The Collector observed the webbing it had drawn up over the den. There were bloody stains on it from the goblin that been trapped there in a final attempt to escape. The Collector ran its hands and arachnid limbs across the stains, absorbing the blood through its skin.

The last drops of red draining into the Collector's integumentary system heralded the complete assimilation of all noteworthy living beings inside the den.

The Collector's next target was to scope out the more intelligent civilizations on this planet, and though it reasoned that the humans were highly primitive and not a threat, it still had not made any extensive contact with them.

For there was still the matter of that thing that had reduced the Collector's once mighty state into its current, pitiful form.

Was it the creation of these lowly humans? No, it did not seem so. Then another civilization? And yet, there were no signs of any such advanced tinkering race.

That left the Collector only with the lead of finding information about humans, for it seemed the goblins had no other contact with more intelligent species. Thus it had extracted all the information it could about a nearby human settlement from the goblins.

From the goblins' memories, it would seem that they, under the leadership of the hobgoblin, were intending on rallying their forces, calling from other dens further in the forest, and overrunning the village for their supplies and females.

They did not normally clash with the militarily superior humans, but necessity drove them due to the presence of a fierce predator deeper within the forest that pushed them out. The exact nature of this predator was unknown - it would require further investigation on part of the Collector.

There were more hobgoblins as well, and they made better use of their mental faculties than their average goblin brethren, sending them out to scout the human settlement.

A few of the goblins in the den had been part of these scouting missions, and from their memories tied to the keyword of 'human', the Collector perceived in greater clarity the nature of the humans in this world.

The humans of the settlement were at the very early stages of development as a tinkering civilization, just past the stage when they were hunter gatherers to cultivating the land, living off of harvests instead of migratory hunts.

There was some semblance of hierarchy and division of labor among the humans, with there being an appointed leader and various laborers, farmers, gatherers, hunters, and warriors.

Their level of technology was, as predicted, low. They worked with pliable plant matter such as wood, building homes and tools with the substance. They had some measure of metalworking, but they did not have the technological means to produce refined alloys, let alone infinitely complicated alloys such as smartsteel.

In fact, there simply was no complicated or advanced technology to speak of. Though these humans utilized tools, they still merely utilized them as an extension of their basic bodily strength, not relying on engines or artificial intelligences or anything that remotely reached that caliber of tinkering.

There was one thing that confused the Collector, however.

It was the presence of a substance called magic. One of the goblins had a vivid memory of it. A robed human waving its hands and unleashing a torrent of flame from seemingly nowhere.

The Collector had searched its memory banks long and hard for any technology that the Collective might have encountered that was similar, but in all instances where tinkering species created fire, it was through the aid of devices.

To simply wave one's extremities and generate flames was not recorded.

Certainly, the Collector itself knew of an adaptation that involved igniting a chemical solution with a friction inducing organ to generate gouts of flame hot enough to melt even smartsteel, but the human from the memory did not have anything resembling such an adaptation.

Some humans underwent significant bodily changes and artificial adaptations themselves, padding their skeletal and muscular systems with alloys and wiring and plating and whatever else they needed to compensate for their inherent weakness, and among some of these false adaptations was a flame generating structure in the palm, but this was not that either.

Perhaps, had the Collector been connected to the Collective and its much broader database, then it could have found more relevant information, but for now, it would have to figure out this 'magic' by itself.

As of now, it was not particularly worried.

If this 'magic' only had the power to generate fire, then it was useless.

Regular fire and its temperatures, especially in this atmosphere, would prove to be nothing of a threat to the Collector's current level of organic hyperalloy carapace.

The Collector decided it would head to the human settlement the goblins had planned to attack for more information. It lay an hour run due south from the den, but it would wait around the settlement outskirts until night came to conduct its hunting and investigations.

The problem with tinkering species, and one of the traits that allowed them to surpass the limitations of nature, was that they were social, sticking closely together and grouping their efforts when needed.

The Collector could not recklessly hunt down humans without expecting some form of group retribution.

Thus, it would prowl at night, capturing and interrogating lone humans. It would not be odd for these weaklings to have members of their society disappear due to a forest predator or even goblins.

In the time between capturing humans, it would see to investigating the other hobgoblins as well, consuming them for efficient biomass harvesting and, perhaps, as additional sources of information.

But for now, the humans posed the greatest potential threat as an intelligent species, and so the Collector would focus on obtaining information about them.

The Collector had already used its consumption memory extraction to learn the human language from the human specimen in the den, meaning it would require more humans to learn of additional topics.

The acquisition of the human language, also known as 'Terran', also gave further credence to the Collector's hypothesis that these were not the humans it knew.

Their language was utterly different. Similar in some faint ways, but only in a capacity to confirm that their evolutionary developments were similar, requiring similar vocalizing structures to utter the intonations required for the language.

Good.

Then the Collector would not have to worry about the presence of armored vehicles or autonomous weapons systems or seeker drones and the like. Though the Collector craved battle and consumption, it recognized that there was never such a thing as too much information.

The only issue was now how to approach the humans for it.

The Collector only knew of one way, and it was simple, really.

The Collector would appeal to the base, primal instincts that the humans still had embedded within them.

The fear of death.

It would interrogate them, threatening their demise, and if that proved useless, then it would not hesitate to consume them.

With a plan in mind, the Collector used its claws to tear down the webbing at the den's entrance.

The blood-soaked silk wafted gently to the ground, letting in rays of light once more. With a swift motion, it hoisted itself up and over the den's entrance and onto the forest floor.

There, a surprise awaited. A welcome surprise, in light of all the thinking the Collector had done.

Humans.

Three of them. Two males and one female. Two of them were grouped together standing a few meters away from the Collector, while another, the female, stood further back.

The Collector emitted a low growl in instinctive response to the scents and body language the humans emitted.

It could smell their aggression and fear, the sweat forming on their foreheads, the stench of adrenaline starting to reek from within their bodies. It extended its claws until they were like small daggers – the maximal length rank 1 of monomolecular claws could create.

Its antennae stood up straight and alert, sensing every single minute movement from the humans.

"What in the name of Aetheria is this? The hobgoblin? A variant, maybe?" said one of the humans.

The Collector conducted a sweeping and quick analysis.

The human was male judging by sexually dimorphic traits such as its wider build, facial hair, and vocal intonations. He wielded what the Collector identified as a sword, made of steel, a basic iron alloy. Good musculature.

Tall and proportionally built. Garbed in hardened animal skins that protected his vitals. Movements rigid with alarm but relaxed enough to fight if needed.

"Perhaps your eyes would benefit from a trip to the temple if you mistake this…thing as anything resembling a goblin," said his companion. Another male. He was shorter, but more muscled.

He wore metal armor all over his body with a plated, interlocked thickness that far surpassed the protection the other male wore. Wielded what the Collector identified as a spear, extending the male's damaging reach significantly.

"But this is the hobgoblin's den. According to the contract's details, that is, but gods know that the average farmer and frontier bumpkin cannot distinguish a goblin from a demon," said the sword-wielding male. "Gunther, stay in front of me and try and see if the thing's aggressive."

"Feeling a little cowardly, are we Dale?" said the spear-wielder. He inched forwards; spear extended.

"You know as an adventurer that there's nothing I love more in this world than tearing apart a rare monster. We'll be paid handsomely by the Sorcerer's Order for anything new their grubby old hands can experiment on," said the sword-wielder, baring a toothy smile.

He stood behind the spear wielder and spoke words of caution. "If only us one stars got to keep the cores. But can't complain about coin either."

The sword wielding male known as Dale jutted his chin forward, signaling the shorter male, Gunther, forward. "But we won't be enjoying our coin as corpses, and you're the one wearing full-plate. Stay forwards. Soak the damage."

"And don't forget," said the female in the back. She grasped with both hands a stick that lengthwise ran approximately equal to her height.

The Collector did not see any sharpened tip or metal point like with the spear, nor had the wood been tempered any to harden it as a sufficient bludgeoning weapon. It did not understand the purpose of the tool, but if it posed no threat, it did not care.

"Even though I have your backs with my healing, it does not mean you two are as invincible as you would like to think," said the woman. "I do not sense any mana from the monster, but you two still should not let your guards down."

Gunther nodded. "Yeah, I can't count how many times I would have been dead without you. What say you to a round of drinks afterwards? Token of my appreciation, y'know? Plus, I know a pretty nice place back in town. Gods know I won't have any of the filthy swill that the village tavern can dredge up."

"Flirting on the job again, are we?" said Dale as he circled the Collector, sword glinting under the sun.

"No, just raised with the knowhow to treat a lady when I see one," replied Gunther.

"More like harass one," said Dale. "And you wonder why we never can seem to have women stay in our party."

The Collector observed the humans' exchange with some interest. They seemed to be a highly social species, communicating with each other well.

Their language was complex, more so than that of the goblin's, and it seemed that even the average member of the species had adequate mastery over it. Their ideas were of a relative higher-order, capable of tactical planning under pressure.

At a first glance, it would seem they would be good to interrogate. At the least, they would be more articulate than the goblins.

"Humans," said the Collector.

All the humans froze.