The First Collision
World collisions occur through a gradual process.
First comes the dimensional gate. A gateway opens between worlds, allowing one-way passage for attacking and defending forces.
Though I called them attacks and defenses, players can also send envoys if they desire exchange, or dispatch scouts. Once contact is made, the frequency of dimensional gates increases.
Second is the dimensional passage. A permanent, two-way corridor forms, allowing free travel between worlds. These passages multiply and widen over time.
Third is the dimensional rift. The surfaces of the two worlds begin to merge, enabling passage across entire regions.
Fourth is dimensional fusion. At this stage, the only options left are complete coexistence or eternal war. If one world’s total score reaches twice that of the other, victory is declared automatically.
During this “dimensional gate” phase, I simply modified a few soil jellies and tossed them into the enemy world. These were the soil jellies altered by my Level 3 trait to consume ordinary organic matter instead of nectar.
My creations must be having fun over there, but I’m more curious about how the opponent will react to my ecosystem’s invasion.
What will they think when they enter my world?
Oswald, the player from Earth, thought he had been incredibly lucky.
Wasn’t he being pulled into the game world itself, where he could become a god in the game he had enjoyed like a shut-in? He had no attachments to the real world, and the promise of becoming a true god had been too tempting to resist.
It might sound arrogant, but he was quite good at The Fantasy World Creator. He could clear the highest difficulty with ease and had achieved victory through all sorts of perverse strategies even in unfavorable conditions.
What made him even luckier was the starting environment of his world. A clean, vast oasis covering roughly half the map, paired with suitable plains. The lack of mountains or hills made defense difficult, but it was the perfect terrain for farming, fishing, growing population, and building civilization.
Oswald first created humanoid beings similar to himself, then provided them with plants, trees, and livestock so they could farm and sustain themselves.
As their population grew, they formed societies, mined resources, advanced technology, developed culture, and unlocked magic through understanding the mysteries of the world.
Oswald’s world looked roughly like this:
According to the angel, 390 points exceeded the average. Since this was a game to select gods, there probably weren’t any hopelessly incompetent players. The scores likely weren’t vastly different either. Still, he figured he could take on any faction at least once.
Especially important was pushing his military score past 100 to level it up. Most players focused on internal development in the early stages. His army, with its military trait, should easily crush any opposing forces. Then he could enslave the enemy race and use them to bolster his other development areas.
With that in mind, Oswald selected the finest warriors among his faithful followers and dispatched them to the opposing world.
Standard procedure called for scouting the enemy world before attacking. Since only similar-level worlds were matched at the start, sending a large force was acceptable.
“Huh?”
When Oswald viewed the enemy world through his warriors’ eyes, he couldn’t help but be shocked.
“What the hell is this?”
There was no civilization.
Everywhere he looked, there were sticky jellies and grotesque creatures that seemed to be their variants. Nothing but sand and crumbled rocks.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
No people, no animals, no plants.
In that desolate world, only inedible jellies scurried about while an unbearably harsh sun beat down.
“Th-this can’t be real! What kind of world is this?! How is anyone supposed to survive here?! I was told every world was balanced. What kind of land did the opposing player get?”
Unable to believe it, he advanced his horrified warriors while surveying the environment.
Before long, they discovered a massive lake, also completely covered in frenzied jellies. Again, nothing but jellies—no trace of civilization.
“Level 3 Nectar Spring. Wait a second. A Level 3 Nectar Spring? How the hell did they raise a Nectar Spring to Level 3 without a single world collision? No, wait. That’s not the issue. That’s…”
A warrior approached the lake, scooped up some of the “water,” tasted it, then spat out the viscous liquid with a grimace before praying to the heavens in terror.
‘O God… This doesn’t seem to be the nectar you spoke of…’
In his hand, the squishy yet firm jellies writhed before dropping back into the lake.
There was no nectar in this world.
Or rather… the spring itself, which absorbed mana to produce nectar, still endlessly generated it from the lakebed. But there was no nectar to be found.
Every drop of nectar produced was being consumed. The countless jellies inhabiting this world devoured it all.
While a trace amount of nectar existed in the lake, it was mostly filled with mineral-based jellies that were completely inedible.
‘O God. What are we supposed to fight here? How are we supposed to win…? O God! Answer me!’
Oswald’s vision went dark.
The warriors who invaded my ecosystem all starved to death, unable to consume the jellies. Pathetic. They should have at least raised their Life level to strengthen their digestive systems.
Meanwhile, the soil jellies I had thrown into the enemy player’s ecosystem—a desert with a massive oasis suitable for farming and civilization—had transformed the oasis and its fertile soil into barren sand devoid of nutrients. Their lake was now packed with jellies.
They wouldn’t survive until the next harvest.
Player ‘Oswald’ has requested <Surrender>.
“Surrender? Was that a system feature?”
“It’s a newly added function. Instead of soul annihilation, the defeated god becomes the subordinate of the victor.”
“What are the benefits of accepting surrender?”
“You gain perfectly obedient slaves. Once your world expands, you can delegate detailed management tasks. You can also peacefully absorb everything from the opposing world.”
“What happens if I refuse?”
“Well… the opponent’s soul simply gets annihilated.”
“Any other benefits or drawbacks?”
“None. The system was designed specifically to encourage accepting surrender.”
I see. Then I refuse.
The fewer intelligent beings in this universe, the better.
My jellies continued their ecological destruction.
Player ‘Oswald’ has requested <Conversation>.
Player ‘Oswald’ has requested <Conversation>.
Player ‘Oswald’ has requested <Surrender>.
Persistent. I’m not accepting surrender anyway.
“Can’t I block messages?”
“You can.”
“Then do it.”
Player ‘Oswald’ has been blocked.
Eventually, after one year in world time, the humanoid race resembling the enemy player had all starved to death. Their desert and lake became filled with freshwater jellies that did not consume nectar.
You have achieved victory in the world collision against Player ‘Oswald’.
Your world has expanded.
The two worlds merged, doubling the size of my desert. One half was the Dessert Desert, filled with melted rock and jellies around the Nectar Spring. The other was the Oswald Desert, centered around a freshwater oasis with wetlands of aquatic plants and the ruins of a destroyed civilization. The two areas were roughly equal in size.
“You won. With just these jellies.”
“There was no way I could lose.”
Literally impossible. For me to lose, the enemy would have needed to completely eradicate the Nectar Jellies—the primary producers at the foundation of the ecosystem—from the Nectar Oasis.
How would they do that? The Nectar Spring’s diameter already exceeded 1 km due to continuous expansion. From the surface down to 15 meters deep, it was packed solid with Nectar Jellies.
Well, maybe if they unleashed wide-area magic or created and sprayed some kind of poison. Or if fishermen spent years netting and culling them. There were several methods.
But a civilization at most Level 1 could never accomplish it. They lacked both manpower and technology.
Besides, the enemy’s lake had become an excellent habitat for my jellies. Most players at this stage would only create aquatic plants or fish in their lakes—they wouldn’t introduce powerful predators capable of consuming any organic matter.
“So what will you do now? Normally players seize the enemy civilization and enslave their race, but your strategy is so unusual that I can’t even guess what you’ll do next.”
“Right now my starting point is a desert, so the opponent got matched with desert terrain. But after two or three more collisions, non-desert terrain will appear. To prepare for that, I’ll evolve jellies that thrive on aquatic plants and freshwater instead of nectar. I’ll also turn the Puddings carnivorous so they can completely infiltrate and destroy enemy ecosystems as the most vicious invasive species.”
“What about the plants and animals in the Oswald Desert?”
“I’ll drive the plants to extinction. I’ll modify the herbivores to eat jellies instead. I’ll destroy anything civilization could use and ensure my Dessert Legion overwhelms every other ecosystem.”
“Understood. So you’re not going to build a civilization after all?”
Yeah. No point. I’ll pour everything into Life development to create a perfect ecosystem and crush any civilization that dabbles in pathetic technology or magic.
As a victory reward, you have obtained a new World Trait. World Traits are granted to all your creations and any externally introduced entities.
“In that case, I shall propose the following traits for Biin’s world.”
The angel displayed three trait cards before me.
『Construction Expert: Creatures become proficient in civil engineering. Advantageous for <Industry> development.』
『Technological Inspiration: Creatures gain powerful technological inspiration. Advantageous for <Technology> development.』
『High Intelligence: Creatures’ intelligence greatly increases. High-intelligence races are advantageous for <Politics> and <Technology> development.』
Was this angel picking a fight with me?
“Not at all. I merely selected the options most beneficial to your ‘civilization.’”
I told you I’m not raising one. Why are you trying to insert filthy intelligent beings into my perfect ecosystem?
I looked over the options for a while, then asked something that occurred to me.
“How far does ‘construction’ extend?”
“Naturally, it includes using external materials to build structures, or altering, removing, or creating natural terrain features according to an intelligent being’s purpose.”
After hearing that definition, I asked again.
“Does a beaver building a dam count as construction?”
“Pardon? Ah… yes. Even with low intelligence, it is clearly civil engineering.”
“Then what about unintelligent corals forming colonies and building massive reefs? They use external nutrients as materials to develop structures from their own bodies, creating new terrain where other life forms can reside. Does that count?”
“……”
“……”
“Please wait while I contact my superiors.”
The angel disappeared from my sight, then returned moments later with a slightly tearful voice.
“Yes… I received confirmation. Even though it is a purely biological mechanism, it counts as civil engineering.”
“Then I’ll take the 『Construction Expert』 trait.”
After obtaining the trait, I created a new life form to actively utilize it.
[Sponge Pudding] has evolved into [Coral Gummy].
The Nectar Oasis is too meager. My goal is the Nectar Sea.
The thought of countless jellies and Puddings, along with a beautiful and majestic Gummy Great Reef, filling the Nectar Sea made me feel strangely excited.