First Birth

Rowan curled his body up, unsure how much time had passed, when he suddenly felt something on his head move instinctively. A fragrant, sweet scent wafted over, and his stomach began to rumble with an uncontrollable, intense hunger.

I'm already in this state; might as well just let me starve to death. Resisting the temptation wafting from beside him with all his might, Rowan calmed his heart and settled his breath, determined to starve himself to death.

The object on his head moved more and more frequently, with increasing force, making his already irritable mood even worse. Shifting his gaze upward, he discovered two stick-like appendages flailing about in front of his eyes.

Rowan was horrified: "I, the hell, actually grew a pair of antennae?"

Life is meaningless...

Ten minutes later, a small black bug could be seen feasting beside a giant white egg. The bug was less than half the size of the egg; its tiny mouthparts were frantically licking the shell. Under the secretions from its mouth, the hard shell softened rapidly, and every so often, it would suck up some of the mucus from inside the egg—truly a meal with both solid food and soup.

"Damn, that's delicious!" Rowan exclaimed.

Rowan wasn't surrendering to hunger; he just didn't want that thing to distract him. In this pitch-black place, having such a glaring white giant egg sitting here, combined with the fact that his eye structure seemed different now, was making him dizzy.

Now that he had eaten the culprit, not only could he focus better, but after filling his stomach, he would have more energy to starve himself.

By now, he had gained some understanding of his current situation. In his past life, he was a promising young man who had experienced the information age, having read plenty of transmigration dramas and extracurricular books.

He just hadn't expected his past life to end so sloppily, only for this life to begin just as sloppily—and for him to have transmigrated into a bug, of all things.

Yes, he already understood what kind of creature he was now.

But didn't bugs usually lay eggs in batches? How did he end up as a lonely little one, with not a single member of his own kind around? This left him without a reference point to see what he actually looked like, or whether he was imposing and majestic.

Whether it was something Dole had done earlier or the instinct of the insect body, in the time it took to eat this one meal, Rowan seemed to have accepted the fact that he had been reincarnated as a bug, and had even started worrying about his image.

After the eggshell had mostly disappeared, Rowan was full and satisfied. Feeling a sense of contentment, he temporarily abandoned the idea of suicide. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Since there was a second life, perhaps there would be a third; he might as well treat it as a novel experience.

Just as he finished comforting himself, his mindset gradually turning optimistic as he clung to the thought of a next life, he prepared to go out and court death—only for reality to deal him a heavy blow.

Perhaps due to the shift in his mindset, as he accepted that he was a bug, the final trace of disharmony between his soul and the insect body was mended. At the same time, some information stored within the insect body flooded into Rowan's mind.

"Infinite Evolution Bug? Efiash? Is this my origin in this life? Sounds pretty badass, actually."

"Damn it, it was that old green-haired geezer who turned me into this. It's over, it's over. This wasn't an accident; this was a premeditated attack."

"If that's the case, doesn't that mean my plan to court death and start the next life is ruined?"

The insect body only retained a small amount of recent information; there was none of that "bloodline inheritance" stuff from novels. Rowan received it all quickly, his emotions swinging wildly. Although the language the green-haired old man spoke wasn't any he knew, he miraculously understood the meaning behind it.

"Just let me die!" His recently positive mindset plummeted again, and the little black bug curled back up.

Half an hour later, Rowan began to contemplate his insect life while munching on the eggshell.

According to the final scene, he had been teleported away by that "formation" or whatever it was. This left three possibilities for his current location: one, he had been teleported back to the planet of his past life; two, he was on that continent with the wizards; or three, he was in an unknown place beyond the first two.

Which one it was remained to be seen, but that wasn't the most important thing right now. If his guess about the large rocks surrounding him was correct, then his situation was extremely dangerous.

Although the environment was pitch black, Rowan guessed he was underground, though he didn't know how deep. After the giant white egg was finished, the light here became even dimmer, yet his eyes could still perceive some special rays of light.

These rays didn't help him distinguish up from down, but miraculously, his antennae and the hairs on his legs were all telling him which direction the surface was in.

This sensation was magical; if one hadn't experienced it personally, it would be impossible to describe.

Heading toward the surface, his two front legs kept raking the large rocks in front of him toward his abdomen, and then, with the coordination of his middle and hind legs, he pushed the rocks behind him.

Yes, he had six legs now. As a bug, that was normal, wasn't it?

At first, his movements were a bit clumsy, but he soon became proficient. He wasn't sure if he should praise himself for having a talent for being a bug.

As he continued upward, the temperature of the surrounding rocks gradually rose, slowly becoming uncomfortably hot.

The light ahead grew brighter, and finally, Rowan broke through the obstruction and reached the surface. The situation he least wanted to see appeared before his eyes.

A vast expanse of yellow rocks reflected a blinding light, and the scorching ground irritated his abdomen and his soft tail, making him feel as if he were about to be roasted.

As he had expected, this was a desert. Those "large rocks" were actually just gravel. If he hadn't arrived in a land of giants, it meant his own size was incredibly minuscule.

While this was normal for a bug, for a human with no experience in being one, the current situation was a hellish start.

Enduring the scorching heat, Rowan looked around; there wasn't a single sign of vegetation in sight.

Furthermore, his current vision was very strange. It reminded him of when he was human, seeing those giant advertising screens in shopping malls that were composed of dozens of small monitors synchronized by a program. Although each monitor played something different, together they formed a perfect, magnified image.

But the scene before him wasn't just composed of dozens of screens, but thousands upon thousands of tiny screens. Using his limited knowledge of entomology, he guessed he must possess a pair of compound eyes.

For a bug, this was also normal, wasn't it?

However, no one told him that these eyes were super nearsighted. The scene nearby was quite clear, but anything slightly further away was blurry. Not to mention, Rowan wanted to look at the sun in the sky to see if it was the one he was familiar with, so he could judge whether he had returned home.

Now, the sun was invisible, but through a method he wasn't familiar with—one that definitely didn't exist when he was human—he could determine that there was only one light source in the sky.

The magic of this method was something a person who had never been a bug could never fully comprehend.

Of course, Rowan would rather not have had this experience.

The information he had gathered was limited, the surface temperature was too high, and he didn't know if there were other dangers, which made Rowan, with his three-to-four-meter field of vision, feel very uneasy.

Since there was no next life, he might as well experience this one as much as he could. The plan to court death was temporarily shelved; he would focus on keeping his little life for now.

Sticking his butt up, Rowan began raking the sand and rocks to head back underground.

Digging holes seemed to be his instinct; in just a short while, he had mastered various excavation techniques. Digging up, digging down, digging left, digging right—it was all a breeze.

Reaching a sufficient depth, the surroundings became cool again. Rowan, who had only just "been born," felt physically and mentally exhausted after such high-intensity digging and various mental blows.

Curling his body up, his consciousness slowly drifted into sleep. At this moment, his mind was filled with only one thought.

"I don't want nearsighted eyes!"