Thankfully, when Rory awoke, he did not wake up to any surprises. Checking his rituals, he found that the unfortunate monster rabbit from the day before was gone, with no signs of escape, meaning it had been completely absorbed.
Which also means I slept more than twelve hours. Damn, I really was tired.
Next was a check on his sapling. Its progress had jumped an entire… Two percent.
But- Rory reminded himself. That's two percent in twelve hours.
Between the five days of constructing the sub-ritual and the two percent gained from the rabbit, his sapling was twenty-four percent corrupted.
Assuming similar rates, I only need to abduct thirty-eight more rabbits.
"Technically less." Rory corrected himself. If each rabbit took twelve hours to absorb, thirty-eight rabbits would take nineteen days, and he'd also see some natural corruption rate over those days.
But it's probably better to play it safe rather than sorry.
Finding and capturing the rabbits wasn't likely to be that difficult. The beginning-tier monsters were back to being a little more dangerous than actual rabbits.
What I need is a way to restrain them.
That was a surprisingly easy fix. Walking between trees, Rory simply hacked off the orange vines until he had a rather large bundle wrapped over his shoulder. Seating himself next to his fire, Rory began splitting the vines into thinner fibers before returning them together. At first glance, it seemed redundant to split already functional vines only to twine them back together. However, during the twining process, Rory remained at a low level of Essence Spark, infusing a hint of his blood essence into the vines. Had Rory not already had a background in biology and months of butchering monsters, he would have begun to feel squeamish as they twined together and seemed to meld into loops of rather fleshy-looking rope vines, the fibers growing what appeared as connective tissue.
Euck. It's gross but probably adequate.
He confirmed it after twining his first vine into a proper restraining rope. Yanking with all his might, the rope seemed entirely unbothered.
Flesh-Vine Rope
Grade: Poor
A regular vine from a Sol's Glory that has been stripped into fibers before forcibly corrupted and infused with blood essence, gaining a flesh attribute.
"Ehh, good enough." Rory shrugged as he examined the rope. He wasn't surprised that the grade was only poor. It was a rather basically crafted item—no special enchantments or high-quality crafting process, just standard fiber twining and liberal application of his totally-not-spooky blood essence affinity. Interestingly, it had taken on a flesh attribute instead of a blood attribute, meaning that his blood essence didn't always operate in a 1-to-1 fashion. However, that was a topic of investigation for a different day. Satisfied that his rope would work for his objective, Rory fashioned several more loops. Thanks to his superhuman capabilities, it took Rory only an hour to prepare ten twines of the Flesh-Vine ropes. Tossing the ropes into a small and crudely made bag- his sewing skills still weren't the greatest- Rory set out for a day of hunting Wascally Wabbits.
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"Where the hell did they all go?" Rory muttered, clambering through the undergrowth of the orange rainforest. Lo and behold, things never went as planned. The issue with the demon rabbits is that ever since more powerful monsters appeared more commonly, they'd begun to behave more like a traditional rabbit.
Which is to say, they were skittish little shits. His last experiment, involving kidnapping a few of the monster rabbits, seemed to have finally pushed them just a hint too far. None of the little clusters he'd marked out before appeared to have any remaining; the monsters had relocated.
"Bullshit. Total bullshit." Rory sighed. He'd been hunting the areas closer to his camp, the areas he'd come to recognize as 'safe' zones; the monsters that would patrol such areas were relatively weak.
Except now they weren't just weak; they were gone.
"Damnit." Rory shook his head. There was only one answer, and the answer was one he didn't like.
He'd have to travel further out.
Like a small fish forced to swim to deeper seas, Rory could only shrug as he traveled further away from his camp. His foot speed was considerably better than his first ascension or two. The journey from his camp to the Maw was roughly fifty percent faster, though it was still a haul. What Rory was doing now was an even longer journey, trees as far as the eye could see as he grew increasingly far from his now distant camp.
Five hours later, Rory finally came to a stop. If you asked him what had changed, well….
Not much. Hills came and went, large slopes, small slopes, valleys, and lazy-looking brooks. With all those slight deviations, it always remained within the backdrop of the orange rainforest.
Stupid freaking rabbits.
Closer to his camp, Rory felt like he could wander with relative impunity, but now he felt like he was strutting on eggshells. He'd seen tier-three monsters on the prowl on more than one occasion. One, two, or even three weren't something he couldn't handle, but at one point, he was forced to hide under a bush, holding his breath as a pack of dozens of tier-three ants marched through the growth ahead of him, looking like ants the size of poodles that had been bathed in shiny looking metal. If he were higher tier or better equipped, Rory would have considered trying to nab one of the metallic bugs and investigating their armor. Still, as he was now, Rory had no desire to mess with them.
C'mon. Somewhere, right?
Nearing the extent of how far Rory was willing to journey, he froze when he spotted something. A mark he recognized, the familiar indent of a small-clawed paw against a tree.
Bingo!
Slowly tracking a path through the thick undergrowth, Rory finally overlooked a small crater. As for why there was a crater randomly in the forest?
That's because the direct center was an opening leading into a den of furry little demons.
"Holy shit," Rory muttered. All around the entrance were jackalopes, not just the young jackalopes or even the neophytes he'd killed. No, these jackalopes were surrounded by a purple haze, a crown of antlers atop their heads as they floated.
Not a chance.
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A quick analysis gave Rory the details on the new form of jackalope.
Jackalope- Nursery Guard
Level: 40
The advanced form of a jackalope, their mastery of spatial magic has reached their maximum potential for the monster genotype. While the magical conductivity of their antlers remains unchanged, their fully grown crest allows for the manipulation and direction of larger volumes of Pneuma.
"Yeah, not a chance." Rory sighed. He'd finally found his prime target, only to find it far more heavily defended than he had any shot at cracking through. He'd have to find a new target, perhaps one of those-
What was that?
Rory's breath froze in his chest, every instinct screaming at him to be still. Hiding as best as he could within the shadows of some bushes and trees, Rory watched, unmoving. It appeared he wasn't the only one to sense something amiss; the jackalopes were suddenly on high alert. All around them, the air began to vibrate with void-like magic, a miasma of space-deleting energy. It was the most magic Rory had seen manifested in his entire time on the planet; Rory felt as if he even stepped foot in the vicinity, he'd find his body corroded by the magic.
Yet it didn't matter.
Like a crashing meteorite, the area exploded as a streak of color crashed into the crater, expanding it. The space magic had zero effect, as within seconds, several jackalopes were dead, ripped apart by…
Is that a damn armadillo?
An armadillo the size of a large wolf was tearing apart the rabbits as if they were, well, rabbits. Calling the monster an armadillo didn't do the monster justice; it was like a miniature Godzilla with glowing dorsal plates and everything. Every time a jackalope began to muster magic, the spinal plates would glow, sucking up the purple miasma-like magic as if it were no more dangerous than a pleasant breeze.
Taking a risk that probably wasn't the wisest in hindsight, Rory examined the new monster, holding back a gasp as he did.
Tyrant of Earth and Scales- Territory Alpha
Level: 61
A powerful monster born of the earth and the ferocity of the deep fires, the Tyrant of Earth and Scales is a uniquely powerful monster variant. Its scales can draw in Pneuma, nourishing its growth.
Bonus Objective: Defeat Territory Alpha to unlock full future Settlement possibilities.
Rory blinked in surprise, taking in the information.
Territory Alpha? What's that?
The answer was somewhat clear: it was the Alpha monster of a territory. It just so happened that this monster was the Alpha of the territory where Rory's settlement belonged.
How large is a territory considered?
Another valid question, but probably the least important, given the reality Rory was staring at.
It's tier fucking six.
Ignoring the Iasilisk that Rory had been tested against, the Territory Alpha was by far the most powerful monster he'd encountered, more so than even the monster from within the Maw, that much, he was sure. Hell, its description even went out of its way to notify him that it was a 'uniquely powerful' variant.
What does variant even mean in this context?
These questions were worth considering when he wasn't separated by only a few dozen feet from the rampaging monster. The Nursery Guard jackalopes tried their hardest, but it was about as fruitful as a bunch of toddlers punching a professional boxer; their magic did nothing but feed the beast. Within seconds, the last of the guards were dead.
Rory thought perhaps the excitement had passed, but he was dead wrong. Within seconds, the ground began to rumble, and a white streak erupted from the earth, hovering several feet before the Tyrant.
Risking another analysis, Rory took in the newcomer.
Wolpertinger
Level: 52
The pinnacle of the Caerbannog family. It has evolved even past the realm of the jackalope, gaining power and wisdom. While similar in stature to a Jackalope Nursery Guard, the crest of antlers has converted into a single set of thick curling horns.
It was good that Rory hadn't tried his luck with the Jackalope Nursery Guards, as the Wolpertinger was apparently only willing to appear once they'd been slain. Whether it was the head 'guard' of the nest or perhaps the ruler was something Rory found himself momentarily intrigued by. Aside from the horns, which had changed to look like a set of ram horns, its clawed paws now resembled the hooves of an elk, and it even had wings like a falcon emerging from its fluffy white back.
All in all, it was about as intimidating and majestic as a rabbit monster could be. Floating in front of the Tyrant, the two remained still for another second or two before, in a blur of movement, they began. The Wolpertinger was like an icy comet, streaking through the air too fast for Rory to track properly; his eyes were constantly being tricked by afterimages instead. Spears of void-colored ice bombarded the Tyrant. Giving credit to the Wolpertinger, it was the first time Rory saw it take any damage, the spears of space ice carving minor cuts into its armored body.
Minor cuts were far and away enough from besting the tier-six Territory Alpha, though. The monster shrugged off the attacks, the wounds barely bothering it. It almost seemed to let the Wolpertinger attack to its heart's content.
No, I think that's precisely what is going on.
Every time one of the magical space-ice spears lanced into the Tyrant, the ice seemed to dwindle, partially siphoned into the Tyrant's body. One by one, the plates covering its back began to glow brighter and brighter.
No… No way.
Watching silently, Rory couldn't deny the childlike glee that began to fill him as he clued in on what was happening.
C'mon, don't blue ball me. Do it!
After another minute of withstanding the magical bombardment, the Tyrant appeared to have had enough, its plates glowing brightly. Eyes locking onto the Wolpertinger, more than capable of tracking the speedster where Rory's eyes had failed, the Tyrant opened its maw, a powerful blue glow from within.
It's doing the thing!
Perhaps the Wolpertinger realized its mistake, veering away as if about to flee, no longer worried about its nest, but its realization was a hundredth of a second too late. Covering itself in a thick layer of magic -whether for defense or escape- the Wolpertinger appeared like an icy comet.
And it didn't matter a damned bit, as it was bathed in what was unmistakenly a blue atomic breath, the Tyrant blasting it with a raging expulsion of energy.
Holy shit! It is a tiny Godzilla!
The blue beam faded after a moment, as did a chunk of forest behind it. The Wolpertinger, which had taken the beam head-on, dropped to the ground, dead. It was little more than charred bones; even the thick layer of magic it had coated itself in had done a diddly squat against the Tyrant.
It was yet another case of Aelia stealing ideas from the old universe, a monster that was just the infringement of the most famous monster movie of all time.
Yet Rory couldn't be mad.
That was so cool!
Quelling his excitement, Rory watched, still hidden. The Tyrant lumbered toward the remains of the Wolpertinger, its jaw snapping out and consuming them. It looked around once or twice before Rory swore it paused, staring directly at him.
And then it left, trudging away, never bothering with the rest of the nest.
Did it notice me? More importantly, did it ignore me?
Rory thought about it for a second. It was a rather chilling thought, one that made sense. It was tier six. What were the chances it had missed Rory? He was hidden by a few bushes, leaves, and shadows cast by the trees overhead.
Yeah, it definitely knew I was here.
The more he thought of it, the more he was sure. The only question was, why? It had rampaged against the rabbit nest and yet seemed not to give a single flying fuck about him.
Wait, I think I know why.
The answer was in its description. It gained its nourishment from absorbing Pneuma. The Jackalopes and the Wolpertinger were perhaps the most magical adept monsters Rory had found. It made sense for a magically hungry Tyrant to only care about snacking on magically dense morsels. Rory, who'd barely invested in Pneuma and wasn't all that talented with it, had probably been about as nutritious to it as a single mouse would be to a human.
In other words, he wasn't worth the effort, as minimal as it would have been for the tier-six Territory Alpha.
Well, lucky me.
Shivering momentarily, Rory waited several minutes. The sounds of the forest slowly returned. It was the sign Rory had been waiting on, a signal that the Tyrant had departed. Once he was sure it was gone, Rory slowly trudged down the side of the enlarged crater, peaking within.
"Lucky me," Rory murmured after a moment.
Inside was a mass of small, fluffy creatures, all missing the antlers of their more dangerous elders.
"Jackpot."
Now, was Rory aware that the optics of what he was doing were terrible? Yes, yes, he was. The now defenseless nest had just lost its most potent defenders, and the monsters remaining were weak and terrified, and now there was yet another predator looking down on them.
Did Rory care?
Not really.
Any pity he had been capable of having for the monster rabbits had been lost long ago when he'd first nearly died to one as a tier one.
What mattered most to Rory was that he'd just been demonstrated the raw power gap between him and monsters only a tier or two above him. He couldn't afford to dawdle. Reaching for his Flesh-Vine ropes, Rory gave them a quick snap, making sure they hadn't degraded -not that he had believed they would have- before glancing down at the undefended nest.
"Sorry about this," Rory said, not meaning it, reaching down to begin his harvest.
Not a Dark Lord, I swear.