank: E-Rank (Situational)]
[Description: A potent, synthesized neurotoxin derived from Formian and Roach Queen essences. Designed to overwhelm insectoid nervous systems upon contact or inhalation in enclosed spaces. Highly volatile. Effectiveness against higher-ranking Formians unknown.]
[Effect: Inflicts [Paralysis (Moderate)] and [Suffocation (Minor)] to F-Rank Insectoids. Reduced effect on E-Rank. Duration: 30 seconds.]
He hid the vials carefully. A weapon of last resort.
Training and Evolution Prep: Grik, armed with the [Legionnaire Tactics Schematic] and a booming voice, drilled the ten spear-goblins relentlessly. They were clumsy, stupid, but the [Obedience] skill forced them to try. They could now form a crude, overlapping shield wall and perform basic synchronized thrusts. It was ugly, but it was formation. Bruk, meanwhile, sparred brutally with the mace/sword wielders, teaching them resilience through pain. Snarl took her hunters on increasingly dangerous forays, bringing back not just food, but combat experience. Her team was becoming a hardened cadre.
Klik, nearing his Lvl 20 cap, felt the pressure. Snarl returned with a massive [Lvl 18 Rock-Lizard] kill. Klik immediately consumed its heart and specific glands.
[You have consumed [Rock-Lizard Essence]!]
[Evolution Log Updated: +5% Reptilian Essence!]
His Insectoid dominance dropped slightly (to 65%). Progress. He needed more. He sent Snarl deeper, seeking the rumored "Furry Beast."
He looked at the remaining [Evolutionary Catalysts]. Bruk was Lvl 16. Grik was Lvl 16. Both had proven their worth. He couldn't wait. He gave the second Catalyst to Grik. "MAKE. SMART. STRONG," was all he said. Grik accepted it with trembling reverence. The final Catalyst remained Klik's alone, a strategic reserve.
The Cap and the Conversion: Klik threw himself back into forging, crafting replacement caltrops, reinforcing the barricade (now incorporating iron spikes). His Lvl 18 bar filled rapidly.
[You have Leveled Up! (Lvl 18 -> Lvl 19)!]
[You have Leveled Up! (Lvl 19 -> Lvl 20)!]
[WARNING! YOU HAVE REACHED THE [LEVEL 20 CAP] FOR 1ST EVOLUTION!]
[Evolution Conditions NOT MET! Your Essence profile is currently unstable (65% Insectoid)! Proceeding risks forced/malignant evolution!]
[ALERT: All future Monster Level EXP will be WASTED unless Evolution occurs!]
Klik snarled. He knew this was coming. He couldn't risk the [Legionnaire Core] yet. He needed more balance. But the waste...
[SYSTEM UPDATE CONFIRMED: Host possesses unique Duality (Monster Evolution + Class System). Standard EXP waste protocols overridden.]
[NEW MECHANIC: [Essence Overflow Conversion]!]
[EXP gained after reaching a Monster Evolution Level Cap will be converted into [Class Skill Points] at a rate of [200 Monster EXP = 1 Class Skill Point].]
[Class Skill Points (SP) can be spent to directly increase the level of known Class Skills.]
Klik grinned, a painful splitting of his raw face. Yes. He could still progress. He could master his Class even while his bodystalled. "I guess the universe hasn't given up on me yet"
The Final Hours:
*10 hours remain.
The Forge fell silent. Klik had crafted everything he could. His Mana was depleted. His body screamed for rest he couldn't afford.
Twenty [Goblin-Forged Iron Spears]. Fifteen [Iron Shortswords]. Ten sets of [Goblin-Fitted Plate-Armor]. Twenty [Iron-Reinforced Shields]. Baskets overflowing with [Iron Caltrops]. Five precious vials of [Formian Bane]. One [Acid-Sprayer].
His tribe was as ready as 27 goblins could be. Average Lvl 13. Armed. Armored (mostly). Terrified, but disciplined.
*6 hours remain.
Snarl returned. Empty-handed. But her eyes burned with urgency.
"King-God," she hissed, her [Scent-Hunter] vibrating. "**They… come. Smell… strong. Many. Metal… much metal. And… new smell. Hot. Like… Forge?"
Klik's blood ran cold. Heat. The [Praetorian]. And more?
He hobbled to the peep-hole.
The thrumming was back. Louder. Closer.
He looked out.
The darknesswasgone.
It was a sea of black chitin. Hundreds of Skirmishers. Dozens of Hoplites. Acid-Spitters.
And behind them… not one Praetorian.
Three.
Three Lvl 35 [Formian Praetorians], their heat-lancesglowing with malevolent, orangelight.
And at their head… somethingelse.
Floating. A large, crystallineorb, pulsating with psychicenergy, escorted by foursmaller, robedFormians.
Klik [Appraised] the orb.
Race: Formian Hive-Synapse (Psionic Caste)
Level: 40
Rank: E-Rank (High)
Title: [Forward-Coordinator]
INT: 30
Acommander. A psionic commander.
The Hivewasn'tjustsendingsoldiers. It wassendingaGeneral Staff.
Klik pulled back, his raw handtrembling.
He looked at his tribe. His *pathetic, beautiful, doomedtribe. " It did give up on me f*ck lady luck".
He looked at the [Volcanic Gastropod Core]pulsing in his pouch.
90% Death.
He looked at the [Legionnaire Core]. 30% Mind-Control.
He looked at his fivevials of [Formian Bane].
Three dayshad bought him an army.
But the Hivehad broughtan Apocalypse.
He raised his [Chitin-Infused Mace].
"KLIK-KIN!" His voicewascalm. Too calm. "THEY. ARE. HERE."
He activated[Courage]. He activated[Hive Resilience].
"FOR THE BARRICADE! FOR THE FORGE!"
He pointed his maceat the wall.
"…SURVIVE!"
The firstheat-lancebeamstruck the Barricade.
VWHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Granitevaporized.
The finalbattlehad begun.