The Caterpillar Who Would Be a Fairy

I think, therefore I am alive.

"Kweeeek."

Waking up refreshed, I stared blankly up at the sky.

I had no idea how long I'd slept, but the sun was in the exact same spot as before I closed my eyes.

After basking in the warm sunlight and savoring the sweet leisure of a victor for a brief moment, I pulled up my status window to check on the evolution I'd seen before falling asleep.

Whoa. Level 8? Did I seriously gain four levels just from killing that baby crow?

I stared in awe at my stats and skills, which had skyrocketed compared to before my encounter with the baby crow.

Honestly, seeing them go up this much made me briefly wonder if I should try hunting another one.

Of course, I never actually wanted to see one of those things again.

Even now, just thinking about that baby crow made the spot where its beak had impaled me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠throb with phantom pain.

So, how do I evolve?

I had already surpassed the level required for my first evolution.

But where was I supposed to do it?

If it happened automatically, I should have evolved already, but I was still just a caterpillar monster.

As if hearing my dilemma, the status window responded.

Oh.

I marveled at the three distinct options laid out before me.

Since this was my very first evolution, I'd expected two choices at most.

And two of them even had stars next to them!

Even without the stars, they sounded far from ordinary, but those little markers made them look incredibly important.

"Strong Caterpillar" was obviously just a minor upgrade to my current state, so I didn't give it a second thought.

Why on earth would I choose that when there were other, much cooler options?

The real contenders were "Worm Larva" and "Blood Caterpillar."

Decisions, decisions.

I immediately ruled out the first option and weighed the other two.

Both were highly appealing paths, making it a genuinely tough choice.

A "Worm Larva" would be the juvenile form of those massive, terrifying worms that burst from the earth to crush everything in their path.

If I evolved into a Worm Larva, my life as a monster would be smooth sailing.

But "Blood Caterpillar" really catches my eye. The only reason it unlocked this early must be because I killed that baby crow.

Even to my untrained eyes, "Blood Caterpillar" didn't seem like something that should appear in a basic first evolution.

It had to be a reward for my feat. I was a weak, pathetic caterpillar, yet I had successfully hunted a bird.

After all, a tiny, fragile bug had taken down an actual avian predator.

Both are tempting, but I should probably go with the Blood Caterpillar.

My heart was already leaning heavily toward the Blood Caterpillar over the Worm Larva.

The reason lay in my ultimate goal.

My goal was to regain my human form.

If I became a giant worm, I'd be a highly successful monster, but evolving back into a humanoid would become practically impossible.

No matter how strong it was, there was no reason to choose it.

The only reason I'd even hesitated was a fleeting, lazy thought of just living out an easy life as a powerful monster.

After all, reclaiming a human form—especially becoming a fairy, whose evolutionary path was completely shrouded in mystery—was bound to be an incredibly grueling journey.

Let's check the description first.

After reading the description provided by the status window, I chose to evolve without a moment's hesitation.

There was absolutely nothing in the text that raised any red flags.

I'd been slightly worried that a name like "Blood Caterpillar" might ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠come with some nasty penalty, like a bloodlust-induced frenzy, but it seemed perfectly safe.

The moment I finalized the choice, my status window shifted.

First, my species had officially changed to Blood Caterpillar.

On top of that, two new skills had been added: Spit and Acidic Blood.

They seemed to be the racial skills inherent to my new form.

Let's give them a test run.

I wiggled over toward the dead baby crow nearby to test my newly acquired abilities.

I'd likely have to use them against living creatures and monsters in the future, so I needed to know what I was working with.

Even if it was just a corpse, it would still serve as a decent gauge for their destructive power.

Do I just... try to spit like a human would?

"Gwek."

Absolutely nothing came out of my mouth.

Seeing as not even a drop of saliva emerged, it clearly wasn't as simple as mimicking a human spit.

Then how on earth was I supposed to use this Spit skill?

It was literally called Spit. If I couldn't even spit, the skill was completely useless!

"Gwek."

Thinking I might be doing it wrong, I kept trying to activate Spit in slightly different ways.

But I failed, time and time again.

Oh, it's on. Let's see who wins this.

I hadn't survived a near-death experience and evolved just to end up with a broken skill I couldn't even use.

Fueled by sheer stubbornness, I gave it another shot.

Instead of trying to spit, I channeled the feeling of a horrific hangover—the kind where you violently heave up everything inside your body the morning after a heavy night of drinking.

"Gweeeeeeek!"

As if confirming I'd finally found the right trigger, a torrent of dark, crimson blood erupted from my mouth, splashing directly onto the baby crow.

I did it...!

Because I had squeezed out every ounce of my energy to heave it up, my vision spun wildly, but I forced myself to stay conscious to see the results.

The blood completely coated the baby crow, emitting a loud, sizzling hiss as the corpse began to shrink.

The intense acidity of my blood was literally melting it away.

Watching the baby crow dissolve into nothingness, a single thought crossed my mind.

Wait, isn't this totally broken...?

Even if the baby crow's flesh was already dead and soft, melting it down this quickly was insane.

The sheer potency was far too overwhelming to belong to the blood of a mere caterpillar.

With this kind of power, I could probably keep hunting baby crows.

All I had to do was spit, run away, and let the poison and acid do the rest.

Is my life finally on easy mode...?

I felt a sudden surge of hope, convinced that my life as a monster was finally looking up.

Right up until the world suddenly spun out of control.

As I watched the melting crow, my vision blurred and tilted violently.

Huh...?

When I found myself unable to even hold my body upright, I realized something was terribly wrong.

And I knew exactly what this sensation was.

It was a condition I had lived with constantly back when I was human.

Anemia...? Don't tell me I got anemic just from using my blood as a weapon...?

In hindsight, it made perfect sense.

I had sprayed out a massive volume of blood relative to my tiny caterpillar body. How much blood could I possibly have left inside me?

But come on, I was a monster now!

Monsters are supposed to be perfectly fine even after bleeding all over the place!

Wait... do blood-using monsters actually just fight while pushing through severe anemia?

Somehow, I had stumbled upon the shocking truth that blood-manipulating monsters simply had incredible pain tolerance against anemia.

Maybe it was because I was a monster myself now, but I felt a sudden, profound respect for them.

Fighting while constantly dealing with a spinning head and low blood pressure?

That was my future now, and I could barely even bear to imagine it.

But regardless of how hard it was to imagine, I had to do it.

And to do that, I needed to get some hearty food in me first.

Food. Meat.

I looked over to where the baby crow had been, desperate to fill my shriveled, blood-depleted stomach.

Eating meat would definitely be much better for my recovery than chewing on leaves.

The only problem was that the baby crow no longer existed in this world.

Because I had literally just melted it into oblivion.

Ah.

Staring blankly at the puddle of bloody sludge that used to be my meal, I dragged my heavy body around and headed toward the bushes.

Since there was no meat left, I'd have to settle for a salad.

I tried my best not to look back, wanting to leave my regrets behind.

My skill... My food...

But it wasn't easy.

If I had actually eaten it, who knows? I might have absorbed a new skill.

Left with no other choice, I began a rather pathetic meal—taking a bite of a leaf, then staring wistfully at the spot where the crow had been, like a miser staring at a hanging fish to flavor his rice.

I kept eating until I had completely stripped a bush bare. Only after my stomach was full did I realize something crucial.

Leaves no longer granted me any experience points.

Are you telling me I have to actually ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hunt now...?

I never expected that the leaves, which used to give me a solid 10% EXP each, would stop giving me anything at all just because I evolved once.

Having hoped to level up quickly by grazing on the abundant foliage around me, I slumped and crawled forward in disappointment.

I had to hunt now.

I supposed I could start by catching other bugs.

Even though I was a caterpillar, I was still a monster. I was about the size of two adult fingers put together, so hunting smaller insects should be a breeze.

And if things got dangerous, I could always just melt them with my blood.

Just you wait, world. I'm coming for you.

The prey who did nothing but chew on leaves until recently was now a predator, heading out to hunt.

Rustle.

Over there!

"Gwek!"

I crawled vigorously toward the bush where the sound had come from.

I needed to hunt, level up, and evolve as quickly as possible.

Hopefully, my next stage would be a butterfly.

Fairies had wings like butterflies, so there was a high chance they evolved from them.

Lost in these hopeful thoughts, I pushed past the leaves—and immediately started wiggling backward in reverse.

Growl...

Because a literal wild dog was currently taking a nap right there.

Let's come back here later. When I'm a bit bigger. I'll get you next time, you beast...!

A wild dog was still far too large and powerful for me to hunt.