Chapter 4: Hobgoblin Hunt

The Collector watched from above, keeping absolutely still as it watched the den. It hid itself in a thicket of leaves amidst a tree overlooking the den, and it had watched for an entire day, from last night to this night, moving only to track the den's denizens.

It could regulate its metabolic processes to a slowed state such that it almost never had to eat or drink, and its bodily processes were absolutely efficient to the point where nothing it consumed was excreted as waste.

These combined traits were what originally allowed it to traverse the vast, empty reaches of space unafflicted by weaknesses such as hunger or thirst.

The Collector observed there was a large pit in the ground from where the goblins routinely went in and out, carrying food, sticks, rocks, and leaves.

Every so often, 'Draug' would emerge.

He was two meters tall, heavily muscled, and more built for combat than the goblins. A quick visual analysis indicated dense bones, thick limbs, and elongated tusks that jutted from his mouth.

His overall structure, however, was similar to that of his goblin kin, with the same yellow, beady eyes and blackened skin.

Presumably, his vitals were the same as well, for it seemed that they were all part of the same evolutionary branch of creatures.

The Collector memorized Draug and the goblins' patterns of movement.

The goblins made routine trips out to secure food and Draug occasionally came with them to hunt larger prey.

The movement of the goblins was relatively random, which was expected considering there were twenty of them. There would always be variables as to where they were.

However, there were two important details of note worth.

Draug himself had set patterns to his movement. Every so often, he would isolate himself from the goblins to go to his own personal watering hole with clearer water than that the common goblins drank from.

Here, he would drink and then expel excretions before returning to the den.

In addition, the goblins were nocturnal, sleeping during the day, but Draug was active both day and night.

The Collector clicked its mandibles as it settled on its ambush plan. It would ambush Draug when he left for water at noon, when daylight was bright, and his goblin entourage was sleeping.

Early the next morning, the Collector laid its ambush. It went to Draug's watering hole and extracted as much Striped Centipede and Jungle Spider venom as it could from its jaws, pooling it into the water and mixing it.

The toxic liquid, iridescent blue with hints of green, dripped into the clear pond, clouding it just a little.

The venom from both insects was not particularly strong, unable to kill even a goblin in normal doses, but at the mass quantities the Collector could produce significantly larger than any little bug, it was enough to kill a goblin or slow down Draug.

Then the Collector weaved spots of thick webbing around the watering hole, being careful to avoid the well-worn path that Draug used and ensuring they were not noticeable.

In the chaos of battle, Draug would have to move away from this path, and here he would find webbing to tangle his feet.

The Collector laid in wait, high up in a tree above the watering hole. This next victim would prove to be a challenge, but a worthy one.

No doubt it would provide enough biomass to ascend to the next Metamorphosis Level.

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Just ten minutes shy of noon, when the sun hung low in the sky, Draug came.

The Collector tensed its muscles, readying to pounce as it tracked Draug's every move.

Draug stumbled forwards, yawning as he absent-mindedly scratched his genitals through a dirt-brown loincloth. Alarmingly, he dragged a wooden club behind him – this was outside the Collector's calculations.

The club was brutish, roughly carved from a tree trunk with splintering spikes left at the end to gore any unlucky victims. It was no gravitron mace, but at the Collector's current state, it was still a threat.

Draug's muscles rippled as he knelt by the pond, cupping some of the water and greedily shoving it in his mouth. He took a single gulp of water before he started coughing, spitting out the rest.

The Collector took note. By its calculations, it determined that Draug had taken in a dosage of venom not strong enough to immobilize him, but still potent enough to give him a general sense of numbness and slow down his movements.

It waited now for an opportunity to strike. It had to make sure everything went perfectly to compensate for Draug's club.

Draug took an angry look at the water and punched it. A great splash of water erupted upwards – a testament to his strength. Having vented enough immediate rage, he turned around with intent to order his goblins to find more water.

However, the precise second Draug turned his back, the Collector struck, using its powerful rabbit legs to eject itself down from the trees like a missile. It had its spider-limbs stuck forwards like blades, aiming to impale through the hobgoblin's heart to end things in an instant.

Surprisingly, Draug had the reactions to turn around.

However, he did not have time to swat the Collector away, only to cross his arms to defend against impact.

The Collector adjusted its angle of attack mid-air to adjust for the sudden defense for now Draug protected his heart with his burly arms.

The Collector twisted, angling its descent a little further downwards, and pierced straight through Draug's right thigh, aiming for maximal immobilization if it could not ensure a lethal initial blow.

Before Draug could retaliate, the Collector withdrew its spider-limbs and leaped backwards by pushing off the hobgoblin's body.

The Collector flicked blood on its claws away and onto the grass, eyeing the hobgoblin intently, analyzing, hunting.

Draug roared in pain, one hand clutching at his now useless right leg and another wildly swinging the club, swatting at empty air.

The Collector had severed exactly the tendons and muscles required for leg movement in one fell, surgical swoop.

"Curse you!" said Draug, spittle frothing from his mouth. He tried to stand, but the best he could do was awkwardly limp, unable to put any weight on his right side.

The Collector did not respond, nor could it due to a lack of vocal cords. Its eight eyes focused on Draug, looking only for any weaknesses to exploit. His right side was open.

Any attacks from there would be difficult for the hobgoblin to retaliate against. It would also force him to put more pressure on his right leg, speeding up his already profuse bleeding.

"What are you!?" said Draug through heavy breaths. "You…monster? No, you not monster I see before. You must be human's pet. Human's monster!"

The Collector used Draug's wasted effort in shouting as a moment to attack, pouncing to Draug's right side and striking at his throat with a clawed spider limb.

It felt a surge of anger to even be considered the pet of a lowly tinkering race such as a human, but the anger, like any of the emotions it could feel, did not cloud it, but honed its movements.

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Draug, however, was surprisingly quick, using his one good leg to push backwards to narrowly dodge the swipe. It was evident that he was used to combat, his movements sharpened and trained.

The Collector recalculated the movements necessary to hit Draug.

An expression of surprise came upon Draug's face as he moved back, past his familiar trail, and stepped on a mass of webbing with his one good foot. He lost balance, toppling over backwards.

The Collector leaped into the air and landed on Draug's chest, aiming to use its powerful mandibles to sever his throat entirely.

Draug, however, was quick and devastatingly strong. He reacted to the Collector's bite, quickly using his free hand to grab one of the Collector's mandibles before it could close on his throat.

With a guttural grunt, Drag ripped off the mandible entirely.

The Collector did not flinch or react. Such movements were inefficient.

It registered damage and took to a more wary approach. It moved downwards a bit, dodging an attempt by Draug to grab it, and placed its sizable, full weight on the hobgoblin's damaged leg to keep him on the ground.

Then the Collector's six arachnid arms, their sharp, clawed tips exposed, savagely began tearing into Draug.

Death by a thousand cuts.

Draug screamed in pain as he covered his face and chest with his arms, trying to preserve his vitals.

However, the Collector was a surgeon, and this was its operating table.

Its attacks, fast and savage as they were, were not wild.

They were precise, every single one meant calculated and meant to inflict as much damage as possible, cutting at tendons and major blood vessels.

One swipe punctured a lung, finding the soft tissue through ribs. Draug shifted his arms instinctively lower to defend himself, leaving one half of his face open for a split second.

Enough time for a limb to skewer out his left eye.

Every single tiny movement the hobgoblin wasted and every single instance of pain that slowed it were openings for the Collector to abuse.

With a final burst of strength reserved only to those knowing death was near, Draug roared and abandoned his defense, reaching for his club and swinging it. The Collector immediately swerved backwards, but Draug's attack inflicted some measure of damage.

Following a sickening crunch, three of the Collector's arachnid limbs sailed through the air, landing on the forest floor still twitching and oozing blackish-green blood from their dismembered tips.

The Collector could feel pain, but not enough to adversely affect it. Just enough to let it know that damage had been inflicted. Any more pain would have been useless, and anything useless biologically had long been cut away from it.

Draug groaned weakly. He was bleeding from dozens of cuts, all of them arguably lethal, and sprays of arterial red spurted from his thigh and several ruptured blood vessels.

The Collector circled Draug's prone and weak body. It was cautious, not willing to enter his attack range.

Even though Draug was soon to bleed to death, it did not want to risk any form of retaliation that might have injured it. That was one of the primary laws of a predator – take no risk.

Among predators and prey, if prey could inflict even a single crippling wound, then the meal was not worth it.

Draug made several attempts to attack, weakly lunging forwards or trying to swing its club.

Each time, the Collector simply leaped backwards just enough to dodge before circling again like a vulture waiting for its weakened carrion to slump over.

Eventually, Draug knelt in grass drenched in his blood, breath wheezing from his damaged lung. He struggled to keep his eyes open and his body shook, resisting shock from blood-loss.

"Kill me," gurgled out Draug.

The Collector kept circling.

"Kill me!"

The Collector ignored Draug. It wondered why the creature was so eager for death. All it had to do was be patient.

Draug grunted in defeat and acceptance of death, letting go of his club and using both arms to try and turn to his side to bleed out with a little more comfort.

The Collector saw Draug give up the club and struck once more, knowing that it was now risk free to attack. It skewered a spider limb through the oversized goblin's empty eye socket, scrambling the soft brain beneath it.

The Collector was impressed. Draug had been a worthy foe to its current state.

Collectors were created with a combat-oriented mindset that found value in battle and consuming strong opponents. This was the most compatible independent personality for a life of endless battle, of fighting and consuming the strongest and best genetic material across the cosmos.

In contrast, a biological robot programmed only to consume would not have the independent thought to adapt to battle situations and find itself outmaneuvered by the ingenuity of tinkering, spacefaring races.

That was why when the Collector consumed Draug, it did so relatively slowly, cutting into the hobgoblin's body with slow, measured slices to enjoy the flavor. It wished to savor the taste of an enemy that had managed to wound it.

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*Biomass gained (+50)*

Biomass Level: 100/100

*Genetic Material Gained*

-Black Goblin

-Black Hobgoblin

-Black Ant

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As predicted, the Black Hobgoblin, being powerful, large, and somewhat intelligent, granted an immense amount of biomass capable of allowing the Collector to reach its next stage of evolution.

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