The Collector moved through the snow for about fifty meters before rapid buildup of ice crystals began to line every seam of its hyperalloy carapace.
The compromise to its movements was not marked, merely calculated at approximately a 5% loss of optimal mobility, but if the Collector ever stopped moving to break the formations of ice, then this percentage would continuously increase.
This was a test on the Collector's part to sense how long it could maintain itself in this environment without its new adaptations.
Several calculations assessed that with the Flametongue Salamander's naturally high internal temperatures complimented by efficient blood flow and some level of insulation from hyperalloy carapace indicated that the Collector would never fully expire to the cold, but it was entirely possible that if it was immobilized that it could find itself encased in ice in a hibernating state.
In other words, the Collector could not afford to hold back on utilizing its heat-based adaptations.
The Collector began to emanate a faint golden light from the orb on its chest. The orb emitted a shimmering aura as bands of golden light began to flicker all around it, expanding outwards and wrapping the Collector almost in a full halo of bioluminescence.
The Collector regulated this light so that it would not be strongly visible past five meters in the extreme weather conditions of raging, snow-packed winds around it.
Then, to compensate for lowered heat output from the light, it activated the external gills from the Flametongue Salamander.
The tendrils of red frilled flesh drooping down from the Collector's back lit up in a flash. All the feathery frills spontaneously ignited, and all their fires merged with each other, forming a swirling pillar of flame.
The Collector's hyperalloy carapace was coated in a magical lipid layer from the Flametongue Salamander that provided long-lasting fuel for the flames, and soon, the fires spread from the Collector's back to all around its entire body.
Thus, the Collector became a walking mass of fire, each tongue of flame further given support by the Firefly Shinchu's light.
Zero compromise now to its mobility. There was no real mana upkeep to this aura of flame. The salamander's pyrophilic lipid layer constantly regenerated.
There was only an initial 10% cost of activation.
>>>
Mana Level: 100>90%
>>>
The Collector slithered forwards, and as it did so, it left a trail of steaming, melted water that quickly froze over again once it left. The snow all around the Collector melted into droplets of water before they even touched it, and when the miniature rain grew too close to the flames, it fizzled away into steam.
Surrounded and wreathed by a constant cloak of flames that danced and raged with the flow of wild winds, the Collector looked intensely unnatural.
Intensely threatening.
An anomaly of nature.
Fire where only ice was supposed to reign.
Heat where only cold had grasped dominion over.
And, strangely, perhaps in a sense of surreal comfort, a lone light where the veil of ever-present snow robbed all of their sight.
This would compromise its stealth to a degree, and yet, the Collector had understood this risk. This area had drastically lower population density of tinkering life forms, and the Collector could not afford to take a form that was less than combat optimized as it began to hunt for stronger and stronger lifeforms to amass its own might.
The Collector traveled for the better part of an hour. This land was vast and largely homogenous. A constant snowscape, though it seemed the harsh weather conditions did lessen as the Collector neared the coordinates of the goblin settlement.
Visibility thus grew to approximately fifty meters, though it seemed that though the intensity of the snowfall and the winds had dropped dramatically here, there was still enough to prevent completely unobscured ocular system functions.
Almost twenty-five minutes to the goblin settlement.
Though, as the Collector's main skull clicked its mandibles, an oddity had emerged.
As the Collector traversed through the night and the winds of winter, certain specimen began to float around it. These specimens were small and numerous and at first notice, could easily have been mistaken for snowflakes.
However, they were quite large, perhaps the size of an average human's hand, and they hovered in a distinct orbit around the Collector, circling around its aura of light and fire.
Approximately ten of them. An additional specimen circled the Collector every ten minutes.
The Collector had analyzed their physical dimensions and found that conventional senses yielded little information about them.
They possessed almost imperceptibly low mass. They glowed a faint shade of blue that differentiated them from snowfall, but otherwise, visually, they were highly similar. The light itself did not seem to emanate from any bioluminescent organ nor was it a byproduct of any heat producing reaction.
These creatures were entirely magical in nature.
Focusing magical energy on the ocular systems of one of the five skulls linked to the Collector's nervous system showed as much.
The Collector clicked the mandibles on its main skull. It would have asked the female daemon specimen what this was, and likely, she would have known.
But she had long since faded away, though still, some shard of her was immortalized in the Collective.
It was up to the Collector to investigate in this unknown environment all that which it did not know.
Swiping with physical attacks did nothing to the creatures.
The Collector did not like to utilize monomolecular claws in this environment for the risk of freezing rendered them even more brittle, but it tried so, swiping at one blue snowflake with its monomolecular arm blade.
The blade sliced through the snowflake, splitting it in half, but it simply reformed a moment later.
Quite similar in principle to the hobgoblin thrall's intangibility, but far more advanced.
They were impossible even to consume, for they seemed to hold no tangible form to devour and break down despite possessing a modicum of mass.
Quite interesting.
The Collector could sense that there was some minute form of life in these creatures, but they were likely nearly brainless, completely devoid of higher thinking and acting like automata to certain stimuli.
To what stimuli, however? This, the Collector hypothesized was the heat or light it generated.
Then what would the consequences be of these specimens orbiting the Collector? It did not take too long to find out.
Soon, when the Collector was ten minutes from the goblin settlement, one of the blue snowflakes surrounding the Collector detached from its orbit, floating away into the distance.
Minutes later, the snowflake came back, and following it was a frostborn hobgoblin.
A male specimen. Thoroughly deteriorated in condition. Even with his white, cold-resistant skin, he shivered, holding his arms together in an inefficient gesture to preserve warmth.
"Fire…fire," said the hobgoblin as he narrowed his blue eyes, reaching an eager hand out to the bonfire rising in the distance, rising through the snow. He did not want to let go of this warmth, not when he had been lost so long in the storm.
But he knew the elder's teachings. Follow the Snow Sprites, and they lead you to warmth. He smiled as he reached out to the fire in the distance.
A big fire, it looked like. Maybe it was a camp. There were no humans here. Maybe it was a camp meant to search for him.
But…but the fire moved towards him.
Fast.
His eyes widened and he trembled, frozen in fear as the fire grew great and large before his eyes, and through the curtain of fire, the glowing yellow eye sockets of six skulls stared down at him.
The Collector pointed at the frostborn hobgoblin. The hobgoblin was utterly frozen in fear, but even if it had run, it would have never been able to escape the Collector.
"Do not move," said the Collector, an echo underlining its voice as it channeled the Goblin Lord's Primal Magic.
Higher Calling, it was called.
The capacity to imbue the projected voice with magic that completely controlled the mental processes of goblins. All it took was for any goblin specimen to hear the Collector's command once, and they would be under the Collector's permanent bidding.
The hobgoblin stopped moving, even shivering, and just stared blankly ahead.
"What are these specimens?" said the Collector as it pointed with one of its four arms to the many blue snowflakes dancing around it.
"They are Snow Sprites," said the hobgoblin simply.
Too much like an automaton. For the specimen to operate more effectively, it had to possess more of its own will.
Perhaps this could be adjusted.
The Collector made the necessary fine tuning to the output of mana it utilized for Higher Calling and commanded the hobgoblin once more.
"Tell me what these specimens do," asked the Collector again.
The hobgoblin nodded and knelt in the snow; his white-skinned figure lit up by the aura of flames raging from the Collector standing in front of him.
"Lord," said the hobgoblin in acknowledgement. "Snow Sprites lead to warmth. Help us when we get lost. Elder always says to follow them when we get lost. I lost."
"Is there a way to destroy these specimens?" The Collector opened a fiery palm up, and a Snow Sprite landed upon it, seemingly enjoying the flaming heat while being unaffected by it.
"I-I not know," said the hobgoblin with a fearful quiver of his lip. "Only elder knows stuff like that."
"An elder, you say?" The Collector mused at the possibilities. 'Elder' denoted a title signifying age and, likely, knowledge. Yes, this 'elder' would prove useful under the Collector's command.
The entire goblin settlement would. But there was simply the matter of securing the settlement completely, to place them all under the Collector's dominion with no chance for fleeing stragglers.
"Do you hold any position of significance in your social group?" asked the Collector.
Higher Calling seemed to possess some similarities with psionic communication, simplifying the Collector's words into intent that the hobgoblin could understand.
"I am strong warrior. Went out to hunt frost bear. Got lost. Many looking for me, I think." The hobgoblin nodded to himself. "Yes, I important."
"Will they listen to your words? Your commands?" said the Collector.
"Most," said the hobgoblin. "Champion, no, he won't listen to me. Beat me instead if I tell him what to do."
The Collector's main skull clicked its mandibles. It formulated a plan. "That is sufficient information. You will inform me of the numbers in your social group, the dimensions of their settlement, and their orientation as we move."
"Go home now? To warmth?" said the hobgoblin with hope in his eyes as he stared at the Collector with nothing but admiration where once before there had been nothing but fear.
One pair of the Collector's eyes shone down on the goblin.
"Yes," said the Collector.
Comments