The spiders he sends out know nothing of the forest's sickness. To them, the overgrowth is like them and how it used to be before the culling. They were the dominant species. Why shouldn't they spread? The forest has the means to grow. Why not grow? You take what you can get. Power takes power.

The druid knew right away that the forest is dying. It’s growing trees and plants wildly, hoping to sustain itself. Even worse, the rot is spreading through the forest. Just north of the dark woods, the spiders find more overgrowth. While surrounding forest’s growth is not as drastic as it is here, it’s only a matter of time before it’s the same.

The trees and plants search for nutrients in the ground. They reach for the life-sustaining sun, and yet, they are starving. The ground's nutrients and the sun's energy are absorbed elsewhere. Where that is, the spiders — he did not know. All he knows is that the forest needs his help.

Cleanse the forest. Cut down three out of four trees. Remove the undergrowth. Take note of any creatures you find. Absorb all the energy of the eradicated plants. Look for the source of the rot, he sends the message to his herald, trusting she will get it done.

As excited for the power he is going to harvest, it brings no joy to the druid to cut into nature so deeply. Repeatedly, he tells himself that he's doing it for the forest, not for his hunger.

Walking through the forest, he experiences firsthand the extreme overgrowth. With his perception open, he can feel the forest is famished. He can even relate to the desperate hunger. He couldn’t count the times he died due to starvation. The deaths and lives are all lost in a blur. The feeling though… the unending ache for more is never forgotten. No one should die of hunger.

The forest growth is not of its own accord. Something is causing the growth, and something is causing the forest to starve. The druid grows increasingly anxious to find the source of the problem. Whatever it is, he will fix it.

In quick order, the spiders begin acting. All the swords work on cutting the trees. The shields work on the undergrowth. Directing all the work are the commanders who are also searching for the source of the problem. Absorbing life energy from the fallen trees are the spinners.

It isn't his intention to keep the power. His plan is to distribute it back to the spiders — first to his queens and then to the spiders. The convoluted power transfer supports the established relationship between him and the devoted spiders.

The goblin longed to be accepted, wanted… needed it, all his life. He almost found satisfaction in completing his assigned tasks. Tasks needed to get done, and he fulfilled that need. He was accepted in that role. Now, things have become extreme. He is currently both needed and wanted, yet it still feels empty. Did they need him? Did they want him?

He could argue the need was there. Before he came along, the spiders were set on keeping each other down. No one was worthy to stand out, and so when one got a foot up, the rest were quick to bring it down. They wanted a leader but would not willingly give up the power for a leader. The position needed to be taken by force. As it was, no spider was strong enough to take the role by force, nor was any spider given a chance.

The want… he wasn't so sure. The spiders want a god. He is no god. He didn't even qualify to be a goblin. Still, it is like any unsavory task. Someone has got to do it. And if it has to get done, there is a need. He can fulfill the need, and being needed is close to being wanted. That is something he just had to accept.

Trees fall by the hundreds. Plants are cleared quickly. Wherever he walks, spiders pause and bow until he passes. Though the trees are being removed fast, the dark forest is vast, and there is much work. The reverent bows of devotion only delay the relief the forest needs. Not wanting to be worshiped nor wanting to prolong their efforts, he walks deep into the woods. When he finds a secluded spot in the woods, only Diti by his side, he prepares to work.

Solemnly and with much respect, he addresses the forest. "I'm sorry we are cutting you down. Your growth is out of balance, and you will die if you continue like this. As a guardian of nature, I promise we will use your power to save you." Though his words don't feel adequate, he feels better having explained to the trees his intentions.

Peacefulness covers the brimming scenery. What should be a vibrant green and yellow mana landscape is dull and sullen. The branches barely hold themselves upright. Leaves lack luster. No birds chirp. Not even the wind breaks the silence.

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The sensation of the blade extending from the back of his hands pulls his focus to the tree before him. He struggles to maintain a solemn expression as every piece of the blade moves through his skin and past his knuckles, becoming a part of his body. Stretching past his arms by two feet, the durable blades feel hungry for life.

He wastes no time cutting into the thick tree. His blade glances off the bark on his first swing and barely leaves a dent. He tries again with the same result. On his third swing, he is careful to keep the edge of the sword level but over-extends and hits the tree with the base of his blade, barely avoiding crushing his hand.

Though he has the knowledge and strength from his bond with his queens, he lacks experience. Inadequate for the task as he is, he maintains a clear focus and keeps trying. He learned to accept that he wasn’t good at things long ago. That didn't stop him from getting things done.

Whack. He didn't care that his swings were clumsy, and his blades got stuck most of the time. The action is cathartic. More cathartic than anything he had ever experienced. Whack.

Again and again, he swings his blade. Fifty strikes to cut through the thickest trees. Ten strikes to cut through the smaller ones.

The druid pays his respect to each tree he cuts down. Then quickly moves on to the next, trying to hone his techniques so the trees suffer less.

My Lord, a quarter of the forest has been culled. The spiders are eager to continue the work, but their productivity has fallen. Diti’s message pulls him from his deep focus.

For the first time, he notices that the dark forest is much darker than when he started. He looks up through the tree clearing and gives the moon a small nod. "Have the spiders rest. They will start again at first light."

As you will, my Lord. Diti lowers her head in reverence and relays the command.

The druid’s work continues well into the night. Life energy sustains him keeping him vitalized for the task. Sending the power to his spiders would be a waste of resources, so he alone continues to work. As he works, he actively focuses on his body cultivation. He doesn’t want to stray too far from the druid pathway, but a couple aspects of body won’t mess things up for him in the long run.

Whack. Another strike, another tree. The goblin falls into a familiar trance. There is a task to get done, and he will get it done. He always finished his work. Instead of fighting monsters in his past life, he ground through tedious chores. One after another. And just as he had always done, he crushed each task before. Only when he was done could he get to live outside the dungeon. Slowly, ever so slowly, getting better each time.

Whack. These trees, this forest, are no different. It was his task, and he would crush it…

A longing for an actual name breaks him from his trance. It took him by surprise, and he tries to shake the feeling.

A name was something he greatly desired in his past life. Being given a name would mean he finally made it. He was accepted. The chiefs didn't even need to create a name for him. He already had one he came up with and would be more than happy to keep his role as the one who did the tasks no one wanted. He just wanted to be known for it and accepted for it.

Whack. His sword cuts deep into the tree that is thicker than his body. He tries harder and harder to clear the thought.

Whack. He swings again, and chunks of wood go flying.

Whack. The tree is sliced through. Before the tree hits the ground, he is already cutting into the next one. That was his old life. There is no place for thoughts like that now.

Whack.

Whack.

No matter how hard he swings, the longing lingers. What he needs now is to focus and plan. Clearing the forest is only one part of the plan. Removing the rot is the next. After that, he will do everything in his power so that he did not ever have to return home to the dungeon. He could have his own name here. He has a purpose. More than that, he has his spiders... He tries to convince himself.

Through his tireless effort, he makes great strides in progress. His swings are no longer clumsy. He can cut the trees wider than his body in three swings. The trees half that size only take one. His slashes no longer feel awkward. More than that, he feels like he is developing a form he can use for fighting. If he ever had to use his blades.

Mid-cut, he’s broken out of his trance once again. This time it isn't his own thoughts. Diti had sent him a message.

My Lord, we have found the source of the rot.