Alien Evolution System 7 Humans

The Collector observed the webbing it had drawn up over the den. There were b.l.o.o.d.y stains on it from the goblin that been trapped there in a final attempt to escape. The goblin itself had been consumed – the last of its brethren.

For now, the Collector's next target was to scope out intelligent civilizations on this planet for they posed the greatest potential threat to it, and thus it had extracted all the information it could about the nearby human settlement from the goblins.

From the goblins' memories, it would seem that they, under the leaders.h.i.+p of the hobgoblin, were intending on rallying their forces, calling from other dens further in the jungle, and overrunning the village for their supplies and females.
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The humans of the settlement were at the very early stages of development as a tinkering civilization, just past the stage when they were hunter gatherers to cultivating the land, living off of harvests instead of migratory hunts. There was some semblance of hierarchy and division of labor among the humans, with there being an appointed leader and various laborers, farmers, gatherers, hunters, and warriors.

Their level of technology was low. They worked with pliable plant matter such as wood, building homes with the substance. They had some measure of metal-working, but they did not have the technology to produce refined alloys. There was no technology to speak of. Though these humans utilized tools, they still merely utilized tools as an extension of their strength, not relying on engines or artificial intelligences.

There was one thing that confused the Collector, however. It was the presence of a substance called magic. One of the goblins had a vivid memory of it. A robed human waving its hands and unleas.h.i.+ng a torrent of flame from seemingly nowhere.

The Collector had searched its memory banks long and hard for any technology that the Collective might have encountered that was similar, but in all instances where tinkering species created fire, it was through devices. To simply wave one's extremities and generate flames was not recorded.

The Collector would have to search for more information regarding this phenomenon known as magic. As of now, it was not particularly worried. If this 'magic' only had the power to generate fire, then it was useless. Regular fire and its temperatures was nothing to the Collector's level of organic hyperalloy carapace.

For now, the Collector would head to the human settlement the goblins had planned to attack. It lay an hours run from the den, but it would wait around the settlement outskirts until night came to conduct its hunting and investigations.

The problem with tinkering species, and one of the traits that allowed them to surpa.s.s the limitations of nature, was that they were social, sticking closely together and grouping their efforts when needed. The Collector could not recklessly hunt down humans without expecting some form of group retribution.

Thus it would prowl at night, capturing and interrogating humans. It had already learned the language from the human it had consumed in the den, but if the humans proved to be useless when interrogated, then it would not hesitate to consume them.

With a plan in mind, the Collector used its claws to tear down the webbing at the den's entrance. The blood-soaked silk wafted gently to the ground, letting in rays of light once more. With a swift motion, it hoisted itself up and over the den's entrance and onto the forest floor.

There, a surprise awaited.

A welcome surprise.

Humans.

Four of them. Two females and two males. Three of them were grouped together, while another, a female, stood further back.

The Collector emitted a low growl. It could smell their aggression and fear, the sweat forming on their foreheads, the stench of adrenaline reeking from within their bodies. It extended its claws until they were like daggers. Its antennae stood up straight and alert, sensing every single minute movement from the humans.

"What in the name of the G.o.ds is this? The hobgoblin?" said one of the humans. A male. He wielded a sword. Good musculature. Tall and proportionally built. Garbed in hardened animal skins that protected his vitals. Movements rigid with alarm but relaxed enough to fight if needed.

"Perhaps your eyes need healing at the temple if you mistake this as anything resembling a goblin," said his companion. He was shorter, but more muscled. Wore metal armor all over his body. Wielded what the Collector identified as a spear.

"Miss scribe, do you know what it is?" said the female of the trio. She was shorter and slimmer than the males – a characteristic of human females, it seemed. She had little armor, instead wearing robes. A lengthy stick lay at her hands.

The female at the very back answered. "I haven't the faintest clue." She used some sort of small, stick-like tool to jab at a piece of thin, square-shaped plant matter. "But as adventurers, you lot are prepared for all manners of threat known or unknown, no?"

"Got that d.a.m.n right," said the sword-wielding male. "Gunther, stay in front of me and try and see if the thing's aggressive."

"Feeling a little cowardly, are we Dale?" said the spear-wielder. He inched forwards, spear extended.

"You know there's nothing I love more in this world than tearing apart a rare monster," said the sword-wielder, baring a toothy smile. "But we won't be enjoying our coin as corpses, and you're the one wearing full-plate. I always have to tell you: caution is key."

"And don't forget," said the woman with the stick. "I have you boneheaded fools' backs anyway."

Gunther nodded. "Aye, I can't count how many times I would have been dead without you, fair lady."

"Flirting on the job, are we?" said Dale as he circled the Collector, sword glinting under the sun.

"No, just raised with manners," replied Gunther.

The Collector observed the humans' exchange with interest. They seemed to be a highly social species, communicating with each other well. Their language was complex and it seemed that even the average member of the species had adequate mastery over it. Their ideas were of a relative higher-order, capable of tactical planning under pressure. At a first glance, it would seem they would be good to interrogate.

"Humans," said the Collector.

All the humans froze except the one at the back who continued scratching away at her square of plant fiber.

"It…talks?" said the woman.

"Quiet, Bea," said Dale. "Intelligent monsters shouldn't be insulted. They can be reasoned with. Gunther, back off."

Gunther hesitantly withdrew from the Collector, but his spear was still lowered.

"What is your name, good creature?" asked Dale.

"I require no such thing as a name," said the Collector. "Names are weakness. They signify individuality. The Collective is all that truly matters."

Dale nodded slowly. "I see. Then, good monster-"

"Neither am I monster," replied the Collector. "I sense that in this language, 'monster' connotes a being of inferiority and savagery. I am evolutionarily far beyond your primitive kind."

"A mere monster dares to lord over us?" said Gunther.

The Collector sensed heightened aggression. It stretched out its claws.

"Quiet, Gunther, you b.u.mbling oaf," said Dale. "My apologies, good…creature," he said to the Collector. "We only wish to know why you are here. You see, we were tasked with exterminating the goblins in this very den."

"They are gone. I have consumed all of them," said the Collector.

"The hobgoblin too?" asked Dale.

"The larger variant of the species too."

"Then we have no quarrel with you, good creature," said Dale. "We are merely curious as to where you are going from here."

"A settlement of your kind due north."

Gunther grasped his spear in both hands. "Enough! We are adventurers. We slay monsters, not parlay with them. This beast has made its intentions clear. It wishes to lay waste to our villages. What more must we hear!?"

"Gunther, wait, you impulsive fool!" shouted Dale, but it was too late.

Gunther roared as he sprinted, thrusting the spear outwards to the Collector's stomach.

The Collector did not react. It had a.s.sessed the tensile durability of the weapon and determined it held zero threat. An object of mere wood and soft metal would do nothing. The spear thumped on the Collector's hardened carapace, sliding off of it and screeching out sparks.

Gunther cried out in surprise as he slipped forwards. He had not expected the spear to simply slide off the Collector's armor and his reckless forward momentum, so abruptly halted, ruined his balance.

The Collector grabbed Gunther's helmeted head in its hand. At two and a half meters of raw muscle, the Collector's hand was large enough to wrap around Gunther's helmet and keep it in a vice-like grip.

The Collector raised Gunther off the ground with ease. The human flailed, kicking uselessly at the Collector.

"Bea! Spell! Cast a spell!" shouted Dale.

Bea hastily aimed her staff the Collector and began chanting.

Too late.

The Collector crushed Gunther's helmet like a tin can, turning the soft head within into complete mush. Blood and brains flowed from its fingertips, dripping on the gra.s.s. It tossed Gunther's body aside. It would have liked to question this human, but its aggression proved to be too much.

The other humans, however, seemed more open to negotiation.

The Collector began leisurely walking forwards.

"Eldir!" shouted Bea as she pointed the stick at the Collector. Sparks whirled around the tip of the stick for a second before coalescing into a ball of fire that ejected forwards.

The Collector stuck out its arm and blocked the fireball. It exploded violently, bursting out a torrent of thick flame that momentarily blotted out the Collector's figure in an orange blaze.

"f.u.c.k!" shouted Dale. He pointed at Gunther's body, still twitching, and said to Bea, "Bea, heal him! Quick!"

Bea bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. "I…you know I can't heal that."

Dale roared in rage, stomping the ground. "G.o.ds above," he said. "This was supposed to be easy. A quest for goblins, they said. Those f.u.c.king villagers."

"What was that?" said the Collector as it emerged from the pillar of flame burning behind it. Fires licked its whole body, but they were growing smaller by the moment, unable to burn a single inch of the Collector's durable form. "You, female, how did you generate fire? The explosive force? I do not see a flamethrower on you, nor is there any combustion engine."

It began walking towards the female.

Dale stepped in, sword drawn. "No you don't, you d.a.m.ned monster."

"You tinkering species are so unpredictable. First, you extend me pleasantries, and just seconds later, you are pure aggression." The Collector waved the human male away. "Move. I have no use for you, and your bioma.s.s will provide me little. I must question the female."

"Over my b.l.o.o.d.y corpse," said Dale through gritted teeth. He rushed, aiming up and slas.h.i.+ng at the Collector's head.

The Collector's antennae twitched as it sensed the attack almost before it happened, the sensitive hairs knowing how each and every single one of the humans muscles were twitching and how they would propel, calculating the exact trajectory and arc of its swing. It tilted its head back ever so slightly and caught the blade between its mandibles.

Dale heaved as he tried to get his blade back, but the Collector's grip was too tight. The Collector exerted force in its mandibles and split the blade into two.

"You are useless. Not a threat nor do you have information." The Collector spit the blade out and swiped at the male's head, slicing it into five neat chunks. One of the chunks still held Dale's eyes, still screwed in an angry expression as it landed onto the ground with a b.l.o.o.d.y squelch.

Had these humans fought the Collector when it was at its previous metamorphosis level, then they would have defeated it. But now, they were weak. Nothing but creatures that the Collector would either ask or beat information out from, whichever was more efficient.

"Now, for my questions," said the Collector as it stepped over the male corpse, towards the female.

Bea pointed her staff at the Collector again. "Eldir!"

Another fireball emerged, hitting the Collector straight on. Once more, the Collector walked past the blazing inferno, now much closer to the female.

"Do not run, female," said the Collector. "Your leg muscles are weak. You would be wise to preserve your energy."

The Collector was now right in front of the female, towering over her. It was almost twice her size.

She s.h.i.+vered in fright.

"Tell me, female," said the Collector. "Was it 'magic' you utilized just now?"

The female dropped her staff and clutched at a pendant around her neck. "I will never give up the secrets of the Order, beast," she said weakly.

The Collector bent over, its mandibles grazing her soft, yielding neck. She was pale with fright and shaking so hard her teeth could be heard chattering.

"I am merely asking for information. You tinkering species value sharing information, no?"

"I pledge myself to the Order, and so shall order come to be. I pledge myself against chaos, and so shall order come to be. I pledge myself for the four realms of good, and so shall order come to be."

"What are you saying, human?" said the Collector.

"I pledge myself to the Order…" said Bea, her eyes wild with fear. She chanted out the one thing that gave some small measure of comfort to her fear-riddled mind: the oath she had taken to join the Order of Sorcerers.

The Collector stopped her, grasping its index and thumb fingers around her neck. "Your pulse is dangerously high. Your vitals are out of control. You are in shock, babbling nonsense. You will be of no use to me."

The Collector crushed her neck and tossed her aside. It turned its attention to the last of the humans, the female still scratching away at her trinket.