The Kobolds tore into the mound of meat with a desperation that overrode all social order. There was no sharing, no rationing. They shoved chunks of raw flesh into their maws, swallowing without chewing, their bellies distending visibly.

Red watched from above. He felt the Faith pouring into him—not as a trickle, but as a deluge. Every bite they took was a prayer. Every swallow was an affirmation of his existence.

[ FAITH GAINED: +10 ]

[ TRAIT ACTIVATED: 100x GROWTH ] [ TOTAL: +1,000 ]

[ FAITH GAINED: +15 ]

[ TRAIT ACTIVATED: 100x GROWTH ] [ TOTAL: +1,500 ]

The numbers climbed violently. 155,000… 160,000… 165,000.

But as the counter ticked past a threshold, the obsidian slab in front of Red began to whine. It wasn’t a mechanical noise he expected coming from the console; it was the high-pitched keen of a violin string being pulled until it was about to snap. The golden text of the [ 100x GROWTH ] trait started to flicker, turning from gold to a dull, overheated crimson.

[ WARNING: CAUSALITY STRAIN DETECTED ]

Red pulled his hand back. “What?”

A new window popped up, blocking the live feed.

[ SYSTEM LIMITATION: DIVINE CAPACITOR EMPTY ]

→ Analysis: Your SSS-Rank Trait forces the universe to yield 100 times the natural output. This creates friction in reality.

→ Effect: The “Multiplier” operates on a charge basis. You have discharged a massive miracle.

→ Status: Recharging…

→ Current Multiplier: 1x (Standard).

→ Time to Full Charge: 23 Hours, 59 Minutes. (Note: Charge is continuous. Multiplier scales with available energy.)

Red stared at the timer. “I see.”

He didn’t scream or curse. He analyzed. It made sense. The System wasn’t nerfing him arbitrarily; it was a circuit breaker. Manipulating matter at 100x efficiency generated too much entropy. If he fired again immediately, the localized reality of Sector 6 wouldn’t just glitch; it would unravel into a black hole of paradox.

“One bullet a day,” Red muttered, looking at the greyed-out icon. “I have one God-tier move every twenty-four hours. The rest of the time, I have to play by the rules.”

He looked back down at the feast. He had used his bullet. Now he had to make sure it stuck.

On the platform, the feeding frenzy was slowing down. But something was happening to the Kobolds. The meat they were eating was created by Divine Energy, magnified a hundredfold. It wasn’t just protein; it was distinct, concentrated fuel.

The Chieftain, who had eaten the most, dropped to his knees. He gasped, clutching his chest. His scales, previously dull and grey, began to darken, turning the color of polished obsidian. His muscles rippled under his skin, snapping the leather straps of his loincloth. He grew three inches in ten seconds.

[ EVENT: FOLLOWER EVOLUTION ]

[ SUBJECT: KOBOLD CHIEFTAIN ]

[ RACE UPGRADE: BLACK-MUD RUNT → BLACK-SCALE WARRIOR ] (Cause: Ingestion of High-Density Divine Matter)

The Chieftain roared. It wasn’t a weak croak anymore. It was a reptilian bellow that silenced the swamp. He stood up, gripping his rusted iron cleaver. The weapon looked small in his hand now.

He looked up at the shadow Totem. His eyes were no longer yellow; they were burning with a faint violet rim—the color of Red’s mana.

“Strong,” the Chieftain rasped. He looked at his claws, then at his tribe. The others were changing too—scales hardening, tails thickening. The starvation bloat vanished, replaced by wiry, predatory muscle.

The Chieftain turned to the shadow. He slammed his fist against his chest.

“Name?” the Chieftain asked. “God… name?”

Red paused. He hadn’t thought about a name. “The Terrorist’s Son” was a brand. “Red” was a nickname for a nobody.

He looked at the decay around him. He looked at the system that called him a parasite.

‘I AM CALAMITY,’ Red projected.

“Ka-lam-tee,” the Chieftain tested the word. It sounded dangerous. He liked it.

“Hail Ka-lam-tee!” The Chieftain raised his weapon.

The tribe shrieked in unison. “Hail!”

[ FAITH ESTABLISHED: THE TRIBE OF BLACK MUD ]

[ CURRENT FOLLOWERS: 24 ]

[ DEVOTION LEVEL: FANATIC (TEMPORARY) ]

Red dismissed the notification. He had their loyalty for now, bought with meat. To keep it, he needed to give them a victory.

He zoomed in on the Chieftain.

‘YOU ARE STRONG NOW,’ Red whispered into the Chieftain’s mind. ‘BUT YOU ARE STILL PREY. THE SWAMP IS STILL FULL.’

Red highlighted the water surrounding the stilts. The Mire-Stalker had fled, but it would return. And there were others.

‘PICK UP YOUR WEAPONS,’ Red commanded. ‘THE FREE MEAL IS OVER. NOW, YOU HUNT.’

The Chieftain nodded, understanding the brutal logic instantly. He kicked a sleeping subordinate awake and pointed to the edge of the platform.

“Iron-Scale,” the Chieftain barked at the subordinate. “Get weapons. We kill croakers.”

Red watched them mobilize. They were clumsy, but they were energized.

He opened his [ SHOP ] tab.

He checked his currency. He had a massive amount of raw Faith accumulated from the feast, but his Conversion Multiplier was down. If he converted Faith now, he’d get the standard 100:1 rate. A waste.

There was also a risk of him losing the faith after being used by the kobolds. Still, the 100x multiplayer reward was greater than any risk he could take.

However, he still had the DP from the Ant Colony sacrifice.

[ DP: ~145,000 ] (Remainder from previous chapter)

The Rank 4 (Lesser Deity) upgrade cost 500,000 DP. He was far off. But the Shop had other things.

He scrolled past the “Miracles” and looked at the [ BLUEPRINTS ] tab. Civilization wasn’t just biology; it was technology.

[ BLUEPRINT: BASIC METALLURGY (IRON) ] → Cost: 15,000 DP.

[ BLUEPRINT: SIMPLE TRAPS ] → Cost: 10,000 DP.

[ BLUEPRINT: AGRICULTURE (FUNGI) ] → Cost: 5,000 DP.

Red selected [ SIMPLE TRAPS ].

BUY.

[ DP CONSUMED: 10,000 ]

Information flooded his mind. Snares, deadfalls, punji pits.

He looked at the Chieftain. He couldn’t just beam the knowledge into his brain; the creature’s intelligence was too low to process a raw download. He had to teach and explain them.

‘CHIEFTAIN,’ Red said. ‘THE MUD IS SOFT. THE WOOD IS SHARP. LISTEN.’

He began to guide the Chieftain’s gaze to the sharpened stakes of the broken stilts and the thick vines hanging from the moss trees.

“Civilization starts with a full belly,” Red said to the empty void of his domain. “But it survives with a sharp stick.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep