White Worm

Reality proved that even though Rowan was not afraid of the White Worm, his current weapons and equipment were no match for it.

The skin of the White Worm looked delicate and translucent, as if it would shatter at a single poke, but in reality, it was incredibly tough—at least to Rowan in his current state. His limbs, his small claws, and his sucking mouthparts were all completely useless against it.

At this moment, he felt a deep sense of envy for the White Worm's pair of large mandibles.

He watched the fat White Worm as it continued to roll around, seemingly mocking him with a silent, Come on, come on, let's see what you can do to me.

Rowan's mental state was on the verge of exploding. If he were still a human, he could have crushed the White Worm into a pulp with a gentle pinch of two fingers; he would never have to endure such indignity. However, thinking about how disgusting that would be, he quickly shook the thought from his mind.

Suddenly, a thought struck him: the presence of this White Worm meant there was food nearby, otherwise, it couldn't be so lively and energetic.

"Just wait until I eat all your food and starve you to death; let's see how arrogant you are then," Rowan glared viciously at the White Worm.

Afterward, he ignored the rolling White Worm and continued to dig.

In a short while, he unearthed several more of the White Worm's siblings. This made Rowan even more unhappy; why were other bugs social creatures, while he was a lone bug?

After shoving these detestable bugs aside, the soil and sand scattered, revealing the food they had been surrounding.

A section of a root from some unknown plant extended out of the soil. Its grayish-brown surface bore several fresh wounds, which Rowan guessed with his hind limbs were caused by the White Worm's biting.

He pressed his mouthparts against a wound on the root and began to lick. Thin trickles of liquid traveled along his tongue into his esophagus and then flowed into his belly.

After only a few licks, the wound stopped secreting fluid, so Rowan switched to another one. Yet, each wound was licked dry in just a few moments, and after a full circle, he was only about thirty percent full. He wanted to enlarge the wounds on the root, but he found his mouthparts were powerless to do so.

He thought for a moment and shoved one of the rolling White Worms over to the root. The White Worm, true to its lack of intelligence, suddenly found food right by its mouth and bit down without hesitation.

Watching from the side, Rowan saw the root quickly yield a fresh wound under the White Worm's large mandibles, with enticing plant sap flowing from within. He hurriedly kicked the White Worm away and moved in himself.

Just like that, with the help of his "tool bug," Rowan finally drank his fill.

Once he was full and satisfied, he shoved that tool bug aside and kicked the other White Worms even further away.

He returned to the gravel layer along the tunnel he had come from. The digging had consumed a fair amount of energy, and now that he had found food, the sense of urgency had faded significantly, so Rowan decided to rest for a while.

As for why he ran all the way back instead of resting near the root:

Rowan was worried that although the White Worm didn't look like a carnivore, he wasn't a professional entomologist after all. If the bug went crazy and took a bite out of him, his little arms and legs wouldn't be able to withstand those two large mandibles.

Even if they didn't bite him, waking up to find several sets of large mandibles waving in front of his face would be a nasty scare. So, after weighing the pros and cons, he decided to run further away to rest.

When Rowan woke up again, he didn't know how much time had passed, but his belly, which had been full, was hungry once more.

He tried to use his forelimbs to rub his stomach, but he suddenly discovered something unusual. A new pair of appendages had grown in front of his original forelimbs, and this pair looked incredibly powerful. The tips were not small, hook-like claws, but rather resembled rakes—a palm-like surface from which four short, thick, curved teeth protruded.

Efiash, the Infinite Evolution Bug!

Rowan inexplicably thought of this phrase and gained some understanding of its meaning. Before he went to sleep, he had just complained that his small hook-claws weren't effective at digging through soil, and upon waking, he had sprouted a pair of rakes that looked like experts at tilling the earth.

For a moment, his thoughts drifted, and he somehow recalled a game he had played in his past life that featured a type of suicide-bombing bug...

Rowan wanted to slap himself; why was he letting his imagination run wild? If he actually grew something bizarre while sleeping and ended up blowing himself up the moment he woke, who the hell could he complain to?

However, what were these things evolving based on? He would have to ponder that carefully before his next rest, but now was not the time for such thoughts—he needed to fill his belly first.

The newly appeared rake-appendages were extremely useful; the slightly curved teeth could easily pierce the soil and scoop out a large chunk.

It was strange to say, but in his past life, Rowan had no sense of direction—the kind of person who needed a GPS to leave the house or he'd get lost. Yet, after turning into a bug, his sense of direction was astonishingly good.

In this sunless underground, surrounded by identical sand and stone where a normal person couldn't tell up from down, he was able to find the tunnel he had dug last time very quickly, without taking a single wrong turn.

He couldn't explain the feeling; it was as if he just knew which direction to go.

The tunnel had collapsed in a few places, but he had been able to dig through it with his small hooks before, let alone now.

He now had eight appendages. He hadn't known much about insects before; he'd swatted plenty of flies and mosquitoes, but he had never bothered to count their legs. Besides, there seemed to be a huge variety of insects, so having a few extra legs was probably normal. For instance, centipedes—when he was in kindergarten, the teacher would tell the story of the centipede putting on shoes before nap time, but he had never managed to stay awake long enough to hear the centipede finish putting them all on.

But those were born that way, whereas his were grown on the fly based on actual need. He worried about what kind of monster he might become if this continued, but then he laughed at himself—he was already a bug, why worry about such things?

Would bugs even care about beauty when looking for a mate? Rowan thought about it; that was hard to say. He hadn't seen any of his own kind yet and didn't know what the aesthetic standards of bugs were. Then, he suddenly wondered if he was male or female. Did bugs have... parts? He felt around his body but didn't find anything; could he be a female bug?

If he were still human, Rowan's face would surely be deathly pale right now.

He arrived at the roots of the unknown plant in a daze, and seeing a line of White Worms gorging themselves there, his anger flared up.

He crawled over quickly and kicked them away one by one.

As he licked the delicious sap and watched the White Worms twisting and rolling nearby, Rowan's mood improved significantly.

Sure enough, happiness was built upon the suffering of other bugs.

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