Global Lords: Building the Strongest Civilization with SSS Rank Talent Chapter 45: BIO-REACTOR

The call with the Druid ended, leaving a sour taste in Red's mouth. "Win-trading." The very concept offended his gar soul, although he was just a casual gar. It was safe and efficient, but it was boring.

Red looked at his resource tab.

[ DP: 249,600 ]

He hovered his finger over the [ RESEARCH: BIO-REACTOR ] button.

[ COST: 50,000 DP ]

His finger trembled. Fifty thousand. That was nearly 20% of his entire liquid capital. That was five [ MIRACLE: HEAL ] spells.

"Is it worth it?" Red whispered to the empty Void.

He looked at the statistics of his tribe.

→ Daily Food Consumption: 800 units (Rising rapidly).

→ Current Production: Fishing (Variable), Farming (Slow), Hunting (Dangerous).

→ Starvation Risk: 15% (Yellow Alert).

"The Druid farms fear," Red analyzed. "But fear doesn't fill a belly. If I want to expand—if I want to beat Marcus and the 'Heroes' in the West—I need a population explosion. And I can't support a thousand soldiers on fish and moss."

"Also, they eat anything they see moving. Not to ntion how they got sick a few weeks ago after they ate the Troglodytes' at. I had to waste DP to cure them. Even though I have told them to not eat, it's in their nature. They will surely do it again. I can't punish them for eating."

He looked at the pulsing green Heart of Rot sitting in the wagon on the map below. It was a perpetual motion machine of biological matter. A glitch in the laws of thermodynamics.

"It's an infinite engine," Red decided. "If I can strip the poison... I can print at."

He took a deep breath.

"Investnt confird."

CLICK.

[ DP DEDUCTED: 50,000 ]

[ RESEARCH STARTED: BIO-REACTOR (TIER 1) ]

[ TI TO COMPLETION: 4 DAYS ]

The next four days were a confusing nightmare for the citizens of Bastion.

They weren't upgrading the temple or building a wall. They were building a... thing.

Red directed the construction personally, burning another 5,000 DP on material transmutations to get the glass thick enough and the iron pure enough.

→ The Shell-Kin hauled massive sheets of silica-glass from the new sand pits in the crater.

→ The Kobolds forged complex copper piping, twisting them into spirals that made no sense to them.

→ Krug was forced to act as a welder, using his violet fire to seal the joints of the massive vat.

"It is a prison?" Gorak asked on the third day, looking at the ten-foot-tall glass cylinder being erected in the center of the Industrial District.

"It is a stomach," Iron-Scale guessed, watching the pipes being connected.

They were terrified of the Heart. It sat in a containnt box, thumping slowly, leaking green sli. It slled of the enemy. It slled of the Tower that had tried to kill them.

"Trust Ka-Lam-Tee," Krug chanted, though his own voice wavered. "The Spiral consus and knows all."

'I don't… buddy…' Red sighed.

On the evening of the fourth day, the machine was ready.

It looked like sothing out of a steampunk horror movie. A massive central glass vat, surrounded by a complex array of copper heat-exchangers and filtration tubes. At the bottom was a heavy iron spigot.

[KRUG,] Red projected. [PUT IT IN.]

Krug hesitated. He held the Heart of Rot. It was heavy, warm, and gross.

He climbed the ladder to the top of the vat. He dropped the heart into the suspension fluid, a mix of water and salt.

SPLOOSH.

The Heart floated in the center. It looked angry.

[SEAL IT.]

The heavy iron lid was clamped down.

[NOW,] Red commanded. [IGNITE THE COILS.]

Krug channeled his Violet Fire into the heating elent at the base.

The water inside began to boil. The Heart beat faster. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. It reacted to the stress by pumping out massive amounts of green, fungal slurry—its defense chanism.

The slurry was sucked into the copper pipes.

This was the critical mont. If the filtration failed, Red would just pump poison gas into his own city.

Red focused. He spent 2,000 DP on a final, localized miracle.

"Concept: Pasteurization - Denaturation."

"Target: Filtration Coils."

The pipes glowed white-hot. The green slurry was forced through the superheated spirals. The extre heat killed the fungal spores instantly, breaking down the complex toxins into simple proteins and carbohydrates.

The color changed. It went in Green. It moved through the pipes... turning Grey... then White.

[OPEN THE VALVE.]

Gorak stepped forward. He placed a wooden bucket under the spigot. He turned the wheel.

HISS.

A thick, steaming, white substance poured out. It had the consistency of porridge or wet dough. It didn't sll like rot. It slled like... yeast. And cooked at.

The bucket filled.

The tribe watched in silence.

"What is it?" a Mud-Skipper whispered.

[EAT,] Red ordered.

The crowd flinched. They looked at the white slop. It ca from the enemy's heart. It was surely cursed.

Gorak looked at the bucket. He was the Vanguard. He was the Penitent. If this was poison, it was his duty to die first.

He scooped up a handful of the white paste. It was warm. He shoved it into his mouth.

He chewed. He swallowed.

Gorak's eyes widened. It wasn't delicious. It tasted bland, earthy, and slightly tallic like blood. But it was dense. He could feel the calories hitting his stomach like a punch. It was pure, concentrated fuel.

"It... it is good," Gorak rumbled, wiping his mouth. "It is strong."

He took another handful. And another.

"I feel the heat," Gorak announced, flexing his irradiated arm. "It fills the blood."

Red watched the interface.

[ ITEM CREATED: NUTRIENT PASTE (TIER 1) ]

[ PROPERTIES: HIGH CALORIE / NO TOXINS / ACCELERATED HEALING ]

[ PRODUCTION RATE: 1000 UNITS / DAY ]

The crowd surged forward. The fear had vanished, replaced by the urge of hunger. The Shell-Kin lumbered up. The Kobolds scrambled with bowls. The Grey-Fins brought nets to carry the blocks of paste.

Red watched them eat. He watched the Faith Counter tick up.

[ FAITH GENERATED: 500 ]

[ FAITH TRAIT EVOLVED: THE PROVIDER ]

"Well… that's 1% of my investnt already." Red muttered.

Red sat back in the Void.

[ CURRENT DP: 275,400 ]

He had spent a fortune. But he had solved the most fundantal limit of civilization.

"The Druid creates artificial scarcity to control his people," Red whispered, looking at the happy, feeding frenzy below. "He keeps them hungry so they need him."

Red zood in on the glowing Bio-Reactor, the heart of his new industry.

"I just automated the harvest. Now they will never have to worry about food or getting sick. This should be fine for… 5000 followers. I will have to upgrade it after that, but I will worry about that later. For now… I need to focus on increasing my followers."