An ancient tree loomed indistinctly ahead. Mond noticed that something was blocking his view of its shape, leaving everything before his eyes hazy, as though he were looking through frosted glass.
An illusion?
Mond knew that what he saw wasn't real, yet he couldn't break free from the illusion. He sensed that something was about to take root and sprout inside his chest. His flesh would become nourishment, and his soul would serve as water for irrigation. Compared to that ancient tree, he was truly insignificant.
Smack!
A faint slapping sensation came from Mond's face. The scene before his eyes grew even blurrier, but his bodily senses became much clearer. The surroundings were no longer cold. Instead, they had become dry and warm, as though he were lying in his own bed.
"Iron Goof is sprouting—the plant-man, Iron Goof."
"Vital signs are stable. Prepare to cut."
Muffled voices reached Mond's ears. He desperately tried to open his eyes, but even with all his strength, he could only lift his eyelids a sliver.
A man wearing a black oxygen mask, with a fist-thick tube connected to it, entered Mond's field of vision. The man wore medical latex gloves and held something that looked like a high-tech chainsaw.
Seeing this, Mond's hazy consciousness concluded that he had probably been captured by some mad researcher. No matter how he looked at him, the man didn't resemble a doctor. If doctors dressed like that, Mond would stand upside down and spin while defecating.
"Increase the dosage. He'll wake up in three minutes and forty-five seconds."
"Understood. Sixteen milligrams of water-soluble anesthetic."
"At least six hundred and ninety milligrams."
"He'll die, won't he?"
"No."
Hearing the blurry conversation, Mond desperately wanted to sit up and run. He had never experienced anything like this in his