Taking refuge in the forest, our protagonist was surrounded by majestic trees that brimmed with vibrancy, raw energy which permeated every pore of his body.

Remorse and trepidation came flooding in along with the paralysing findings of this terrible wilderness no soul could hope to subdue, two deep feelings that put Linlin on edge.

Hindsight dictates that he should have remained in his position on the ash-covered plateau. At least the danger was visible from miles away. Unlike there. Linlin really didn’t have such good fortune here.

Getting lost aimlessly only made his famished condition worse. His plight did not end there. Quite frankly, he should have realised what he’d to eventually deal with sooner. It wasn’t like he didn’t receive any warning signals.

Rather, Linlin just opted to ignore them. Around here, surrounded by all the veggie giants dwarfing even skyscrapers, energy was plentiful, for sure. That in itself should have been splendid.

However, Linlin had no reason to feel happy about anything. Because the question about availability and adequacy for someone like him had only one answer. Thoughts about profits of any kind were a pipe dream, if nothing else.

The gaseous mess of steroids, as he believed the air was, kept changing his body in uncharacteristically mysterious ways he had never anticipated. He had flickering sparks coming from his fingertips for no discernible reason, just to give an example.

His bones sometimes felt like jelly, at others, they became so hard for some inexplicable reason they caused his flesh to ache. When he miscalculated the power in his muscles, his ruckus often made it easy to mistake him for a trampling group of city pedestrians.

There is no doubt that such noise was totally misplaced here of all places. Linlin’s eyes tingled to varying degrees and his nose caught whiffs he was certain no human should smell. Was he slowly turning into a monster? Or would he go insane first?

Linlin had no real clue as to what the answer was. The only thing our protagonist knew for certain was that this place wasn’t made for him even if he tiptoed his way around.

The only thing to be found behind the ash-covered hills was terror incarnate! Whichever direction he chose, it wouldn’t matter. Everywhere he went, it was the same.

The cradle of god-killers, a wooded hell hidden from the suns under thick foliage, audaciously blessed by mother nature. It felt too real, too forced, all the murders, scams, and illusions he encountered–––as if a nightmare had come true.

It was a close match to the way Linlin felt about this cursed place. Under ill-formed, multi-pattered, rainbow-coloured, distinctively smelling leafages were barbs and grape-like fruits that exploded when chanced upon, releasing dangerous substances.

When someone walked too close to their trunks, the branches turned into what looked like a fusion between porcupines and a leaf swatter. Two-storey-tall beasts devoured the unwary creatures, while wasps not much smaller swarmed the remains.

If they happened upon an easy catch on the way, they wouldn’t refuse it at all, sure! And our protagonist... Linlin was equally certain he was prey in their beady eyes.

There were also the offshoots that someone of Linlin’s stature had to be attentive to follow if he was to get anywhere in this dreadful maze.

By no means was he short, only that his surroundings were magnified by comparison. Did he seem short as compared to a house? Certainly!

Did a three-storey mansion appear impressive here? Not by a long shot. It could be easily flattened by creatures Linlin had seen from afar.

Some of them shot up into the heavens, ascended to the sky, or fell into hell a hundred metres or so above the swampy ground, and sometimes they simply disappeared under his unsteady feet, screams accompanying the unfortunates’ eternal disappearance.

With those sunken-in, tired eyes he saw it all. In addition, there is a lumberjack’s nightmare running afoul here. The trees moved on their own.

Whacking, swatting, crushing, punishing, fighting even... their daily routines are a sadistic odyssey bathed in blood and flesh. As our protagonist discovered, most atrocious situations were his own doing–––since he unwittingly sprung the trap aimed at those bigger, particularly in the department of mass.

Sweet-smelling pollen led his nozzle by the nose, misleading scents stuck to his tongue like flesh to the bones while the air was still ripe with overflowing vitality mutating his body. Hallucinogenics of the worst kind, he met.

The kind that turned every step into an intricate negotiation with the Reaper. Occasionally, deliberate steps forward involved overcoming metre-high barriers impossible to circumvent, and at other times unfolding wings and flying over dark chasms.

He lacked the necessary equipment for both, a regrettable situation. Linlin had neither tools nor wings at his disposal. He saw strange creatures the size of taciturn elephants hovering in the air as their big belly-buttons wiggled to the breeze’s broken tune from near rather than shrieking birds and such gregarious terror that he dared not approach.

Those brethren, he hoped, operated at much higher levels than those frequented by him. An encounter with them was the least he needed right now. However, he remained wary of the pseudo elephant creatures too.

With long sticks ending in pointed eyes without eyelashes, saw-tooth-like openings positioned somewhere in the middle of a squirming mass that filtered the air, and headless snake-like legs moving about... Linlin got the creeps. They could somehow fly.

Even more frighteningly, these marvellous creatures went their way under the watchful eye of a school of their own. So far, he had encountered countless monsters, and this was just one harrowing example.

Even the best efforts could not make head nor tail out of the strangeness Linlin found himself lost in. Even so, the conclusion was the same: These spooky woods were unquestionably not a place our protagonist belonged, or at least not while so pitifully weak.

In any case, Linlin’s twisted mind never complained about the matter. On the contrary, he found this glaring difference somewhat soothing.

Along with the thrills and countless surprises, it was a whole new world to explore. Nobody was chasing him. No one screamed hysterically for blood and murder. Admittedly, it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine. Not even close.

In the last two days, our protagonist had been walking non-stop through this picturesque world featuring scenery straight out of an afternoon reverie–––or, alternatively, heavy drug consumption.

Because of this, his mood was particularly dark. On the first day, it was foul, on the second, melancholic, and by the third, gloomy, as if relaxation was only a distant memory.

Armed with the last remnants of modern splendour–––some rags arguably held together by the strangely sticky glue he soaked up just yesterday–––and certainly no obvious superhuman power like any other creature out there happily defying the laws of physics, Linlin found it hard to cope with his savage compatriots.

Trying to survive among these peers, even if only barely, was a mammoth task. It was clear that the ongoing mutation continued to do a cruel number on our protagonist.

Even lowly worms couldn’t be scared away by his sparks, a strange but useless gimmick he lacked control over. Luckily, even by the standards of a needy meal, his boney meat was considered too insignificant for anyone to lust after.

Clearly, he was at the bottom of this food chain. He was the grunt no one respected. An insect in every aspect but intelligence. He had no way of knowing for sure... it was just a feeling he clutched onto like a drowning man to the lifebelt.

Linlin’s stomach rumbled, which got him thinking. Weaker life forms lived in large numbers, rarely leaving their designated shelters because predators were plentiful and conditions difficult.

It is evident that Linlin was even beneath them, alone, with an empty stomach, thirsty gullet, and no shelter to call home. The worst of all possible scenarios. It was the first time in his entire strenuous life that Linlin felt so insignificant.

Likewise, this deduction was supported by sufficient evidence. Five nightmarish hours ago, he’d been chased by a mutated, casein-whey-infused boar thrice his size with monkey ancestry, growing bombs instead of hair!

While he was trying to outrun the beast, it had lazily pursued him, its razor-sharp front paws splitting in half with a shit-eating grin, snapping shut and opening again for fun.

In spite of the fact that a long time had passed in that awful manner, Linlin still vividly remembered a certain unassuming branch wiggling under his feet at the time.

His belief in science was defied during that hour. A totally unscientific crack had opened, revealing a maw and a screeching mythological creature that ate up the welcome meal.

‘It is only a thick knot that I stepped on in my hurry,’ Linlin still couldn’t believe it. There’d been a tongue growing countless eyes looking up and down at his sorry figure, thereafter retreating, leaving behind but a contemptuous growl.

Even now, Linlin uttered a muffled curse at the memory. In any case, it distracted him from the shudder running down his spine... and the massive biotope he walked upon that seemed more like one gargantuan food storage the further he came.

But... was that a valid interpretation? Nobody emerged from behind the trunk to answer this. Linlin could only keep his suspicions and courageously proceed–––or at least that was on his agenda.

But dear forest wanted the numb man to perform another acrobatic act today. Unfavourable circumstances presented themselves to him.

In front... a hill of lignified brambles? Right a bottomless hole where some strange gases kept making him sick, behind a sunflower that looked very offended by his absentminded trespassing, and behind that, another wood wall sprung out of nowhere?

Linlin focused on the lignified brambles. Its fruits and stems were most likely poisonous, a point which his limited imagination readily acknowledged.

A camion-sized bird would now and then fall into the chasm, causing an almost inaudible burp to come to his notice. Did he really hear that, or was it only an illusion?

A result of his overworked nerves, perhaps? Hopefully. Linlin cursed under his breath and carefully planned the next uphill climb against some annoying, not at all vegetarian vegetation.

“Just what has become of me,” he muttered listlessly as he clung to his identity. A man even the dreadful slaughterhouse called sweet home could not expire had fallen to the rank of a verminous bottom feeder just like that.

This helpless feeling gnawing at even his intestines was no pleasure at all! His stomach rumbled once more. In order to relieve this ever-growing pain in the arse, he forced down some random weed and choked on the taste.

It was at least better than the water he had discovered for himself: Bulky, calycinal, possibly fly-eating mucus from flowers no larger than a grown man’s torso–––amazingly small in this magnified universe.

It was dirt water to his taste buds. With dumplings. At least somewhat filling, no? Crack. Linlin’s teeth unjustly suffered from his anger. ‘Madness, utter nonsensical madness,’ our protagonist’s mind screamed.

The clock was ticking, and his patience was dwindling. An immense forest may seem like a land of plenty. Yet where was his food? The water? How about anything moving and non-dangerous?

Therein lied the snag. There were plenty of randomly filled, lignified crates each tasting worse than the last, some dangerous bulgy leaves, and creepy sludge to satisfy his most urgent need for moisture. Water sources equalled brutal encounters equalled death.

It was quite easy to understand. Anything remotely edible was well protected by other patient creatures. They weren’t stupid, after all.

They were experts at adapting to dangerous situations. ‘…’ Since when did it become necessary to suck on slightly poisonous pine needles…?

‘Quit thinking, stupid me!’ Linlin could hardly wait to find refuge and get some much-needed rest and dream. Of his past self. To slap! At least in dreams, he could convey a warning not to further climb trees piercing the sky.

Meanwhile, our protagonist was stuck with moving upward because of a lack of alternatives, something he definitively couldn’t handle in the long run. It’d kill him eventually.

More than once, as various moribund lifeforms around him encountered what smelt and looked like certain doom, Linlin overcame the obstacles with rational actions and meticulous observations.

But there will be a time when his senses dulled. As Linlin grew constantly more tired, he fervently searched for a safe place to stay now more than ever.

It was, however, hard to find a safe haven high up the gargantuan trees. It resembled a curse trapped in a time spiral: The scenery remained a masterful replica of what thrived below, only the creatures became deadlier.

‘What am I plotting anyway? The goal is to struggle for survival? That doesn’t seem to necessitate scaling unknown mammoth trees, does it?

Heh, surely not. Searching for food and drink? Same, there are better places to look for. To follow this strange calling I’ve had from the very beginning, the one I can’t seem to ignore for whatever reason?

All it ever does is help me discover an eternal maze composed of small branches, decayed wooden knobs, verdant, horizontally deviating latches, birds spotting an unhappy insect too malnourished to fit between their car-like beaks, a whole raft of hallucinogenic flowers, concealed predators and a shitload of other dangerous stuff.’

It was absolutely glorious. Linlin cursed at his powerlessness once more, yet his happiness prevailed. It did not make any sense at all. It was as if his emotions were split between two distinctive entities sharing them.

Then there was Linlin’s instinctive desire for power that accompanied his ongoing mutation, a desire so strong that he could hardly think of anything else at times.

Linlin was sure he would never be able to live in this world without inconceivable strength. He had to get that. He had to get it quickly, given his very first encounter with another lifeform.

And no, it wasn’t about the hippo-sized monstrosity. He had actually encountered that beast later. As our protagonist groaned, he absentmindedly looked down at what was once a pair of handmade quality sandals worn by desert dwellers and tried to get that thought out of his head.

Milled-off planks, laced with thin strings piercing into inflamed flesh, greeted his eyes. Frenetic instinct demanded he make away with it before it cost him a foot or two.

And that he did. Linlin watched its steady descent with weary eyes, mulling over certain matters. It was absolutely necessary for him to cover his feet, but if it came at the cost of inflammation or possibly infestation, our protagonist would have to pass.

His sandals kept spiralling downward, further and further... until he saw something absolutely breathtaking. Suddenly, an unassuming mushroom tilted forward, its cape splitting open, exposing the upper body of a seductive woman.

Whatever that thing was, it licked the discharged sandals as if they were the most delectable treat in the world. Defeated, Linlin spat a mouthful of saliva and disappeared between many forks and thick mist, for fear he would be the next to perish.

Even his sandals weren’t spared such brutal treatment at the hands of such a deranged creature, so what about him, the ex-wearer? Now, he really couldn’t help thinking of that traumatising first encounter...

The event crossed his unrested abyssal black eyes as if mocking him for wanting to forget. Linlin sighed, hunched down, and no longer repressed the memory, only calmly waiting for the flood to end before continuing his journey.

The incident took place a day ago, late in the morning. As he got up from his hiding spot, he decided which direction to head in. There it was, sitting on a branch.

It was a pink squirrel the size of a Saint Bernard staring at him, its unsettlingly intelligent eyes full of question marks. Ignoring all the strangeness, Linlin wasn’t even bothered by how it lay indolently on a brittle twig despite its obvious weight. For him, he simply saw his first proper meal in ages.

Unfortunately, once the cute little thing saw his crooked intentions, Linlin’s worldview changed forever. As quickly as possible, he dived headlong for the closest cluster of bushes leading somewhere, all to escape the furry, berserk-turned lifeform wearing choppers that would make any Great White Shark reverently proclaim it to be its ancestor.

The subsequent trial, if one could call it that, was rather uninviting since there were certain... tenants... he’d overlooked in the rush, and those joined a certain furry creature’s mad pursuit through thick and thin.

Ultimately, Linlin survived by the skin of his teeth after many dangerous ups and downs. Still, his body had to choke on the mortifying bill...

Linlin, whose recollection time had been abruptly interrupted, opened wide his weary eyes. All of a sudden, he stopped thinking. After putting lots of unanswered questions on ice, he then closed the peepers and strained the nozzle.

Did the scent of... blood permeate the air? Linlin’s face contorted viciously as he spat out three words: “Fresh? Or aged?” As there was just a slight metallic whiff left behind, it should be quite recent.

Linlin heightened his senses to their utmost, crouched down, and slowly crept towards the source of the stench. Naturally, our protagonist harboured no ill-advised fantasies about what he was about to face.

He could be interrupting a terrible beast feasting on captured prey, it could be nothing at all, a strange surprise, or a killer lure, who knows. However, he was not deterred.

It was equally true that Linlin absolutely required some nourishment now, or otherwise, he would be unable to continue the silent torture nor keep looking for a safe shelter.

Due to the fact that once the suns set, the chances of him being preyed upon increased dramatically, he had to finish his business earlier.

This was doubly true since he was both hungrier and more tired than yesterday. And that was a close enough call already. It was as though his stomach had been eyeing this chance for a long time, and now it would make its desires painfully known to him, messing with his senses.

Grumbles, swallows, and–––for lack of an alternative term–––somersaults fought for supremacy. This proved especially challenging since Linlin was required to move as slowly as possible in order to keep watch for any danger hiding in the dense undergrowth that made this rather giant branch its home.

While moving slowly, he also had to remain fast enough not to impede his progress. Despite the painful experience, Linlin silently suffered through more sharp wooden splinters, needles, stones, hard plates, edges, sludge, excrement, and other horrendous things that were just waiting for him on the path.

The adamant will he displayed there was indeed impressive... Silent, scentless, and unnoticed was what he most desired to remain. This would, no doubt, save him at critical moments.

Finally, with a careful push here, a painful pull there, a lot of rustling of leaves, and a lot of ground covered, our ravenous protagonist stepped into an open area.

Moments passed. ‘…?’ Our protagonist stared forlornly ahead, his brain gripped by shock. “Aaah…” he sighed in defeat. Linlin had no doubt the so-called open area was beast-made.

A major force of nature seemed to have wedged three football fields’ worth of space into the trunk. There was greenish-red tree pitch dipping down at irregular intervals, splinters scattered everywhere, and... in the middle, the carcass of a huge, half-eaten, winged beast.

The glade screamed danger. Yet another hybrid. Some mad scientists’ magnum opus, perhaps? The combination of a rhinoceros, a crocodile, and some unknown creature or creatures that Linlin failed to recognise as it went beyond his expertise.

About a third–––in the form of a gigantic maw, no less–––was gone. The rest of the body was covered in a strangely sweet-smelling, toxic-looking mucus that took on the colour of the ominous orange blood staining the ground.

After closer inspection, the crushed hindleg was judged to be barely edible, fortunately. ‘Do other humans even exist in this cursed forest?’ Linlin thought all of a sudden.

‘No snowball chance in hell they survive where I almost fail!’ Forget about the embers of civilisation, he’d seen nothing resembling anything man-made!

Gruuuuuuuuu~.

In the end, Linlin’s fed-up stomach got the better of such untimely questions. His teeth dug in with gusto, tearing the hard, carapace-like skin open, gnawing and sucking at the flesh bulb lying beneath.

Linlin’s already suffering taste buds were not pleased with the stony meat’s rancidity and waxiness, but so be it. Whatever they had to say, he didn't care at all. There was either that or nothing.

Helper [AI(?)] decompressed, installed and enabled.

The uncalled-for addition of that jarring mechanical voice he certainly did not miss–––which spat many a word in vain again–––came with the subtlety and tenacity of a young woodcutter pursuing a burglar who got his hands on the fruits of years of bitter savings.

Maybe caused by the groggy sensation spreading like wildfire throughout his body, or maybe by the natural reaction to overfatigue coupled with a full stomach–––Linlin fell asleep in the midst of yet another hearty bite.

He had exceeded his limits long ago. It was time to move on. For a change, he needed to rest. Linlin deserved that much.

End of Part II