The Collector pressed forwards, onwards to the direction of Vimur.

The elder did not know the exact coordinates of this location, but by now, the Collector was close enough to the area that it could perceive the environmental flow of magical energy swirling towards it.

The initial patterns of mana flow movement across the environment indicated that Vimur was likely going to be a dungeon and judging by the quantity of flow vastly surpassing the lair-like dungeon of the ursine, it was one that promised much more danger and, simultaneously, much more reward.

Of course, an accurate threat assessment of the dungeon could not yet be calculated until the Collector could directly analyze its immediate surroundings.

Estimated time of arrival to Vimur: two hours accounting for constant interference from these specimen known as wraiths.

As for the wraiths –

The Collector blitzed a complete warpath of carnage and destruction.

Like a lone star casting away the dark, the Collector's solidified golden light blades sliced through wraith bodies with utter ease.

One swipe could catch two to three of the misty figures, and when the light blade passed through their normally incorporeal bodies of mist, grain, and ice, an interesting reaction occurred.

The Primal Density, visible in particulate form as iridescent, rainbow specks, holding together the inky wraith forms sputtered out, their light snuffed out at points of contact with the Firefly Shinchu light.

Then, this reaction spread, and all the primal density holding together the wraiths faded away, causing them to spontaneously combust into a miniature explosion of shattered ice and heat.

This explosion too was lethal to wraiths nearby, and the Collector ensured it wrought maximal destruction by targeting clusters of wraiths, leaping forwards to stab one and let its death explosion deal with the rest.

In the case that wraiths came too close to the units behind the Collector, it would utilize Sapia, crushing them with ranged capability.

The carrier unit and his chosen two subunits to wield the solidified light held their own well.

The carrier unit, in particular, devastated the ranks of the wraiths. With agile flips and dashes zig-zagging through the misty dark bodies, the carrier unit slashed and stabbed and hacked, shattering wraith forms wherever he went.

The sub-units were far less agile, but still, as champions, they defended themselves and the unarmed units adequately enough, with only a small number of injuries accumulating among the goblin swarm.

So far, no deaths.

With the goblin units the Collector personally guarded, there were not even injuries.

When the greater body of the wraiths numbering almost fifty in total came forwards in a veritable sea of darkness, the Collector created three more shards of light and with Sapia, rotated them rapidly around itself, creating mobile blades that it could shoot out or back to defend its units in more angles.

Thirty more minutes later, and the Collector stood victorious, no wraiths remaining to stand against it.

The goblin swarm stared at the Collector in complete awe, marveling at its martial prowess and capacity to defend them to such a degree.

>>>

Mana Level: 30%

>>>

The Collector clicked the mandibles of its main skull. It had by devouring the Ursine constantly compensated for the loss of spirit roots from skipping a metamorphosis level, but even so, the cost of the Firefly Shincu's light was significant.

It would take ascending to the next level to make them manageable.

Which made the Collector wonder what it would be like to truly face the Firefly Shinchu in venerated battle.

An exciting prospect for another time.

For now, the Collector made note of its resources.

The goblin swarm reconvened around the Collector, the dark snowfall of Grain raging all around them. Even though the goblins were well adapted to the cold with their flexible skin, the champion units did not possess the same prime genetic material as the elite unit, and correspondingly their capacity to adapt cold resistance was lower.

Here, farther north were Grain generated temperatures far lower than ordinary snowfall, the champions possessed compromised movement and function from the cold.

Thus, the Collector, after it ascertained there were no more wraiths in the vicinity, alighted itself with flame once more.

The goblins knelt down in reverence as the flames coated the Collector, almost forming a royal cape of flames around its back.

"Stand," said the Collector. "There is no time to squander. Carrier unit, report to me an assessment of your units."

"Yes, my king," said Thokk as he stood up, daggers of solidified light fastened to the loincloth at his waist. "Five injured champions. Three of them have lost the use of their arms, but the icy curse upon them will heal in time, I am sure."

"No compromise to movement capacity, then," said the Collector. "Then we will move forward."

A small silence echoed through the ranks of the champions, and Thokk whirled around, sensing the sentiment.

"Who is it?" said Thokk. His red eyes were alight with displeasure. "Who among you is not devoted to the king's cause?"

"Calm now, Thokk," said the elder from a champion's shoulder. "They are merely afraid for they are not as mighty as you."

"Fear?" mused the Collector. "For what possible reason should fear foment within your processing units? Most of you have emerged from this altercation unscathed or with no permanent injury."

"King, it is not that we scared of fighting," said one of the champions with lowered head. "But…but fighting ghosts hard. Can't hit them but they hit us. Not like a real fight."

"I see," said the Collector. The Collector could actually understand the emotion and sentiment behind this thought. It had felt the very same the first time it had fought the hobgoblin thrall when he could simply phase through the Collector's blows.

There was no sense of the fight, of any meaningful exchange of blows.

"And we know we fight for king, but some of us want to know," continued the champion. "What king fight for? What he lead us to?"

"Is it not enough to fight by your king's side?" questioned Thokk.

"Elder says king lead us to Old Age, but none of us know Old Age," said the champion. "What…what we get from fighting?"

The Collector began to understand. The champion specimen, or at the very least some of them, though they were conditioned to follow the Collector, maintained independence enough to value their self-perseverance and desires as well.

Thus, the discontent specimen desired good fights and appropriate rewards for risking their lives for such fights.

Yet, what would these units desire? The Collector had never required reward for any of its actions. It simply did as it was meant to, and fulfilling its created purpose alone was sufficient justification for its existence.

The Collector had some ideation. Perhaps the units desired a promise of basic physical needs. Continued warmth and sustenance. Perhaps they desired additional means of growing strength.

In either case, the Collector could provide so long as their desires did not grow too cumbersome to accommodate.

"If is continued sustenance and shelter you desire, then at the very least, your physical needs will not want," stated the Collector. "These flames that I generate will provide heat. Prey for consumption, I can easily generate through the usage of Snow Sprites to lure them.

You will not want for companionship with others of your kind, nor in access to reproductive functions, particularly when the other goblin tribes of this biome have been assimilated."

This explanation seemed to be sufficient for most of the champion units for, as the Collector knew well, instinct dictated that they prioritize such physical needs close to themselves. Such was the nature of intelligence and independence.

Tinkerers often thought themselves separate from those species less mentally capable, somehow beyond basic primal need due to intelligence and independence, but at the fundamental level, both of those values were simply a means to an end for fulfilling such primal needs and desires.

"That good," said the champion, and yet, the specimen continued, this time looking right at the Collector. "I like food, fire, lair, and that good for most of us, but me – I want to know again: what I fight for?"

"Thragg, if you continue against the king like this, then you will know what you fight for. Your life against me," said Thokk.

"A purpose, is it?" said the Collector, musing in thought to itself.

The specimen desired a purpose to justify its fighting. Or, at a more fundamental level, a purpose to give meaning to its existence. Beyond even the promise of having its physical needs met, it desired a purpose.

This…was an idiosyncrasy of tinkerers that the Collector knew of but did not truly understand.

The Collector was created with purpose to bring forth the Collective's reign across the universe. Its entire physiology, its combat capabilities and processing power and even its implanted desires, all of it was fashioned for the purpose of waging battle to further the Collective.

This, the Collector had known from the moment of its conception.

But tinkerers – they had no purpose to themselves. When they were born, they knew nothing, and though they could have purposes instilled into them through learning, that they were not born for their purpose meant their devotion to it was fickle.

They expanded and gathered resources for seemingly no real purpose in sight, for inevitably their expansion would collapse from the discord of independence or incompetency.

This was what the Collector had initially thought.

Yet, perhaps that was the wrong way to think about them.

Perhaps the distinction was that tinkerers had the capacity to choose their own purpose.