Intelligent Design: A Monster Evolution LitRPG

The acrid stench of vomit wafted through the air, making David's sensitive nose wrinkle in disgust. Off to the side, near the shimmering portal, a dwarf was hunched over, retching violently into the bushes. Everyone, including his fellow Keepguard, was politely pretending not to notice.

David couldn't blame them. The news they'd just received was enough to turn anyone's stomach.

It had all started so promisingly. The dwarves had introduced themselves as Keepguard, sworn to King Manus of Ironheart Hold on the world of Aethoria. Herold had welcomed them to Earth and the Woodland Society with all the pomp and circumstance of a seasoned diplomat. David had watched as the tension visibly drained from the dwarves' shoulders, Herold's long-winded speech apparently hitting all the right notes for a people accustomed to verbose leaders.

But then came the questions about the "Worldenders" and how Earth's Overseers were combating them. The confusion that followed was palpable, with the dwarves describing entities that sounded vaguely familiar to David. It took him a good thirty seconds to realize they were talking about Omega, Xi, and others he hadn't encountered – albeit in a way that suggested they were working off third-hand accounts of campfire ghost stories.

When David blurted out that these "Worldenders" were, in fact, their Overseers, the silence that fell was deafening. The nervous laughter that followed was even worse.

"Ye must be mistaken, lad," one of the dwarves had said, his beard quivering with barely suppressed panic.

David's face had grown serious, his wings rustling uneasily. "No mistake. I've had dealings with them. Omega and Xi, mainly. Hell, Omega even offered me a Quest to solo an Area Boss or face 'hideous consequences.'"

The Woodlanders who knew David had startled at this revelation, shooting him looks that would have screamed disbelief if they didn't trust him implicitly. The dwarves, however, looked like they'd just discovered they'd stumbled into literal hell – and found it disappointingly mundane.

As David launched into a thorough description of Omega, complete with details of the avatar lurking on his Status screen, the dwarves had turned a sickly shade of green. Before he could even finish, their leader had barked out a series of strangled orders. Several of his companions had sprinted back through the portal, disappearing into one of the metal rings set into the distant courtyard without so much as a flash of light.

And then the vomiting had started.

David couldn't shake the feeling that Earth might be royally screwed. The dwarves kept muttering about being dead already, the end times, or insisting that David must be lying or deceived.

Finally, their leader snapped out of his thousand-yard stare. "Stuff it, ye blatherin' fools!" he barked, his accent thicker than ever. "We've no time for yer weepin' and wailin'!"

David leaned over to Claire, who sat beside him like a scaled monument. The dwarves had been particularly impressed by her, having never seen anything quite like a dinosaur before. They'd eyed her armored plates with the appreciation of master craftsmen.

"Bit much, don't you think?" David whispered. "Puking over bad news?"

Claire's reptilian features twisted into what passed for a grimace. "From what I understand, you basically just told them their gods are dead and multiple Satans have taken over their world."

David's stomach dropped as the implications sank in. "Oh," he said weakly. "When you put it that way..."

The dwarf leader, having regained some of his composure, approached David and Claire. His face was ashen beneath his beard, but his eyes burned with determination.

"Lad," he said, his voice gruff, "I need ye to tell me everythin' ye know about these... Overseers. Leave nothin' out, no matter how small or strange it might seem."

David nodded, his wings rustling nervously. "It's a long story," he warned.

The dwarf's laugh was hollow. "Aye, and we've got little enough time. Best get started."

David snorted at the dwarf's urgency but complied, launching into a rapid-fire account of the Overseers. He recounted the night of the 'celestial event,' the chaos that followed, and their rebirth as monsters. He described the System's intrusion, the Quests, Events, and Bosses they faced, and the Abilities, Mutagens, Bloodlines, and Evolutions they unlocked.

Carefully omitting specifics, David mentioned his accidental contact with Omega, the subsequent Quest, and the revelation of Wildsoul magic. When he brought up the Dark Star, however, he was met with blank stares.

"We know no Worldender by that name," the dwarf leader admitted, his bushy eyebrows furrowed.

David's wings rustled uneasily. "Omega called it a 'Damnable Serpent' once or twice."

The dwarf froze, his face paling beneath his beard. For nearly a full minute, he stood motionless, as if struck by lightning. Then, he began to pace, fingers raking through his hair and beard with such ferocity that David worried he might tear it out by the roots.

Whirling back to face David, the dwarf's eyes were wild with desperation. "By the Great Forge, lad! Tell me this be some cruel jest ye're playin'!"

David's expression softened, but he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's all true."

The dwarf leader drew himself up, his chainmail clinking softly as he took a deep breath. When he spoke, it was with the formality of one addressing royalty.

Sensing the rapidly deteriorating situation, Herold intervened. "Perhaps you could enlighten us about the nature of the System and these Worldenders? This reality is all we've known since the Special Integration began."

"The System, great beetle-lord," he began, nodding to Herold, "has always been. It grows with each new realm it touches, fair and just, allowin' mortals to achieve power beyond their wildest dreams. Great heroes rise, reshapin' mountains, vanquishin' evils, and leadin' their people to glory."

He paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "The Overseers be its hands, guidin' folk through the trials of Integration with wisdom and compassion. They be nearly infallible, though some may succumb to wrath or greed. But they always strive to fulfill their sacred duty."

The dwarf's expression darkened. "Sometimes, though, an Integration fails. A world goes dark, only to reemerge as a blasted hellscape. From these broken worlds come the Worldenders – monsters of such might and cunnin’ that they overwhelm the very realm that birthed 'em. It often takes many worlds, their Overseers leadin' the charge, to destroy these abominations."

He lowered his voice, turning to face Herold directly, as if sharing a terrible secret. "But some... Thirteen, in particular, be reviled throughout the System Realms. Beasts that can only be slain by a Warden – a livin' embodiment of the System itself, sent to cleanse reality of corruption."

The dwarf's eyes swept over his audience, now hanging on his every word. "There be thousands of worlds in the System, but only thirteen have ever fallen to these beasts. The Devourer, Zorn'thaal. The Trickster, Loki'shan. The Endless Flight."

David felt a chill run down his spine as the dwarf fixed him with a grave stare. "Your 'Omega,' or Zorn'thaal as we know him, be by far the oldest – possibly one of the first. If he's seized control of this reality, our task will be far more difficult than we imagined."

As David processed this information, he felt a mix of confusion and dread. When the dwarf spoke Omega's true name, the air seemed to vibrate, as if the word itself held power.

Herold, ever observant, asked, "Why does that name carry such weight?"

The dwarf's response was barely above a whisper, yet it rang out in the stunned silence. "Only once has a Warden ever been destroyed... and it fell to Zorn'thaal's fangs. It's said that the beast absorbed a shard of the Wardens power, and many worlds fell beneath it."

The implications hung heavy in the air. David's mind reeled, trying to reconcile this cosmic horror show with the reality he'd been living for months.

As the wind blew happily through the surrounding trees, the portal's ethereal glow seemed to pulse ominously. The gathered Woodlanders and dwarves stood in stunned silence, the weight of this knowledge pressing down on them like a physical force.

David's wings rustled nervously as he struggled to find words. "So, what you're saying is... we're not just dealing with some overpowered AI or space-wizard invasion. We're talking about…literal world-eating monsters that even the System itself fears?"

The dwarf nodded grimly. "Aye, lad. And if Zorn'thaal – Omega, as ye call him – has truly taken control here, then yer world may already be lost."

Claire, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. "But we're still here. We're still fighting. Doesn't that count for something?"

The dwarf leader turned to her, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. "Aye, lass. It does. Perhaps... perhaps there be hope yet. If ye've truly been dealin' with Zorn'thaal directly and lived to tell the tale, then maybe..."

He trailed off, lost in thought. The silence that followed was electric, filled with equal parts terror and the faintest glimmer of possibility.

"Well," David said, breaking the silence with a grin that was equal parts bravado and gallows humor, "I guess we'd better start figuring out how to kick a world-eater's ass, hadn't we?"

The Dwarves, collectively, looked at him like he was insane.

“What? I'm sure we could…” he trailed off awkwardly.

David's eyes darted to his timer, heart sinking as he realized they had a mere forty minutes left in the Event. The dwarf leader stood before them, a contradiction of emotions - his stocky frame seemed to sag with the weight of their revelations, yet his eyes sparked with a manic energy born of desperation.

"Damn my eyes," the dwarf muttered, his gaze sweeping over the monstrous forms surrounding him. "What a blighted fate ye've been dealt." His words, thick with genuine sorrow, hung in the air like a funeral dirge.

David watched as several dwarves nodded solemnly, their eyes glistening with what could only be described as righteous fury. It struck him then, like a bolt from the blue, that these beings viewed the System not as some malevolent force, but as a cornerstone of their very existence.

It's so weird to see people offended on the System– No, on our behalf like this. I mean, I know the whole situation is fucked, but having someone confirm it beyond all doubt is…well, not gratifying at least.

The leader's chainmail clinked softly as he turned to address one of his company, a dwarf adorned in robes so opulent they seemed to shimmer in the portal's light. "Thorne, ye great bearded fool, get yer arse back through that portal and summon Aelindra. Tell her everything, and don't ye dare leave out a single cursed detail!"

Thorne nodded, his face a mask of grim determination. As he turned towards the portal, David's jaw dropped in astonishment. The dwarf's movements defied logic, each step carrying him impossibly far, as if the very fabric of space bent to accommodate his urgency.

"Sweet mother of fuck," Claire breathed, her usually stoic demeanor cracking in the face of such casual reality-warping.

The leader's gravelly voice snapped their attention back like a whipcrack. "There might be a sliver of hope for ye yet, though it pains me to admit it. The pointy-eared bastards might be yer only salvation now."

Dallas, who'd been uncharacteristically silent, buzzed with curiosity. "Pointy-eared bastards? What in the name of all that's unholy?"

The dwarf's beard twitched in what might have been amusement. "Aye, the elves. They've had their own 'Special Integration,' ye see. The very first, if ye can believe it. And before ye start thinkin' I'm off me rocker, remember - the System don't lie. If it says that's what this is, then by the Forge, that's what it bloody well is."

Claire's massive head tilted, her scales catching the portal's light. "What makes a 'Special Integration' so... special?"

Another robed dwarf chimed in, his voice carrying the weight of ancient tomes. "There've been two, truth be told, though it's not somethin' ye hear bandied about in taverns. The elves were first, aye. But the second..." He trailed off, his eyes growing distant. "T'was an empty world when they found it. Every livin' thing, every blade of grass and drop of water, turned to metal. Frozen in time, they were. The elves sealed it away, mournin' it like it was their own kin."

David's wings rustled uneasily. "Why the hell would they do that?"

His question unleashed a torrent of grumbling from the assembled dwarves, a cacophony of muttered curses about "poncy elven religion" and "star-gazin' loonies" and something about a "Lorekeeper" that David couldn't quite make out.

The leader raised a hand, silencing the group with the ease of long practice. "The tree-huggers believe they're descended from the stars themselves," he explained, his tone a mix of derision and grudging respect. "Their 'Lorekeeper' is said to be as old as the System itself. They sealed that world out of some misguided notion of kinship."

David's mind reeled, trying to process this cosmic clusterfuck of information. "And you think they can actually help us?"

The dwarf nodded solemnly, his eyes hard as flint. "If anyone can, it's them. They've been pokin' and proddin' at the System since before my great-great-grandfather was a twinkle in his father's eye. If there's a way to break Zorn'thaal's stranglehold on yer world, they'll sniff it out."

A commotion erupted near the portal, drawing their attention like moths to a flame. Thorne had returned, his face as pale as freshly quarried marble. "The Moonwhisper's been told," he reported, his voice quavering. "She's... she's comin' here. Personally."

The assembled dwarves erupted into a chorus of gasps and muttered oaths. Even their unflappable leader looked like he'd been smacked upside the head with his own war hammer.

"Well, shit on a shingle," David muttered, exchanging a bewildered glance with Claire. "I'm guessing this Moonwhisper doesn't usually do house calls?"

The leader shook his head, his beard wagging like a dog's tail. "Lad, Aelindra Moonwhisper is to elves what a diamond is to coal. For her to come in person... it's like if the mountain itself decided to get up and take a stroll."

The portal's light began to pulse, a hypnotic rhythm that set David's teeth on edge. The dwarves scrambled to make themselves presentable, adjusting armor and combing beards with frantic energy. Even Herold seemed to straighten up, his antennae quivering with anticipation.

"She comes," the leader intoned, his voice a mix of reverence and trepidation that made David's fur stand on end.

As the portal's glow intensified to near-blinding levels, David couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to plunge headfirst into a whole new dimension of cosmic fuckery. He'd thought he'd seen it all - evolving into a nightmare creature, battling eldritch horrors, navigating the labyrinthine bullshit of the System. But now, faced with the imminent arrival of some ancient, quasi-divine elf who might hold the key to saving their world from Omega's toothy grasp, he realized he hadn't seen jack shit.

"Well," he muttered to Claire, his voice a cocktail of nerves and manic excitement, "looks like the cavalry's arriving. Let's hope they're as badass as advertised."

Claire rumbled in agreement, her massive form coiling like a spring. "Just remember," she growled, "no matter how old or powerful this tree-hugging star-child is, we've gone toe-to-toe with Omega himself. We're not exactly helpless kittens here."

David grinned, feeling a surge of something that might have been confidence or might have been the onset of hysteria. Whatever stepped through that portal, they'd face it together.

And maybe, just maybe, they'd find a way to kick ‘Zorn'thaal’ square in his world-eating nuts.

As the portal's light reached its zenith, a figure burst through that shattered David's every preconception of what an 'elf' should be. Where he'd expected flowing robes and ethereal grace, he got... well, he wasn't quite sure what the hell he was looking at.

The being before them was encased in what could only be described as armor, if a tinfoil origami masterpiece could be called armor. It gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, seeming to shift and ripple like quicksilver as she moved. Intricate patterns etched across its surface pulsed with an inner light, reminiscent of circuit boards but far more organic in design. The helm was a seamless extension of the suit, its visor a dark void that reflected the stunned faces of those gathered.

The figure skidded to a halt with impossible grace, it’s head snapping from side to side as she took in her surroundings with military precision. In the span of heartbeats, she'd catalogued the gathering, the park, and the cityscape beyond. With a soft hiss, her visor dematerialized, revealing a face of such otherworldly beauty that David felt his breath catch in his throat.

She looked absurdly young, more like a college freshman than the ancient being the dwarves had described.

Without missing a beat, she raised her arm, fingers dancing across a device that looked like someone had crossbred a smartphone with a magic crystal. Pulses of light raced down her armor towards the device as she muttered to herself, lost in whatever data she was processing.

The dwarves dropped into deep bows, their earlier irreverence evaporating like morning dew. David felt it then - a wave of power emanating from Aelindra that set his Wildsoul thrumming like a plucked guitar string. Judging by the wide-eyed looks and startled gasps around him, he wasn't the only one feeling it.

A small retinue of elves stumbled through the portal, looking thoroughly scandalized by their leader's abrupt entrance. They were clad in what David could only describe as 'space-age business casual' - clearly mass-produced but of exquisite quality, with cuts and fabrics that whispered of alien fashion trends.

"Fascinating," Aelindra murmured, her voice melodic yet clipped with scientific precision. "Magical sensitivity off the charts. Note: further study required on integration's effect on ambient thaumaturgical fields. Natives capable of sensing magical emanations."

Her gaze drifted, lingering on the exposed rebar of a crumbling wall, the rusted hulks of abandoned vehicles, the towering skyscrapers, and finally, a cell phone tower looming in the distance. Her eyes widened fractionally, a mix of recognition and disbelief flashing across her features.

As Aelindra launched into her rapid-fire interrogation, the dwarves exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions a comical mix of confusion and disdain.

"Electricity? Internal com-what-now?" one muttered, stroking his beard in puzzlement.

Another snorted, rolling his eyes. "Typical elvish nonsense. Next she'll be askin' about the dance of moonbeams on a fairy's arse."

Their leader hushed them with a sharp gesture, but even he couldn't hide his bafflement as the questions grew increasingly esoteric. When Aelindra delved into nuclear physics, several dwarves threw up their hands in exasperation, clearly convinced this was some sort of elaborate elven joke.

"Tiny Bubbles? What do tiny bubble have to do with anythin’?" one dwarf whispered to his companion, who shrugged helplessly.

As the others fell silent, only Herold remained engaged, matching Aelindra's intellectual pace with surprising ease. Their discussion on atomic structure quickly left even the most scientifically-inclined Woodlanders in the dust, soaring to heights that quickly left David blinking stupidly.

Man, I wish Gideon was here. Where the fuck is he?

The dwarves, for their part, had given up any pretense of understanding. They stood there, arms crossed, shaking their heads at what they clearly perceived as the pinnacle of elvish lunacy. One even mimed drinking from a flask, suggesting that perhaps Aelindra had partaken of something stronger than starlight before her arrival.

By the end, Aelindra looked like she was teetering on the edge of hysteria, caught between laughter and tears. Her eyes held a peculiar mix of wonder, sorrow, and something that looked suspiciously like hope.

The way Aelindra looked at their world - equal parts fascination and heartbreak - spoke volumes. It was as if she was seeing echoes of a long-lost past, fragments of a civilization that had once reached for the stars before being dragged back to earth by the cruel hand of fate.

As the intellectual discourse wound down, Aelindra's gaze finally settled on David. Her eyes lit up with an almost manic glee, a stark contrast to the usual horror his appearance elicited. She clapped her hands together like an excited child, her voice lilting with barely contained enthusiasm.

"Oh, blessed starlight! Aren't you just the most adorable little night-flyer? What's your designation, star-keeper?"

The abrupt shift in her demeanor left everyone speechless. David's jaw hung open, his nightmarish visage a far cry from anything resembling 'cute'. The dwarves exchanged baffled looks, clearly wondering if the elf had lost her marbles. Even Claire seemed taken aback, her reptilian features contorting in confusion.

As Aelindra continued to beam at David, her eyes twinkling with an almost religious fervor, it became clear that the elves' connection to the stars ran far deeper – and stranger – than anyone could have imagined. In that moment, standing before a being who saw beauty in his monstrous form, David couldn't shake the feeling that they'd just scratched the surface of a mystery far older than the Integration itself.