Crisp morning air embraces Crusher as he sits in his new home. Gwen is outside standing guard. He barely convinced her he would be safe enough without her inside his home. The bone chair he sits in is comfortable. Almost like the chair was made for him. Unfortunately, the cave's chair and many other bone fixtures are slowly weathering. Summoned materials are never meant to last. Despite the decaying death tools inside the cave, his home is lively.

Moss is growing on the ceiling, cleaning the air of impurities. Lazy Mushrooms are growing under the bed, allowing the inhabitant to sleep easily and peacefully. The mushrooms also work to keep his cultivation active at all times during his rest. The mushrooms pull on life energy, acting as a channeling source. Bright Blooms, another type of mushroom, give off ambient light making the cave much less dark at night. Along the walls, yellow and purple wildflowers somehow find a way to grow.

Outside the cave, wild grass grows, covering the burned patches caused by the dragon. Cru often sends his life man into the soil, enhancing the worms and critters that make the earth their home. In return, they exude mana into the atmosphere, further developing the surrounding life. The only evidence of the dragon's fire is the young life of sprouting trees and flowers.

Now, Crusher is taking some time to meditate and cultivate. His new life on the island is the best he's ever lived. He wants more. If it were up to him, he would never return to the lonely life in the Eternal Darkness Dungeon. The clans might wish to him now. He could qualify as a chieftain and be given his own clan. A small part of him wanted that. As great as the spiders were, they would never see him as a friend. Only a god.

The small desire is quickly squashed. There is no way he would return to that life. He was only given a chance when he had something to offer. Now that he has much more to offer, there is no way he will let the goblins treat him as if he were one of their rising warriors. He didn't want their attention or their companionship. They could rot.

What Crusher needs is more. More power. More subjects. Perhaps he can raise other monsters not so devoted to a god. The golden seeds are always on his mind. He doesn't know what they can do. All he knows is that they are full of power. He is still determining whether that power should be absorbed for himself or given back to the island.

If he had the dungeon core, he could quickly raise an island full of equals. The thought begins to burn within Crusher. He has the means and the power to take the core. Why shouldn't he claim it for himself? All he needs to do is avoid the dragon and beat the rest of the horde to the gem.

Slow down, he tells himself. The way of the spider is not to impulsively act. He must plan and prepare. Send out his scouts, spread the web, and wait to ensnare the core. Crusher focuses on all the details of his plan. Where to send the spiders, how to keep communication constant, and how to keep growing in power. Any weak thread in his plan is replaced with a stronger line. Where there is excess, it is trimmed. Obtaining the core is no longer a matter of if. It was a matter of when —

"I like what you have done with the place." A calm, smooth voice breaks Crusher from his meditation. Instantly the voice not inside his head triggers his fight. Armor springs across his body, legs, and arms. His head is covered in a helmet. The spider blades extend from the back of his hand. Webbing shoots from the spider leg launchers extending from his back.

"Easy now," the man clad in a black battle robe says as he dodges the webs and raises his unarmed hands. "I'm only here to say hello. I noticed the woods look healthier and wanted to know who to thank."

Crusher eyes the man warily and stretches out his perception. Drifter, Rook, is all the information he can read. A dark black robe that reaches the orc's mid-calf covers most of the drifter's body. Beneath the cloak is a light layer of dull black armor that perfectly fits his body. No weapons are seen on him, and there is no evidence of any hiding underneath the cloak.

The tips of the orcs' ears barely push past his black wavy hair that blends with his dark beard covering a strong jaw. The tannish brown face lacks any piercings or tattoos. He must be from a fangless clan or island, which would explain his smaller build.

The drifter's body is as bulky as his when wearing armor. Though for being an orc, he is not nearly as massive as the mercenaries often sent to fight the goblins. The stranger was maybe taller than him by an inch or two. Crusher had first-hand experience dying several times from the skilled warriors. Those deaths never bothered him. What bothered him was when the orcs no longer took an interest in killing the weak runt.

Crusher keeps his spider blade at the ready. Life mana channels within him. At any moment, he can extend his life barrier and drain the stranger's life while he stabs him with his knife. Before that, he will send out an energy blast stunning the man momentarily. Webbing can slow him down, if not entirely stop him. He extends his senses, searching for his spiders. All of them are nearby, not even one injured or dead. Feeling less threatened, he decides to engage the orc.

"How did you get past the guards?" His voice is slightly broken and weaker than what he wants to present.

"Get this. I crouched really low and just started walking in. They didn't see a thing. Might be a sneak skill or something. It's a shame they ignored me. They seem a lot more welcoming than the last time I met them. Just didn't want to spook anyone. I take it you are the one that gets the credit for their improvements?"

Crusher eyes the man intently and gives him a confirming nod.

"Most impressive. Did you design them yourself? As a fellow body sculptor, I know talent when I see it. There is a question, but the orc moves on when Crusher roots it out. "Thanks for taking care of the forest. I owe you one."

The drifter takes another look around the den. He reaches his hands out, touches the various bone fixtures, and begins improving them. Every fixture from the stove, table, water pipes, and chair is fixed and upgraded to black iron-like material, like the armor the orc is wearing. "Upgrades are on the house… "He winces as soon as he finishes his sentence.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Well, I'll be off now. Great work with the forest. Enjoy my home… your home for as long as you like. When you're ready for company, come see me on the other side of the mountains. There's a place for you and your devoted spiders there. One can never have too many friends." The man smiles and begins walking out of the cave.

"Almost forgot." The drifter reaches for his outside robe pocket. Crusher's senses alert him of danger, and he launches all his attacks. Life pulse to impair. Webbings shoot to ensnare. His life barrier expands, creating a shield and a life drain. Spider blades shoot from the back of his hands. He calls for his spiders to swarm.

Nothing seems to hit the man. He hardly moves, yet he is unfazed by all the attacks. "Yeah, that's on me. I totally misread the room," he struggles to speak as he dodges everything. His hand is no longer in his pouch pocket. It is now lightly gripping a large bag. Crusher's danger senses relax. His heart stops pounding, and life mana becomes more supportive. A delicious aroma wafts through the lingering energy that is slowly dissipating.

"This is just a home welcoming and parting gift. The kobolds across the river were kind enough to let me take all this food while they were sleeping. I've plenty, so I might as well share." He drops the food bag on the ground and continues to back away. "Sorry for the confusion. Hope I get to see you again soon. Tell the spider chick guarding the door that I dig her armor. Those pauldrons are a fine piece of craftsmanship. I'd know too. I possibly once was a master armorer."

Before Crusher can speak or attack again, the drifter vanishes. His spiders are at his side. Gwen is covering him with her shields. Trish and Diti search for the man with a third of the spiders. Shelby walks over with the large food sack in her hand. She struggles to hold it with two hands.

Lord, where did this come from? Are you alright?

Yes, I am fine. We had strange… company. He is gone now. Call off the search.

Yes, Lord, Crusher can feel the whole weight of worry in her response. I am sorry we failed you. We are not worthy.

Crusher finds himself in a weird place. Solitude has been good for him. At the same time, he can't stop thinking of the words that pierced his mind when the man left. I don't have many friends. I can be yours if you want to be mine.

Crusher had no friends. He didn't even have peers. Even he could tell that statement was awkward. People don't go around offering friendship. That is not how the world works. People only make friends if it brings them power. Yet the man asked anyway, and with the words was sincerity and warmth. Perhaps when he is done with his tasks here, Crusher will explore what he can gain from this friendship.

Till then, he has plenty of tasks he needs to handle. However, before he gets to those tasks, he will eat. He had never experienced a meal before. The best he got was scraps of rations. The aroma seeping through the bag makes his stomach ache with hunger. He grabs the bag and begins pulling food out. All the food Crusher ever dreamed of eating is whole chicken, potatoes, fruits, and beef. His mouth waters before he takes his first bite.

The flavor of red meat fills his mouth with the most pleasant taste. His teeth sink in deep as he rips a huge bite off. Still working on the seasoned beef, he prepares a bite of chicken. Every morsel and moment is savored as exotic flavors fill his mouth.

It was more than he had ever dreamed of. The enjoyment is too much. He needs to share this experience. He looks at his queens and offers them food. He wants them to try it...he needs them to try it with him. They will not. How could they eat the food of their god? Crusher's stomach and mouth rejoice, while tucked away deep in his chest, hidden and protected from the hurt of his youth, his heart aches.

****

Standing in the corner of my old home, I watch as the spider druid feasts on the food I left behind. Spiders are all around me, yet they do not detect my presence. I told the goblin I had a sneak skill. The truth is that the shadow queen has been a fantastic teacher in all things spirit perception. So much so that I can now mask my presence from most. The druid could learn a lot from her. And yeah, I have a sneak skill, but that's less impressive.

I don't know why I linger. I know it's creepy, and I need to respect people's private moments. It's just the goblin had a hard life. He could use some friends that've also had hard lives. And probably some friends that had good lives too. I know I could use a friend. One cannot have too many friends. Besides, the tart almost killed me. He kind of owes me his friendship.

I watch the druid take his first bite of beef. Emotions swell as I see the enjoyment on his face. I really shouldn't be watching this. He takes another bite and then another. His excitement and hunger only grow. Then all the emotions crash when the seasoned goblin looks for a friend and finds none. He's alone as he's ever been.

Torn between violating the man's intimate moment and not wanting to leave him utterly alone, I linger in my old home a while longer. Perhaps if the goblin ever does come to find me, I can ask for his forgiveness then. Until then, I offer my unnoticed friendship and share this life experience with the Crusher of the Outcasts and the Lonely. I wince and shiver simultaneously. Even with all my logic and defending, the title is awful. Crusher the Benevolent... maybe a little better.

I give the life druid one last look before I leave. He is surrounded by spiders. He's blessed beyond reason. There are five Human spiders like Annette, their former queen. The rest of the spiders look nothing like when I first met them. Now, I'm not sure I could take them on if we were to fight. Some of them have actual swords for legs. That's unnatural and unfair.

Despite their deep desire for a god, their worship of the druid is more than devotion. There is bottomless gratitude, which is kinda worship, so that doesn't count. There is a longing to serve… no, that is more worship business. There is love… Awe yes. Love. Where there is love, there is no place for worship, for love conquers all. My body shivers longer than it did before. When I think it will stop, it keeps going. The shivers creep into my eyes, which begin twitching.

I don't even care how it sounds. The druid saved the forest and the spiders. A forest so dark it suffocated itself with life, and who knows what demon was tainting that place that he had to deal with. Then there are the spiders. Spiders eat people from the inside out and do weird things with eggs. He is deserving of love.

"I hope I see you again soon, Crusher… Cru," I whisper right before I flee.

****

Crusher startles as he hears the words spoken. His spiders perk, searching for the intruder. The words are so soft they barely travel to his ears. Yet the words carry through his heart, piercing — shaping his soul. He takes a moment to breathe. Just breathe. He savors the most delicious word he has ever heard. His fists clench as if trying to hold onto the silent-sweet words forever. A name was given — his name, his own. As Cru's joy rises, so does his fist in a quiet celebration.