Chapter 19: Market Saturation
"Glory has zero market value in a graveyard," I say, my membrane shimmering with a dark, dangerous light that reflects the stagnant marsh water. "Rimuru, the diplomacy phase is over. He's a bad investment. We move to a hostile takeover of the defense plan."
Gabil gapes at me, his lizard brain seemingly stuck in a loop of indignation and terror. Around us, his "fan club" of Lizardmen has gone deathly silent. The [Transaction Domain] makes the humid air feel like a pressurized boardroom, and I am the auditor they didn't see coming.
"Y-you can't just..." Gabil stammers, but his voice dies as Benimaru steps forward, his red hair flickering like a warning light.
"Shinji is right," Benimaru says, his voice a low, burning ember. "While you barked, the scent of the swarm has changed. They are close. If we don't move now, this swamp becomes a mass grave."
Suddenly, the treeline to the south—the area my system flagged as the "flanking maneuver"—erupts. It isn't the sound of birds or wind; it's a wet, rhythmic thumping of thousands of boots in the muck.
Notice. High-density magicule signatures detected. The Orc vanguard has successfully bypassed the Lizardman forward pickets. Deployment: Pincer movement. Estimated units in immediate engagement zone: 5,000.
"There's no time for a board meeting," I pulse, my voice cutting through Gabil's mounting panic. "Rimuru, give the order. I'm going to go collect some data on our competitors."
"Right! Ranga, lead the Goblins to the left flank! Benimaru, take the Kijin and break that center line!" Rimuru shouts, his blue body tensing for combat.
I don't wait for a reply. I [Spatial Motion] myself a hundred yards into the thick of the southern marsh.
The sight is... visually offensive. Thousands of Orcs, their grey skin stretched over bloated, unnatural muscles, are wading through the reeds. They don't look like soldiers; they look like a biological plague. Their eyes are milky, devoid of anything but the raw, terrifying hunger that defines their species.
Notice. [Starving] trait observed in active state. It is a group-wide Unique Skill effect that allows them to consume and integrate the strengths of their prey. Suggestion: Replicate and analyze to find a vulnerability in the Orc Lord's command structure.
Azathoth, you want me to copy 'hunger'? I've already got a high-maintenance lifestyle; I don't need a tapeworm that eats magicules. But if it gives us the key to liquidating this army, I'll take the risk.
An Orc blurs toward me, its rusted meat-cleaver raised. It's moving with a speed that shouldn't be possible for a creature of its bulk—a clear side-effect of whatever it ate for lunch.
[Transaction Domain]
The Orc freezes mid-swing, the atmospheric pressure of my domain pinning its feet into the swamp mud. I float forward, making contact with its damp, grey forehead.
[Law Manipulation – Copy]
Acquiring Unique Skill trait: [Starving]... Success. Warning: Soul Capacity usage has increased by 7.5%. Current Total: 26%. This skill is high-complexity due to its conceptual nature.
Ugh. I feel... empty. Not the 'I missed lunch' empty, but a hollow, gnawing void in my magicule core. It's inefficient. It's loud. It's like having a Deadpool commentary track dedicated entirely to bacon.
Analysis. [Starving] creates a magicule-based hunger that bypasses standard digestion. It is linked to the 'Orc Lord' as the central processor. By analyzing the frequency of this hunger, User can track the Orc Lord's exact coordinates through the swamp.
"Found you," I pulse. The gnawing void in my core is acting like a compass, pulling my attention toward the heart of the marshland where a magicule signature of terrifying proportions is currently 'eating' the forest's ambient energy.
I look back. The Lizardman camp is in chaos, but Benimaru and the others are already carving a path through the vanguard. The Kijin are moving like surgical scalpels, while Rimuru is providing the "bulk" with wide-range attacks.
"Rimuru," I transmit, the [Starving] trait making my telepathy feel strangely jagged. "I have the Orc Lord's 'IP address.' He's at the center of the swarm, feeding on the collective hunger of his units. We need to cut the head off this operation before they consume the entire coalition."
"Got it, Shinji! But we're a bit busy with the 5,000 guys in front of us!"
"Don't worry about the overhead," I reply, my obsidian membrane shimmering as I prepare another jump. "I'll handle the reconnaissance. Just make sure the Goblins don't get eaten while I'm away. I haven't seen a return on their training yet."
I [Spatial Motion] again, deeper into the dark, wet heart of the war.
Current Magicule Reserves: 95.8%. Location: Inner Marshland. Soul Capacity: 26% (Warning: Conceptual traits increase stabilization load). Status: Tracking the Orc Lord.
Chapter End.