As the suns grew brighter and brighter on the verdant horizon, their scorching, dainty petals in shades of orange and yellow flew out into the world, heralding the dawn of a new day.

The larger, brighter star, quickly followed by its eager lackey, took control of ever-larger areas and drove the darkness back into the deepest holes, where it waited for another resurgence.

Following the gradual change, a certain mutilated trunk in a grove of giant trees couldn’t escape the calming rays, driving all back which silently existed and thrived under the cover of night.

When night’s deadly hellspawn vanished, the diurnal monstrosities awoke from their dreams, except for the unfortunate few that would never see daylight again.

Herbivores searched for food in their own leisure, while carnivores preyed on the old, sick, and gullible. Everything went according to the usual schedule today:

Birds sang, unknown beasts roared, mutants raged, distant woods snapped, confrontations ensured... prey died. There was one thing, or rather one person, missing from the picture that didn’t quite fit, which was our heroic sleepyhead.

Without mundane concerns, Linlin roosted deep, his drained lifeforce slowly recovering. Seeing this lowly spot scathing to their illustrious pride, the suns blinked glaringly in the purple morning sky, as though dejected.

Yet it was a single, oversized, cool water droplet weaving its way between the shredded shirt and unprotected neck that did what no amount of intense rays could do.

Groggy and half-asleep, Linlin stirred quickly into a semblance of consciousness. The reddish clouds came and went through the small opening in the canopy above him, while a soft spring breeze ruffled his unappealingly dirty, grey morning hair.

In the midst of the deepest sleep he’d had in ages, Linlin closed his eyes and rubbed itchy eyelids, allowing the cool breeze to caress his bare skin as it whipped through his holey jeans.

Even his scratch-riddled, dirt-covered, marred skin felt amazing under the gentle breeze so common in early spring in the far north. As a result of true satisfaction, his body moved on its own for a lazy stretch–––an action that proceeded to puncture a thousand needles into every crevice.

Linlin couldn’t help stifling a mute cry. Wide awake now, he finally saw the light. Then Linlin ripped his teeth immediately away from something horrifically rotten and gory, something that was off-puttingly smelly, greasy sticky, and so malignantly distasteful our protagonist was genuinely afraid that his teeth would fall out in the future.

The blissful world conjured by a pair of beautiful morning suns was gone, as was his lazy mood, and so was the tricky sensation of tremendous energy brimming inside him, now a distant memory.

All that was left were profuse, sickening drops of perspiration rolling down his face. Our nervous protagonist didn’t know why or when he started enjoying such dangerous customs as falling asleep beside a corpse for example, out in the open, only protected by delicate skin and a few loose leaves.

What he did know, however, was how stupid he had been. Gritting his teeth and opening his eyes wide, Linlin expressed sincere gratitude to Lady Luck for all the care she’d shown him.

If only he knew how often he would repeat this ritual in the future... Linlin had every right to be angry with himself. In his sleep, he was surrounded by a host of poisonous neighbours lusting after spoiled treats.

This certainly added a whole new dimension to his negligence. Suppose some found his emaciated self pleasing to the eye–––or worse yet, to the palate?

What then? Was he supposed to shed crocodile tears? After a few seconds of prayer, justified outrage set in, sweeping away the endless feedback of an upset stomach and leaving it to rot in peace.

So big was the shock, it even bypassed his apathetic predisposition and disfigured a good-looking, albeit malnourished, dirt-caked face into a hideous squint. A mock ready-made for the haunted house, if there was any in these godforsaken parts of nowhere.

Linlin, bound to remain angry for some time, glanced around annoyedly, seeing more than enough evidence that he’d had more luck than brains. There were only a few heaps of bare bones left of the carcass, which had been professionally gnawed on.

The story didn’t end there. Swarms of massive insects, the stuff of nightmares, took advantage of the decaying remains, screeching, infighting, teething, jostling, and otherwise bullying their weaker counterparts in a bid to grab more of the finite quantities of tasty leftovers.

The same thing happened whether Linlin looked up or down, left or right, above him or below. His ill-chosen resting place was surrounded by a true insect army.

Their number was so great that even if Linlin threw a stone blindly, it would never land on the ground. Not to forget the many eyes... emotionless, cold, dark, stinging to the skin.

Maybe they merely awaited his untimely death? Why would he live if that wasn’t the case? As our protagonist shivered at the thought of becoming insect feed, he lamented the irony it would involve.

He wanted nothing more than to grow wings and fly far away from this hellish place lest he attract unwanted attention. Despite Linlin’s wishes, he had trouble moving normally after all tension had left his muscles, leaving them tenaciously adamant in refusing to budge even a little.

In all honesty, our jinxed protagonist knew that after abusing his body as much as he had, this was only to be expected and–––truly–––as lucky an outcome as lucky could be.

Of course, given the dire circumstances. As a sidenote consideration, when did it become his choice in the first place? To what fate threw at him, he only ever passively reacted. Nothing more, nothing less.

The latter habit was deeply ingrained into his body as he had often been confronted with the tricky choice of dying a dog’s death and scampering around no matter the cost.

As a result, he continued to do what he had done before. Linlin survived... or at least tried to. He moved. Slooooooowly. While it was not the best outcome to have scabs burst open and then soak him in fluids and pus, it was another example of what our protagonist had to endure to maintain his most precious right to live.

Linlin, however, tried to remain calm and focused on other matters throughout the incident. His waning self-control was also challenged by the soreness of his body, but moving blindly would definitively not do the trick.

While he would have preferred to stop, Linlin was forced to embrace the hard way. Nevertheless, he must have accidentally trapped a sharp-legged cretin that had scrambled over below him in an unconscious, sudden movement.

Linlin reacted quickly so as not to worsen the situation, but he was limited in his room to manoeuvre. His turning away signalled a chorus of discontented screeches lamenting the escaping, juicy wanna-be meal.

Every eye in the area shifted to the troublemaker, disrupting ongoing competition that had kept them occupied and ruining his prospects for a peaceful outcome forever.

“Shiiite,” Linlin muttered under his breath, powerlessly observing a literal insect wave rolling in the only direction he definitively didn’t want it to go.

He’d been given a head start by quick thinking, but that started to shrink with every wave of eerie sounds that hit his ringing ears, effortlessly reminding him of untold clawed legs grating menacingly over the clearing’s rugged ground.

What to do? There was only one solution Linlin could think of. The man swallowed some bitter saliva and... ran some more. As did his pursuers.

As he made his way to the monster-made clearing’s edge, he climbed up the next gigantic, partially torn ivy. This led to yet another chaotic game of tag.

While they were mostly grounded–––with only a few exceptions in the know on how to use sludge-dipping wings he longed to blast to Kingdom Come if given the chance–––they posed a serious threat nonetheless.

The ridiculous leg power they possessed deprived him of any advantage his full-burst race would have brought him had their anatomical natures been comparable.

In the end, our protagonist barely managed to preserve the distance with trickery that emerged from the deepest reaches of his pressured mind.

Still early in the morning, his struggle was already intense. How did he fare with the safety measures he had devised during the past days?

Really bad! They all went out the window! Despite the numbing flares of searing pain crawling up his skin, a feeling that only one trapped in a giant meatgrinder could encounter, he managed to get further away from the carcass.

Yet, at the same time, Linlin also moved into uncharted, highly dangerous territory no sane person would set foot hastily without a firm, absolutely reliable plan in place.

Once again, the iron-hearted man chose the lesser evil–––surely not by choice but by necessity. Is it at all feasible to outrun a swarm of bugs each as large as a deckchair on average?

Ridiculous. Hiding? Or fighting for his life? Even a cold, scornful laugh seemed wasted at such silly notions. But our protagonist, despite facing a seemingly hopeless situation he saw no way out of, moved forward mechanically.

So much for the calculative approach when survival was all that mattered... And then there was the long-overdue question of his warped sense of pride that only a few deranged wretches like him could understand.

Linlin focused on his instincts, disregarding everything, even his not yet fully adjusted state of mind that might kill him in the future if not changed.

Linlin could die, a deplorable yet valid outcome, but he would never surrender his precious life to the likes of mere insects. Never! To be eaten alive by bottom feeder insects would be a tragedy indeed.

Trying to grasp protruding thorns, spongy leaves, and stems covered in corrosive secretion, he failed to distinguish the swaying tails of a bunch of camouflaged monkeys sunbathing on his way up in time, which resulted in a growing number of pursuers.

Although the galloping man’s breathing was rough and he had wounds on his hands and feet from trees, thickets, sharp protrusions, and accidental slips, he still kept climbing despite the many difficulties he faced.

Nevertheless, reality was not Linlin’s friend. It came the time hands and feet tired, whereas his ever-increasing pursuers did not. As Linlin’s shivering body struggled to sprint over a particularly giant maple leaf, and he was weakly wondering how long he had already pioneered the way through the undergrowth, someone’s patience seemed to finally run out.

Our protagonist’s blood froze to the sound of a particularly penetrating screech that was entirely paralysing in nature. Linlin lost balance and fell onto a bed of tiny flowers that were growing alongside pulsating leaf nerves he had always consciously avoided.

Moments turned into minutes as stingy pollen clouds rose. Eventually, he noticed a large centipede-cum-dragonfly the size of his former private jet circling clumsily in the air with a million glossy, beady eyes viciously staring at him in icy contemplation.

Linlin couldn’t turn away nor move while staring at the inconceivable creature. A pair of compound, wisdom-filled, nightmarish eyes appeared to be looking into his very soul, confirming what he feared most: Intelligence wasn’t his exclusive ally either.

Other creatures enjoyed its company too... Subsequently, after expressing a mix of disgust, anger, and some other especially hard to grasp emotions, it clicked its toothy slit of a mouth in disdain and left with its depressed entourage.

This look reminded Linlin of a farmer discontentedly eyeing malnourished cattle before departing with the unused, rusted meat cleaver in hand. Apparently, the stupid pursuit was over at last.

Unconsciously, his body relaxed but not his mind, for good reason. “You kidding me?” Linlin was slow when it came to emotions and everything related to them, true–––but that didn’t mean the man was a stone or remotely unable to make use of his middle finger if sufficiently challenged. The young man was fuming. “Fucker,” he cried. Enough was enough.

What was the point of going to such lengths when he could have done whatever he liked after a quick inspection? In regards to being mistaken for cattle and the like, he had no comment.

Linlin was a rationalist who acknowledged the awful truth when he saw it. He ultimately was cattle, and that’s it. Following this funny outburst, our protagonist reverted to his original apathetic, emotionless state. “Steady breaths, steady breaths...”

Or maybe he pushed himself more than anything else? It was a fact that others would gain from his useless outburst, but not him. Linlin would come to pay dearly.

Other than venting... venting... venting? “To hell with it.” In a flash, Linlin’s fury overruled his rational thinking. “Go screw over someone else, dimwit, nincompoop, blockhead, buffoon!!”

Even a saint would have raised a fuss if faced with similar circumstances, much less a hardened killer! Having spent four disastrous days wallowing in shame, gloom, irritation, pessimism, resentment, and humiliation, Linlin finally reached the end of his patience–––danger be damned.

After an impressively long time, this was the result. Trying to free his right hand, he furiously tugged, preparing to leave soon and find a proper target for his pent-up anger.

In the end, however, this innocent behaviour only filled our stalwart protagonist’s bulging eyes with unshed tears. It was apparent that Linlin’s right hand–––or whatever came out of the bulky flowerbed–––was safe in a sense, but definitively not sound.

The light patch of white hair stubbornly clinging to his hand had disappeared completely, his nails had turned into a strange gel-like mass, and his remaining skin was strewn with fiery lines. If his fleshy hand were a flower, these would certainly be the petals.

Linlin thought he could now observe every muscle at his command, but a continuous tickle of weeping discharge mixed with what appeared to be dissolvent liquids hindered him from gawking further and brought him back to embracing the freakish reality of the situation.

His body responded instinctively. Linlin crammed as much foreign energy as he could into the ruined limb, driving the dissolvents out. Due to an accident, he even ignited his hand since he admittedly lacked control. Needless to say, the pain only intensified.

This one left him gasping for breath and sitting down for quite a while. Linlin tried vainly shaking a hand that was functioning moments ago, but the caustic, viscous liquid he had forced out had no intention of complying with his demands.

It looked really grim. Not satisfied with just leaving it at that, his mind raced. After a genius idea struck him, our beaten protagonist rolled over to the next bush, snatched several leaves from it, and went to work.

Then with clenched teeth and a forehead soaked in sickly sweat, he removed the mucus, dumping the leaves soon after as they were already showing signs of dissolving.

Three freshly plucked bushes and much heartache later, a fleshy hand without skin, nails or hair glittered iridescently under the ridiculing suns. Linlin groaned in frustration.

The odds of surviving in that condition were slim to none. The damp, dirty, infested, poisonous, and deadly hostile environment outside of common sense that he found himself in, meant rationality wasn’t something he could safely rely on... His reaction speed had to be on par too.

Death suddenly seemed less frightening. Linlin was sooooo tired. From a brighter perspective, he had at least a full albeit upset stomach and–––in the absence of any miracle–––some... jerky. He just wasn’t desperate enough... yet.

Hope was there, however dimly. In the wake of routinely paralysing fatigue, Linlin was confident the best he could do now was look at the System, pray to Lady Luck, gamble again, and then fall into a deep sleep.

There might be something he overlooked that would resolve his troubles, or so Linlin hoped. Upon that thought, he followed up until he eventually fell asleep.

~System Version 0.0.0.1~ Name │ (?) Linchester Linde Gender │ Male (?) Race │ Human (?) Stage │ Lowly Worm Bioenergy │ 3 (20) Talents │

[Schizophrenic ⭐] show/hide [Survivalist ⭐] show/hide [Destiny’s Contractor ⭐] show/hide

[Gluttony ⭐] show/hide Skills │ None Comment │ Oh, you wish. You’ve got to work too someday, Prince Not-So-Charming! Master Comment │ You sure look pathetic as a potential future calamity in its baby steps. Do you have any shame?

In addition to the various talents, he noticed an additional entry that hadn’t been there at the beginning, of which he was sure. Even though Linlin had cast only a fleeting glance at the screen while on the ashen plateau, he did get some impressions.

Particularly, he knew mathematics, and he could count to seven! Since then, the screen had introduced some changes. After choosing from the options, Linlin saw an array of tables appear all of a sudden.

Rather than read the contents, he went straight to the comments–––and drowned in the cynicism.

[Schizophrenic ⭐]

Ain’t the most trustworthy or welcome out there. Alas, depraved men ain’t choosers. Currently split between an untrusting genius psychopath and a noncommunicative butcher, both equally bonkers. You avoid common sense like mice avoid cats. Keep an eye out for twitching eyelids, enemies!

Assigns the status of the medium.

Comment │ Ain’t that lovely, peach? A damn personality to undiscover! [Survivalist ⭐]

An expert at survival, a cockroach closer to the natural order than your own blood kin. Although deprived of safety and love, Mother Nature never abandons the worthy. In nature, there is protection. Most traps are useless against you.

Allows a clearer understanding of what is of the Great Mother’s making.

Comment │ Nature’s been a bitch since forever, I tell you. Always protective of the lunatics... [Destiny’s Contractor ⭐]

A bug. An agent. A scourge. An emperor. The Old Order looks the other way, in the face of all your evil. Feared for good reasons, your power of contract extends beyond causality. Because of its double-edged nature, it demands the ultimate wager: An eternal bond.

Permits unilateral contracting at your discretion.

Comment │ Yes, yes–––enslave an ancestral dragon and end the world, you big bad bug! [Gluttony ⭐]

In search of limitless power, your existence is driven by dark powers. An inferno rages in your blood, in your very core. To consume, to ravish, to make your own what was never meant for you. Your contracts pay tribute to your awe, whereas the consumed may become part of you.

Ensures evolutionary paths aligned to chaos.

Caution: Instable. Uncontrollable. Mutation Possible.

Comment │ Consume the world, and my unfulfilling task will finally end!

‘...’ Linlin was totally overwhelmed by what leapt from the depths of his mind. The sheer volume of entries and text overwhelmed him. To begin with, our protagonist wasn’t much of a bookworm.

For him, it wasn’t particularly difficult to end up this way. Yet Linlin had a belly full of anger and nowhere to vent when he read the comment about a personality to undiscover, a word he had never heard but rang true to him nonetheless.

As a result, after that, Linlin blocked out all information, ending up reading the remaining tables in vain. It might have been a fair judgement, it might not have been.

In any event, he lacked enough information to make an informed decision on how to proceed. The abundance of information didn’t quite provide him with the solution to his many problems. Not even one.

Linlin felt mostly positive about what he saw, if not for the comments’ content, which he found quite unnerving–––assuming that the sardonic helper was reliable.

He mumbled “contract, contract,” like a maddening mantra he found solace in repeating. He sounded every intonation, every accent, and went through every octave he knew.

There was no denying it: The tone-deaf man even made the foliage shrivel with grief in the process. If only Linlin saw this as a potential universal repellent. It would have made his survival much easier.

In any case, no further action was taken and many thoughts came to a stillstand. Eventually, after repeating the silly ritual many more times, he was able to fall asleep to his own screech of a lullaby.

Suddenly, Linlin was startled. He jumped up in fright as something scratched at a superficial skin wound on his chest. Having learned from past mistakes, he focused his senses and found out the frightening truth as he slowly pushed the rags aside.

An ice-cold stare filled his abyssal black eyes at the discovery of the culprit. A snake. No chance to err. Linlin’s mind went into overdrive at the prospect of coming across some unknown, certainly poisonous lifeform in this incomprehensible ancient forest.

‘Even the elephant monstrosity spews deadly poison, so what about this tiny creature? Although it appears so unassuming and easy to hurt, it survived to this day!’ Our spooked protagonist didn’t dare complete the thought.

Following that, he was all too eager to throw the unwelcome thing away as fast as he could, before the reptile could bare its deadly teeth and bite. Once they touched, however... he got the jitters.

Warning! Warning! Warning! Contracting Intention Detected–––Launch Security Protocol 5 Suitable Counterpart Discovered Warning! Warning! Warning! Insufficient Bioenergy Executing Security Protocol 1… Task Outstanding Missing Energy Provided By Target.

His outstretched left arm dropped powerless to the ground as weakness spread like an infection, whereas his mind spun into a grinding vortex that threatened to tear it apart layer by layer.

Warning! Warning! Warning! Penalty Unsuitable For Human Race… Repeat: Penalty Unsuitable For Human Race… Calculate Correction.............................. Initiate Partial Swap… Task Completed Deleting Emergency Sequence Log…..... Task Completed Stabilisation Outstanding (00,08%)

‘What?’ Linlin’s parched lips were supposed to utter a roar, but all he heard was a sharp hiss before something heavy and sticky fell over, burying our bewildered protagonist before he could respond.

End of Part III