The Pauper's Strategy, The Rich Man's Strategy 4

One of the most iconic asymmetric weapons in the natural world is poison.

Poison is terrifying. As I mentioned before, the fear of venomous snakes was so intense that it actually drove the evolution of higher cognition in Homo sapiens.

Used defensively, poison can become an absurdly potent force.

The classic example is the poison dart frog. Its toxin is so lethal that even touching the creature can paralyze an entire body—yes, even something as large as a human—within minutes.

Pufferfish toxin is famous too. They didn't evolve it for hunting. They developed it simply to tell others, Don't you dare eat me.

So here's the question: if poison is so powerful, why haven't poisonous creatures conquered the world?

The answer, as always, is resource allocation. Synthesizing chemical toxins inside your own body while simultaneously evolving immunity to them is an insanely difficult evolutionary hurdle.

Besides, poison isn't exactly an offensive weapon. Very few large predators rely on it. Komodo dragons have venom, sure… but honestly, they'd still wreck humans even without it.

Some creatures do use poison aggressively for hunting, but most employ it to overcome their physical limitations.

The Komodo's venom isn't particularly strong. It bites once, waits for the prey to weaken, then casually follows at a distance. Since its natural prey is much larger than itself, the venom makes perfect sense.

Snakes lack limbs, so they need to paralyze their prey before swallowing—hence the deadly neurotoxins. The cone snail possesses the most powerful venom on Earth, but as a literal snail, it needed that venomous harpoon just to survive as a predator.

And from the perspective of individual survival strategy, poison actually isn't all that useful.

“Huh? Is that so?”

“Let me explain with a simple analogy. Suppose I eat a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pufferfish alone and die. My companions would then assume pufferfish are deadly and never touch them again, right?”

“……?”

“Damn it. I can't remember why they eat them in the first place. Anyway, I die, my companions avoid pufferfish. But what about the dead pufferfish? It saved its species with its lethal toxin, yet it itself dies one hundred percent of the time.”

That's why truly extreme, high-lethality poisons are surprisingly difficult to evolve.

If a toxin is so potent that merely touching it kills you, the information “do not eat this” never gets passed on. Humans figured out how to prepare pufferfish despite the risk of death, didn't they?

In other words, information has to spread before any creature can decide whether to eat something or not.

“That's the power of civilization.”

“It's just madness…”

“Honestly, pufferfish do seem a bit much…”

This is why creatures with poison tend to be flashy. Poison dart frogs have to be brightly colored.

If a lethally toxic frog were drab and plain, it would be indistinguishable from normal frogs and get eaten. Only the ones with distinctive features survived.

“That makes sense.”

There is a similar yet contrasting strategy: the skunk.

Skunks are famous for spraying a foul-smelling substance from glands near their anus. The stench is so powerful that even after a thorough human washing, it can linger for a month.

Yet this spray isn't meant for wolves or bears. It's calibrated for creatures with senses of smell literally a hundred thousand times more sensitive than humans. To them, it must be apocalyptic.

The odor itself isn't particularly toxic, but this actually makes the strategy more effective for individual survival. The mere sight of a skunk's stripes is enough to send predators running.

When you think about it, the “disgust strategy” is surprisingly viable.

“Then I have to ask the next logical question. Why didn't a strategy like the skunk's become dominant?”

Because birds of prey that hunt skunks don't rely on smell.

“Ah.”

“There is no invincible strategy in nature. Just as creatures with poison eventually face predators that develop resistance.”

But magic overcomes these limitations.

“Mys… tery.”

“I get it. From now on I'll make sure to distinguish the terms properly.”

The small ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠jelly I discovered this time can display “a scene repulsive to anyone” by manipulating accumulated flows. A mystery that attacks the Mind.

It's not so different from butterflies that suddenly spread their wings to reveal eye-like patterns on their wings to scare off birds of prey. The difference is that this directly assaults the psyche itself, making it universally effective against nearly all living creatures.

Unlike poison, which is only effective against specific lifeforms, this has broader applications… but it comes with its own weaknesses.

“It's the fundamental limitation of mysteries.”

Correct. While natural poisons usually require a specific antidote, a mystery-based toxin can be instantly dispelled by a single “detoxify” mystery. The same applies here. This mental attack works on everyone, but it can also be blocked by any form of treatment.

Call it “magic resistance.” Whether through high personal stats, defensive mysteries, or even magic-resistant equipment, the effect doesn't simply weaken—it drops straight to zero.

But this isn't really a flaw. I don't want to create something that can defeat incredibly powerful beings. I want to mass-produce low-tier soldiers that can still threaten the lower and middle classes.

With the basic work complete, it was time for tuning. This small jelly… there was no need to give it a fancy species name. I'd just call them Disgust Jellies.

I experimented with an evolution that would let them accumulate flows from the Gumtoad lineage, release them via the gigantification mystery, and also store external flows for their own use.

It was ridiculously easy. They already possessed a mechanism for accumulating flows. When I changed their diet to consume various types of flow instead of specific ones, the desired creature appeared almost immediately.

“The Gumtoads can now officially be called members of the Dessert Legion.”

“Oh? That significant?”

The Gumtoad-based Gumtoad lineage, along with other “gum” type creatures evolved from various amphibians, all share gigantification genes.

These creatures generally prefer low-mana environments if given the choice. Their lifespans are longer, quality of life is higher, and energy efficiency is better.

However, once the surrounding mana pressure or flow exceeds a certain threshold, a switch flips. To resist predators, they grow to absurd sizes.

They convert most of what they consume into body mass. What begins as a creature that would naturally be no larger than a human palm—or at most ten kilograms—balloons into a three-meter-diameter monstrosity capable of swallowing humans whole.

And it's not just about size. Some stop growing at around one and a half to two meters and instead store other mysteries within their bodies.

These ones absorb magic weapons, magical creatures, and various flows floating in the air, storing them internally. As a result, they can wield diverse mysteries almost like a “copy ability.” You could say they use the abilities of whatever they've eaten.

“This is truly remarkable.”

Of course, it's not omnipotent. These are learned mysteries. They can't replicate martial arts or structured magic. They simply become creatures that hoard massive amounts of flow.

That's why they use the mysteries of Disgust Jellies, Flame Jellies, Ice Jellies, and others to accumulate power.

These were descendants of the primitive jellies that had protected themselves with mysteries during the first collision.

I'd thought they'd all gone extinct, but apparently some had survived in hidden corners. They were the lower-class jellies that had overcome the jelly race's weakness of requiring high-mana zones by slowly gathering mana in low-mana areas, living one desperate burst at a time.

They were the main food source for the Gumtoads. The Gumtoads possessed fairly high magic resistance, and since the primitive jellies lived in the ambiguous zone between low and medium mana areas, gathering mana in tiny amounts, the Gumtoads were forced to frequent higher-mana zones where stronger predators lurked just to survive.

Naturally, predators that hunted the Gumtoads appeared as well.

Besides the Gamchi, bats and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠birds had also emerged as the Great Nature expanded. All of them traveled between low-mana and high-mana zones, adapting to various environments and refining their hunting strategies.

The Gumtoads, which had no choice but to live in wetlands, responded with various tactics—either fleeing to rivers or swamps completely devoid of mysteries to avoid their hunters, or aggressively seeking gigantification in high-mana wetlands to make themselves too dangerous to hunt.

I accelerated this habitat-shifting strategy. After all, some amphibians naturally live in deserts. Others live in mountains, jungles, forests, and plains. Since they could survive anywhere, I pushed their evolution to the limit.

I also dramatically increased the primitive jelly species that served as the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Gumtoads' prey. Creatures that licked the Syrup Rivers, consumed primitive lifeforms like Gel and Topping to accumulate mysteries, only to be tragically devoured by the Gumtoads.

Balancing the newly introduced species and ecosystems required an enormous amount of time and effort. Seven separate clones were dedicated solely to this task.

A majestic voice interrupted my thoughts.

Damn it. I had so many ideas, but time was running out.

In that case, I'd have to abandon further habitat diversification even though it was a bit early, and focus on evolving them into the ultimate form of discomfort.

The Gumtoad lineage that screamed at 180 decibels—enough to rupture eardrums without ear protection—just to locate distant mates without using any magic.

The salamander that continuously spat mucus into its water, turning its habitat into a disgusting filth pit.

The newt that, right before being caught, released massive amounts of semen and eggs into the water to create tadpoles even in death.

The legless newt that went berserk, spewing feces, urine, and various toxins as it died.

The large Gumtoad that simply exploded before death, wasting the predator's effort so it couldn't even eat its corpse.

The Disgust Gumtoad that, when approached, suddenly released the Disgust mystery from its back, inducing such violent nausea that nothing could come near it.

The Poison Dart Gumtoad that consumed natural venomous insects and developed a toxin strong enough to kill humans on contact.

Ideas for creatures that weren't difficult to fight but were absolutely disgusting to fight against poured out endlessly. The Gumtoads weren't made to kill their opponents. Honestly, I didn't expect them to.

Even a three-meter-tall giant Gumtoad could be hunted by three ordinary human males armed with stone spears. Objectively speaking, they weren't strong.

But they were filthy. A three-meter creature consumed enormous amounts of food and would eat children if given the chance. They accumulated mysteries, and even if you managed to kill one, its massive body could crush you to death if you weren't careful.

Simply forcing the enemy to expend resources dealing with these things was already a victory.

Gumtoads that screamed at 180 decibels? Ones that scattered feces, urine, semen, eggs, and poison when caught?

They were too much trouble to bother with, so you could honestly just leave them alone.

But when they started screaming, no one could sleep, so you'd have to wear earplugs, grit your teeth, and go exterminate them. If left alone, they'd turn entire wetlands into polluted tadpole breeding pools that had to be dealt with.

In a situation where monsters and beasts were fiercely attacking enemy lines, who could afford to pay attention to something like this?

And if their attention was diverted by these creatures, how would they stop the Lazy Sugar Lumps from spreading their consciousness to summon Yogur-tosoth? Even if they managed to deal with that, would they have any troops left to send into the Dessert Desert?

If the main plan was to destroy the foundation of the opponent's survival, the sub-plan was to destroy the quality of their lives.

“Gum” itself wasn't particularly unhealthy, but it was extremely unpleasant when it stuck to you. These amphibians bearing that name would thoroughly ruin the enemy's quality of life.

The community manager had found a suitably excellent opponent. Well then, shall we see how this goes?