Invincible: King of the Monsters

"Conquer the world, conquer the world... it doesn't sound so bad," he mused, trying to ease his lingering hesitation. It wasn't just something he had to do—it was something he needed to do. It was his sole purpose in this world. The very reason for his existence.

It sounded bleak and monotonous, yet as the monster he now was, he found himself incapable of boredom. Perhaps it was an inherent trait of his new biology, but whatever the reason, he was oddly grateful for it.

His nose wrinkled in annoyance. Despite already deciding to conquer the world, he still found himself dwelling on it. Some part of him—some human part—resisted the idea. More of his past self remained than he had expected, and it unsettled him.

But he knew he couldn't allow this internal conflict to drag on much longer. He had neither the time nor the luxury to let doubt take root. Only two paths lay before him, and while neither was particularly appealing, the destination remained the same—the only difference was how he would get there.

He could choose to conquer the world as a monster capable of rational thought, using strategy and intellect to seize control. This way, he could attempt a more calculated, even so-called "peaceful" conquest—though he knew there was no such thing. Conquest, by nature, required force, whether subtle or overt.

Or perhaps this world was not the modern Earth he once knew. Maybe he had been reborn on an alien planet, one where civilization followed the law of the jungle. A place where the strong consumed the weak, and power was the only currency that mattered.

But then, remembering that the voice in his head had once mentioned Mother Nature, he was forced to rethink his expectations. Still, he couldn't be sure. After all, this was one of the questions his so-called guide—the voice in his head—refused to answer. Whenever he asked, he was met with nothing but echoing silence.

Now, he had to find out for himself. For that reason, he set his sights on exploring and finding a way out of this cave. Only then could he gain insight into what he was up against and how much preparation was necessary.

Yet, caution held him back. He wasn't willing to explore on his own—not yet. Instead, he would send out his forces. Every time the thought of venturing out alone crossed his mind, an unfamiliar sense of danger crept in. He wasn't sure why he felt it, but one thing was certain—he would take precautions first and find out later.

Today, he planned to birth a new monstrous unit, one designed specifically for scouting and exploration. Its purpose would be to gather information on his behalf, ensuring he could assess the world without exposing himself to unnecessary risks.

But no matter what world he had been reborn into, one thing remained true—if he chose to ignore conquest, if he rejected the inevitability of bloodshed and domination, then only one alternative remained.

A far more feral path.

If he refused his role as a conqueror, his consciousness would eventually be overridden by instinct, reducing him to nothing more than the pure embodiment of conquest itself—a mindless force of nature, driven by an insatiable hunger to rule. There was no third option.

The decision came swiftly after some contemplation. He would rather conquer the world as an intelligent being than exist as a mindless animal. Besides, his chances of success were far greater with rational thought and strategy. Succumbing to mindless instinct might only hasten his demise.

And if there was one thing he feared more than the idea of decimating humanity's civilization, it was losing his life—his second chance.

With that realization, his decision solidified. "Conquering it is."

Deep in thought, on the edge of sleep, his attention was abruptly drawn to the sound of low growls. His eyes snapped open, his head turning toward the cave entrance as his focus shifted to the approaching figure.

Between its teeth, it carried prey—a rodent, its body riddled with bite marks, patches of fur missing. Its once-luminescent form was now a mess of blood and dim blue light, its muscles twitching as the last traces of life faded away.

He regarded it with something close to pity—perhaps even sorrow—but pity was not the same as mercy. Without hesitation, the moment the prey was dropped before him, his claws moved with crushing force, shattering its skull.

With his clawed hands, he dragged the rodent toward his mouth. One savage bite, and its entire body disappeared between his jaws—the crunch of bone and flesh reverberating through the darkness.

Satisfied, his hunger quelled, he turned his gaze back to the figure before him. After a brief, dismissive glance, he returned to his spot, lying down once more to relax.

As he watched his newest spawn retreat into the shadows, he silently tallied the growing number of monstrosities he had created.

About seven days had passed since the birth of his first spawn. Since then, their numbers had grown. He now had a handful of hunters under his command, and they were as efficient as ever.

The next variants he created served a different purpose: defense and protection. Or at least, that was the guise he used to justify their existence. The truth was simpler. Even if he couldn't feel boredom, loneliness was still an emotion that lingered. That was why he had birthed his two attendants.

In appearance, they were nearly identical to him, the only differences being their smaller size and limited potential for growth.

At the same time, his own body had changed. Once a mere four meters tall, he had now grown to six—and he knew he wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

Savoring the lingering taste of blood on his tongue, he turned his attention back to his prey. The glowing rodents that had once scurried freely through the caves were now under relentless predation by his spawn. And that concerned him.

"Won't we eventually hunt them to extinction?" he pondered, the gnawing worry of losing his only food source settling in.

[» Negative «]

He paused at the response. That voice—it had become an ever-present entity in his mind, always answering the questions that left him perplexed. Now that it had spoken, he pressed forward.

"Why is that?"

[» The ecosystem adjusts itself to accommodate the Monster King. «]

[» Wherever the Monster King is present, reproduction skyrockets and increases exponentially. «]

"That... makes sense," he muttered with a shrug. He was already accustomed to the absurdity of his existence—one more anomaly hardly seemed surprising.

Done with his internal contemplation, he refocused on the next task at hand: creating new variants. These creatures would have a single purpose and a design tailored specifically to that role.

They would be small by nature, built for discretion—perfectly suited for navigating and surviving within their environment.

Unlike the hunters and attendants, these new variants would be built for sustained long-distance underwater travel. With this adaptation, they wouldn't need to rest as frequently in the aquatic biome.

The hunters and attendants were more suited for terrestrial environments. He had designed the hunters for tracking and killing prey, while the attendants served as defenders on land. To conserve biomass, neither had been built for prolonged travel.

Rising to his feet, the ground trembled slightly under his weight. As he stepped out of the cave, his gaze briefly swept over the two attendants stationed at the entrance. The moment they noticed his towering figure, they tensed instinctively.

With a dismissive snort, he turned away and began making his way toward the hatchery. The attendants, without hesitation, fell into step behind him, their eyes scanning their surroundings, ever vigilant and ready to spring into action.

He quickly approached the Hatchery, the first thing catching his eye being the dim red glow emanating from within. As he stepped inside, his gaze landed on a hunter variant dropping a rodent's corpse into the crimson liquid.

The lifeless body floated briefly before the pool reacted. A deeper shade of red spread outward, and within moments, a swirling mist emerged, twisting and coiling around the carcass.

Before his very eyes, the rodent's body began to dissolve, breaking down into liquid until nothing remained. It was a bizarre sight, but one he had long grown accustomed to.

Not too long ago, he had learned that he no longer needed to actively consume prey to accumulate biomass. When he first discovered this feature, it had been a great relief—he had no desire to endlessly gorge himself just to sustain the growth of his future spawns.

Under his command, apart from food required for direct sustenance, any excess prey hunted was to be thrown into the pool. Though there was no exact number to quantify the biomass stored, he had a general sense of how much he had accumulated.

"Wait," he suddenly paused.

How much biomass do I have? he asked internally, directing the question to his guide.

[» Biomass: 584 «]

He nodded to himself, pleased with the response. It was a considerable amount—enough to create nearly seven hunter variants. But that wasn't why he was here. His goal was to create something new.

Turning his focus back to the pulsating, blood-red pool, he sharpened his thoughts, channeling his mental energy into shaping his next creation.