Red stood before the obsidian slab, his hands clasped behind his back. He did not touch the screen. He had spent 10,000 DP on the [ BLUEPRINT: SIMPLE TRAPS ] and explained the concept into the Chieftain’s mind hours ago. The investment was made. Now, he watched to see if the asset would perform or depreciate.

On the live feed, the Chieftain stood alone on a submerged cypress root. The water lapped against his ankles, black and oily. Above him, hidden in the canopy, three warriors clung to the mossy branches, holding a vine taut. A heavy log, studded with sharpened thigh bones, hung suspended in the grey mist.

A ripple disturbed the water.

Red watched the readings.

[THREAT DETECTED: MIRE-STALKER] [DISTANCE: 20 METERS]

The predator emerged from the sludge—a ridge of spiked scales slicing through the water. It had smelled the blood from the earlier miracle feast. It expected easy meat.

Red felt the urge to intervene. His finger twitched toward the [ WHISPER ] icon.

[ COST: 500 DP ]

He forced his hand down.

If they could not kill a single E-Rank beast without him holding their hand, they were useless. He needed a civilization, not a puppet show.

‘Prove your worth,’ Red thought, staring at the Chieftain. ‘Stand your ground.’

The Mire-Stalker lunged. It exploded from the water, jaws gaping, a thrashing engine of muscle and hunger.

The Chieftain flinched. Instinct screamed at the reptile to run, to dive, to submit. But the memory of the Shadow Totem—and the fear of the God who demanded strength—held him in place. He planted his feet on the slippery wood and hissed.

The warriors in the trees released the vine.

Gravity did the work. The log swung down, a pendulum of judgment cutting through the humid air.

THWACK.

The impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a wet melon. The spiked log slammed into the Stalker’s skull mid-lunge, driving the beast down into the mud. The sharpened bones punched through the scales.

The Stalker thrashed, churning the water into a bloody froth, but the weight of the trap pinned it against the root system.

The Chieftain didn’t wait. He scrambled onto the log, his rusted cleaver raised high. With a guttural roar, he brought the blade down, severing the spine.

The thrashing stopped.

Red exhaled. The tension in the void released.

[ HUNT SUCCESSFUL ]

[ TARGET ELIMINATED: MIRE-STALKER (RANK E) ]

[ FAITH GENERATED (AWE): +150 ]

The Chieftain panted, standing over the kill. He looked at his hands, then at the dead predator. For the first time, he wasn’t just a survivor; he was a conqueror. He looked up at the sky, raising the bloody weapon.

“Ka-lam-tee!” he shrieked.

The warriors dropped from the trees, splashing into the water to join him, chanting the name.

Red allowed a small, cold smile to touch his lips. They had learned.

He tapped the Chieftain’s profile. The creature had displayed courage and tactical competence.

[ UNIT: KOBOLD CHIEFTAIN ] [ STATUS: EVOLVING ]

“You earned it,” Red whispered to the void.

He typed into the console.

[ DESIGNATION APPLIED: KRUG ]

A ripple of golden light descended from the sky, washing over the Chieftain. The Kobold stiffened as the name settled into his soul, a mark of divine favor.

Red turned away from the celebration. The immediate food crisis was solved. The defense was active. Now he needed to look at the long game.

He pulled up the [ BLUEPRINTS ] tab again.

They had wood. They had bones. They had mud. But to survive the nightmares lurking in the darker sectors of the Seventeenth Continent, they needed something harder.

[ BLUEPRINT: BASIC METALLURGY (IRON) ] [ COST: 15,000 DP ]

Red checked the geological scan. A vein of iron ore lay three miles north, dangerously close to the border of the Fungal Deep.

“Celebrate tonight, Krug,” Red said, closing the window. “Tomorrow, we go to work.”

The excitement of the hunt faded, leaving Red alone in the silence of his domain.

He leaned back, expecting to feel the fatigue of a long gaming session, but his spectral body didn’t ache. It simply hummed with a low, dull emptiness. He rubbed his chest. A strange sensation gnawed at him—a dryness in a throat that didn’t breathe, a cramp in a stomach that didn’t digest. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with.

It was thirst and hunger.

“I’m a ghost,” Red muttered, looking at his semi-translucent hands. “I shouldn’t need calories.”

He ignored it for an hour, focusing on the map, but the sensation grew sharper. It wasn’t biological hunger; it was ontological. His existence was burning fuel to maintain its shape, and the tank was running low.

He pulled up the [ SYSTEM SHOP ].

He scrolled past [ MIRACLES ] and [ BLUEPRINTS ]. He searched for “Sustenance,” “Energy,” or “Food.”

A new tab blinked into existence at the bottom of the list.

[ PERSONAL QUARTERS: KITCHEN ]

→ Level: 1 (Basic).

Red tapped it. The screen shifted, replacing the map of the swamp with a menu that looked depressingly like a cafeteria list from a dystopian shelter.

[ MENU ITEM 1: PURIFIED VOID WATER ]

→ Restores Mental Clarity.

→ Cost: 500 DP.

[ MENU ITEM 2: MANA-HARDTACK ]

→ Restores Spirit Mass.

→ Cost: 1,000 DP.

“That’s it?” Red asked.

[ SYSTEM NOTE: KITCHEN LEVEL TIED TO DIVINITY RANK ]

→ Current Rank: 3.

→ Kitchen Tier: 1 (Hovel).

→ Next Upgrade: Rank 5.

“Great,” Red said dryly. “The more popular I get, the better I eat. Just like real life.”

He selected the Mana-Hardtack.

[ PURCHASE CONFIRMED ] [ DP DEDUCTED: 1,000 ]

A flash of light materialized in his hand. It solidified into a dense, grey square that looked like a brick of compressed ash. It had no smell.

Red took a bite. It tasted like chalk and static electricity. It was dry, flavorless, and utterly joyless, but as he swallowed, the gnawing emptiness in his chest vanished. A warmth spread through his spectral veins, reinforcing his form.

He took another bite, watching his resource counter.

[ DP: 134,000 ]

He chewed slowly. A realization hit him, colder than the void around him.

He had treated DP like a high score. He thought once he reached a Rank, he kept it. But looking at the deduction, he understood the trap.

He pulled up the [ DIVINITY RULES ] tab again, reading the fine print he had ignored earlier.

[ DIVINITY MAINTENANCE ]

→ Rule 1: DP is both Currency and Status.

→ Rule 2: Your Rank is determined by your Current DP Balance, not your Lifetime Earnings.

→ Rule 3: If your DP drops below the Threshold for your current Rank, You Will De-Level.

Red stopped chewing.

[ RANK 3 THRESHOLD: 100,000 DP ] [ CURRENT BALANCE: 134,000 DP ]

He was safe for now. But if he bought an expensive Blueprint, or spammed Miracles to save the Kobolds, or upgraded the Kitchen too early, he could drop below 100,000.

If that happened, he would lose his semi-solid form. He would lose the Fear Aura. He would revert to a Rank 2 Apparition—a powerless ghost unable to interact with the world.

“It’s not a ladder,” Red whispered, finishing the chalky bread. “It’s a subscription service.”

He looked at the remaining crumbs on his hand. Every bite cost him power. Every luxury, every intervention, every tool he bought for his followers brought him closer to being deleted.

He had to maintain a surplus. He had to profit.

“Spend money to make money,” Red said, wiping his hands. “But never go broke. I even have 100x growth and still feel paranoid. No wonder the other guy couldn’t establish a civilization… even in 100 years.”

He closed the Kitchen tab. The hunger was gone, replaced by a new goal. The Kobolds weren’t just pets or an experiment anymore. They were his paycheck. And he needed them to work harder.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep