With the scouts gone and the city under construction, a strange peace settled over Sector 6.

Red spent his time optimizing. He bought a [ SANITATION BLUEPRINT ] (1,000 DP) to ensure the waste was directed into the Fungal Deep (a petty insult to the Mycelium Queen, and practical).

He bought [ BASIC LITERACY ] (5,000 DP) and began teaching Krug the runic alphabet so he could read the System messages Red sent without vague whispers.

He watched the daily life of his civilization.

He saw the Grey-Fins farming the fish in the lake. He saw the Mud-Skippers weaving baskets and nets, trading them with the Kobolds for iron tools. He saw the Kobolds mining the cliff, expanding the tunnels, piling up ore for the weekly trade with Gorr.

It was a functioning economy.

Red sat in his Void, eating a piece of Mana-Hardtack (which tasted slightly better now that his followers were happy).

“It feels… real,” Red murmured.

He looked at his [ CAUSALITY CHARGE ]. It had been 3 days since the Hydra fight. [ CHARGE: 700% ]

He looked at the [ FRAGMENT OF THE FORGOTTEN ] buried beneath the temple.

He decided to leave it alone. For now.

He checked the [ SOCIAL ] tab. Gorr was [ ONLINE ].

Red hesitated, then decided against calling. He didn’t need anything, and calling just to chat was weak.

Instead, he looked at the [ PANTHEON RANKINGS ] which had finally unlocked the bottom tier.

[ REGIONAL RANKING (SECTOR 6-8) ]

1) Gorr (Rank 4) – Influence: High.

2) The Rotting Druid (Rank 3) – Influence: Medium.

3) Rubedo (Rank 3) – Influence: Rising.

“The Rotting Druid,” Red noted the name. “That must be the neighbor to the South.”

He zoomed in on the Southern Map, where Moss-Eye’s team was heading. The fog of war was thick there, swirling with a sickly green mist.

“Be careful, Moss-Eye,” Red whispered. “We aren’t the only ones playing the game.”

—

–

.

Four more days passed in Sector 6.

Red hovered over the [ CITY OF BASTION ]. The zoning plan had worked. The tension between the species had evaporated now that they had their own districts. The Grey-Fins stayed in the water, the Kobolds in the caves, and the Mud-Skippers in the hanging nests.

Red checked his [ CAUSALITY CHARGE ].

It had been four days since the construction began. [ PREVIOUS CHARGE: 700% ]

[ DAILY ACCUMULATION: +100% x 4 ]

[ CURRENT CHARGE: 1100% ]

He felt the energy thrumming in the interface. He had eleven “bullets” of maximum output loaded in the chamber.

He checked his [ FAITH ]. The daily income from 200 satisfied followers, plus the bonuses from the [ LUNAR SPRING NODE ], had piled up.

[ ACCUMULATED FAITH: 12,500 ]

“Time to cash in,” Red said.

He hit the [ CONVERT ] button.

[ CONVERTING: 12,500 FAITH ]

[ STANDARD RATE (100:1): +125 BASE DP ]

[ TRAIT ACTIVATED: 100x GROWTH ]

[ CALCULATION: 125 x 100 ]

[ TOTAL DP GAINED: 12,500 ]

[ CURRENT DP: 171,400 ]

“1:1 ratio,” Red noted, satisfied with the numbers. “As long as I have my SSS trait active, I’m printing money.”

The obsidian slab pinged.

[ ALERT: SCOUT REPORT (WEST) ]

[ UNIT: SWIFT-TAIL ]

[ STATUS: DIPLOMATIC ENCOUNTER ]

Red tapped the notification. The view zoomed away from the city, flying West over the dense, toxic canopy of the deep swamp.

Meanwhile, Swift-Tail and his squad (two Grey-Fins and a Mud-Skipper translator) were standing on a ridge of calcified root, looking down into a muddy valley.

Below them, the swamp was different. The water here wasn’t black; it was a swirling, oily purple. And trudging through the muck were massive, dome-shaped rocks.

Though, they weren’t rocks. They were Iron-Back Tortoises.

[ SPECIES DETECTED: SHELL-KIN (IRON-BACK VARIANT) ]

→ Rank: D (High Defense).

→ Population: ~40.

→ Traits: Solitary, Herbivore, Armored.

They were tanky. A single one of them was the size of a small car. But they looked miserable.

Red zoomed in. The purple water was acidic. It was eating away at their shells. The “Iron-Backs” were pitted and scarred, their soft flesh underneath exposed to the biting flies of the swamp. They were huddled together, not for warmth, but to scrape the parasites off each other’s backs.

Swift-Tail stepped down from the ridge.

The largest Tortoise, an Elder with moss growing in the cracks of his shell, hissed. He didn’t charge. He just tucked his head inside his shell, turning into an impenetrable boulder.

“We bring God to you. We bring peace!” Swift-Tail shouted, holding up a piece of dried hydra meat. “And food!”

The Tortoise’s head popped out slowly. He sniffed the meat. Then he spat.

“Meat… bad,” the Tortoise rumbled. The voice was slow, deep, and sounded like grinding stones. “We eat… rot-moss.”

Swift-Tail blinked. The diplomacy of “Free Meat” had failed.

These guys were vegans.

“We have moss!” Swift-Tail improvised. “Better moss! And… protection!”

“Protection?” The Tortoise laughed, a wheezing sound. “I am a rock. I need no spear. I need… no itch.”

He rubbed his pitted shell against a tree, groaning in discomfort. ” The rain burns. The water bites. Can your God stop the itch?”

Swift-Tail looked up at the sky, unsure.

Red watched from the Void. “They have parasites,” Red analyzed. “And the acid rain is eroding their armor. They don’t need a warrior God. They need a dermatologist.”

Red checked his Blueprints. He didn’t have a cure for “Acid Rot.” But he had [ REPLICATE MATTER ].

“I can’t replicate a cure I don’t have,” Red muttered. “But I can replicate the ideal condition.”

He focused on the Tortoise Elder.

“System. Target the Shell.”

[ TARGET LOCKED: ERODED IRON-SHELL ]

Red looked at his charge. He had 1100%. He didn’t need to nuke the turtle. He needed to restore it.

“I’ll use a fraction,” Red decided. “Let’s test the [ RESTORATION ] application of the Growth trait.”

“Output: 200x.” “Concept: Calcification / Hardening.”

[ COST: 2,000 DP ]

[ CHARGE REMAINING: 900% ]

Red snapped his fingers.

A wave of golden light washed over the Elder Tortoise. It didn’t heal the flesh; it accelerated the growth of the shell. The pitted, scarred iron of the creature’s back bubbled and surged. In seconds, the cracks filled in. The rust flaked away, replaced by gleaming, dark grey organic steel. The parasites living in the cracks were crushed or suffocated by the rapid growth of the new armor.

The Elder Tortoise froze. The itching and burning had stopped. He felt heavy, solid, and unbreakable.

He extended his legs, standing to his full height. He tapped his beak against his own foreleg armor.

CLINK.

“The itch…” the Elder whispered. “Gone. The shell… strong.”

The other 39 tortoises poked their heads out, staring at their leader who now looked like a shiny new tank amidst a junkyard.

Swift-Tail seized the moment. “Ka-lam-tee repairs!” he shouted. “Join us! The water in Bastion is clear! The moss is sweet! And the itch never returns!”

The Elder Tortoise looked at Swift-Tail. Then he looked at his herd.

“We walk,” the Elder decided. “To the clean water.”

[ DIPLOMACY SUCCESS ]

[ NEW FOLLOWERS: +40 SHELL-KIN ]

[ ROLE: HEAVY INFANTRY / SIEGE BREAKERS ]

Red smiled. “Tanks acquired.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep