Law of the Jungle (2)
“[…wake up! Please, you have to pull yourself together!]”
Belba’s voice sounded agonizingly slow, dragging out like an unpleasant screech from a broken cassette tape.
Everything in the world was like that now.
The terrified children holding their breath, Miho’s weeping, the wind grazing my ears, and the writhe of countless vines undulating with naked, unmistakable malice—every single movement unfolded at a terrifying crawl that sent chills down my spine.
Skrrrrt—
High above, an elongated vine shot toward me like a spear. I tried to raise my blade, but my body refused to obey my racing thoughts. Abandoning the swing without hesitation, I threw myself across the ground in a desperate roll.
Instantly, root tips bristled up from the dirt like barbed spikes. But that was fine. The vibrant green vines were as hard as tempered steel, but the brownish roots crawling along the earth could be cleaved easily enough. Predicting the exact timing of their emergence, I slashed my sword. The roots tumbled onto the soil, cleanly severed before they could ever graze my flesh.
“[Oh.]”
There was no attack in this world I couldn't react to. The only problem was that my physical frame couldn't keep up with my mind.
I took a measured step backward, refusing to be reckless. By now, the monster must have realized that my reaction speed had escalated drastically. If I kept pressing forward blindly, it would likely retreat into a defensive stance—and if it decided to use that sea of vines purely to protect itself, no trick in my arsenal would ever pierce through.
The duration granted by the Elixir of Awakening was five minutes. While that might sound like plenty of time, nearly thirty seconds had already slipped away.
Shifting my center of gravity forward, I kicked off the dirt in an explosive burst. Dozens of vines surged toward me as if they had been lying in wait. Their sheer volume was menacing, yet upon closer inspection, the trajectory of each strike drew a straight, linear path.
My skull burned like molten lead. Calculating, tracking, and dissecting dozens of incoming vectors in under a fraction of a second carried a horrific cognitive recoil. Yet the moment I dove deeper into its territory, hundreds of additional vines rose like a palisade to shut me out.
There was simply no forcing through that. Twisting my torso mid-stride, I lopped off a cluster of sneaky roots attempting to ambush me from below and vaulted backward once more.
My breath scraped raw against the back of my throat. The widening rift between my mind and flesh was taking its toll. My movements had far exceeded the limits of my permitted stamina and muscle capacity, and I could feel my limbs growing heavier and slower by the second.
I wouldn't get many more chances. I had to end this in a single strike.
Wiping away the trickle of blood running down my chin, I glared at the hideous pink blossom striding across the soil on hundreds of root-legs. The moment it twitched, I concentrated my Intimidation onto a single focal point, unleashing it like a hammer before charging straight forward.
Pshwaaaa!
Right on cue, roots erupted through the loam. Instead of wasting my blade, I coated my boot in mana and stomped down with full force. A crackle of sparks hissed out as the roots charred to cinders—the fruit of the lightning magic I had diligently honed without cutting corners. Because I had conserved my sword arm, I had enough leeway to swat away an incoming vine. Tilting the flat of my dagger at a sharp angle, I deflected the strike harmlessly into the empty air.
What?
This time, I was the one taken aback. Senses sharpened to the bleeding edge had successfully parried an attack traveling faster than a launched arrow. This was my moment. The opportune window had opened. My understanding and mastery were leaping forward in real time—whether spurred by sheer desperation or the heightened clarity of the elixir.
If not now, then never.
Watching hundreds of tendrils squirm in the frozen expanse of my perception, I channeled every drop of mana coursing through my body. The monster’s forward defenses were surprisingly loose. That was because I hadn't managed to pierce a single vine until now; it had judged that relentlessly pressing the offensive carried zero risk.
And it wasn't wrong. Up until this very moment, I truly had lacked any means of severing those iron-hard tendrils.
The blade began to vibrate violently in my grip. I had channeled mana externally before, and this wasn't fundamentally different. If you genuinely perceived the sword as an extension of your arm, mana flowed accordingly. Yet simple mana reinforcement wouldn't suffice here. That level of power would never breach its defenses.
It was the supreme secret recorded on the final page of every swordsmanship manual I had ever bought. The pinnacle of martial enlightenment, an attainment whose wielders were treated as national strategic assets in any dimension.
Once my proficiency had risen and my control over mana matured, I had attempted to forge it myself.
Though every manual described the trick slightly differently, the fundamental essence remained the same: Compress your mana to its absolute limit, infuse it with your unyielding will, and compress it once more.
In truth, a physical sword wasn't even strictly necessary. True Swordmasters were said to manifest a blade of pure mana without any medium at all, holding steadfast to the absolute conviction that their empty hand gripped a sword. But it had never been easy. No matter how much mana I poured into a hilt, it refused to condense past a certain threshold. When I tried without a weapon, the gathered energy gathered briefly before dissipating into thin air like smoke.
The gap in accumulated years was simply too vast. It had felt like an insurmountable wall. After all, Master-class combatants had spent decades or centuries swinging their blades to grasp that elusive sensation. Reaching that height in less than a single year was supposed to be impossible.
“[This is… impossible…]”
Yet the blade in my hand was now bathed in a faint, ethereal luminance. It looked like pale moonlight gazing down upon a pitch-black night. The manuals had claimed a true sword would blaze with a radiant, overwhelming luster, so this pale shimmer was likely an incomplete failure. Even so, Plantera began scuttling backward in evident alarm.
The sword felt weightless. With a flick of my wrist, I casually swatted aside a convulsing vine.
Thud.
The severed emerald tendril hit the dirt, writhing uselessly. White, milky sap spewed violently from the clean cross-section, thrashing wildly like a ruptured hose with failed water pressure. I couldn't evade all of it. A mild venom sizzled against my skin, sending sharp stabs of pain through my flesh, but I gritted my teeth and ignored it.
This was truly my final chance. Perhaps because I had forced out an incomplete Aura forbidden to my current realm, my body was rapidly shutting down. My cognition was faltering, and my heartbeat grew sluggish. Which meant I couldn't afford to stop. I was reminded of sharks that drowned the moment they ceased swimming.
Cleaving through five vines blocking my path like a solid wall, I forced down the hot blood welling in my throat and lunged forward once more.
The grotesque pink flower loomed large before me, its revolting bulk easily twice my size.
Pffffft—!
As I closed the distance, the tightly shut petals burst open, blasting a cloud of magenta spores directly into my face. Common sense screamed that it was toxic, but weaving around it while charging was out of the question. Holding my breath, I plunged straight through the haze.
In that instant, my footing locked up with a jarring snap.
A root had coiled around my only remaining good leg. When had it crept up on me? The spores evidently carried a numbing agent that deadened physical perception. Cutting through the stabbing headache, a sickeningly sweet aroma drifted into my nostrils, coaxing me like a drowsy, dreamlike trance.
I just want to bury myself in those petals and sleep forever…
“[Are you serious?!]”
“Of course it’s bullshit.”
A desperate situation. Agonizing torment. And in that darkest moment, an effortless escape offered on a silver platter. It was an extraordinarily insidious trap designed to prey upon the deepest biological instincts of living things. Smirking at the monster's cunning, I cleaved the root binding my ankle in twain.
We lived in an era where creatures existed solely because they were alive. Wealth, honor, authority, romance—none of the modern ideals that had once given life meaning existed in this untamed wilderness. Yet every creature born onto this soil still clung desperately to survival.
Why? For what purpose?
Back in my past life, I had seen so many people lose their purpose and succumb to despair. A pianist who lost their hands. A marksman who lost their eyes. A marathon runner who lost both legs. A kindergarten teacher who lost their child. What were they supposed to live for now? What meaning remained in their lives?
I honestly didn't know. But in this world, where everyone was an enemy to everyone else and the only rule was to kill or be killed, life was precious simply because it existed.
Did living really require an elaborate excuse?
I threw myself across the ground. Both of my ankles were pulverized, leaving me unable to stand. Tumble-rolling across the dirt, I slammed both palms against the earth with everything I had. My body catapulted into the air like a coiled spring, and in that split second, dozens of pursuing roots impaled me through and through.
Thwack! Squilch!
The sickening sound of wood punching through human meat rang out with terrifying clarity. Belba let out a piercing, shattered scream.
“[No, no! Just a little longer! Please, just hold on a little longer! I'll find a way, I'll save you—!]”
And then her voice cut out entirely.
I looked down at the root protruding through the center of my chest, drenched in vivid crimson blood. How much longer could I survive like this? Ten seconds at best? Even that felt like absurdly wishful optimism.
“You… didn't kill me, did you?”
I wasn't dead yet. Not quite. And the sword gripped in my hand still clung to that pale, stubborn moonlight.
Covered in venom and hallucinogenic spores. Drenched from head to toe in gore. Pierced, splintered, and mangled until no naked eye could distinguish me from a rotting corpse. Even so, I was still breathing.
The moment Plantera realized that fact, it frantically shot its remaining vines forward—but the swing of my arm was far faster.
“[Ah… ah…]”
The thrusting sword parted the fleshy petals like wet paper, driving deep past the hilt until my arm sank in to the elbow, shattering the beating core nestled within.
“[AAAAAAAHHHHHHH—!]”
Gasp. Air flooded back into my lungs.
Under the rejuvenating influence of a level-up, my mangled flesh began realigning itself. It wouldn't mend me completely, but it was enough to drag me back from death's doorstep to a state where living was at least tolerable.
As my dull senses flared back to life, an agonizing screech battered my eardrums. Plantera’s death rattle was shaking the entire jungle to its roots. The partially closed flower unfurled into a grotesque final bloom before crumbling into fine, grey ash that scattered across the loam. The roots impaling my torso disintegrated into the same powdery soot, and my limp body collapsed flat onto the dirt.
Man, I must look pathetic right now. With the kids watching, too…
I tried to push myself up, but my muscles refused to muster any strength. Resigned, I barely managed to roll over onto my back, staring blankly up at the canopy above.
“I actually… lived…”
My eyelids grew impossibly heavy. I had drained my mana reserves to absolute zero and crossed into a martial realm far beyond what my body was permitted to touch. My brain was summarily shutting down operations. But I couldn't afford to pass out here. Collapsing unconscious in the middle of a primordial jungle was practically begging the nearest predator to come devour me. I had to get up, somehow…
“[Rest for a moment. I'll protect you.]”
Through my hazy, half-lidded vision, a shimmering translucent barrier expanded across the clearing. It rippled gently, resembling heat haze or an iridescent soap bubble. Was that… Belba’s doing?
“Even if you… do this…”
“[It's all right.]”
Well, if she said so. Accepting Belba’s goodwill, I let my heavy eyelids fall shut. The world faded into quiet, serene stillness as my consciousness sank deeper into the abyss than it ever had before.
Physical body has reached its limit.
Commencing evolution.