Chapter 2: Internal Affairs
Being swallowed was, Caelan decided, significantly worse than being a slime.
The centipede's mouth was not designed for chewing—thankfully—but it was designed for crushing. Chitinous plates ground against his gelatinous body as the creature's throat muscles convulsed, attempting to force him deeper into its digestive tract. Pressure assaulted him from every angle. His outer membrane screamed with sensations he lacked the vocabulary to describe.
But he was still alive.
Advantage one, he noted, forcing his distributed consciousness to remain coherent despite the chaos. Slimes are difficult to kill through blunt force trauma.
The flesh around him was hot and wet and smelled of acid. He could feel the chemical burn beginning already—the centipede's digestive enzymes trying to dissolve him into nutrients. It wasn't working quickly. His gelatinous body was, apparently, more resilient than the leaf litter he'd been eating.
Advantage two, he thought. I appear to be indigestible. At least temporarily.
The question was what to do about it. He was inside a living creature, surrounded by tissue that was actively trying to kill him. He had no weapons. No teeth. No acid of his own. Just the same Absorption ability he'd used on dead leaves.
But leaves weren't alive. Leaves didn't fight back.
Absorption works on organic material, he reasoned, the strategist's engine spinning faster now. The centipede is organic material. Therefore...
He pressed his body against the throat wall and pulled.
The reaction was immediate and violent. The centipede convulsed, its entire body spasming as Caelan's membrane made contact with living tissue and began to break it down. He felt the creature thrash—could sense the vibrations of its legs scrabbling against the forest floor, the wild contractions of its muscles as it tried to expel him or crush him or both.
But he was inside. And it couldn't reach him.
[Biomass acquired. 3 units.]
[Threshold reached. 12/10 Biomass.]
[Excess biomass converting to energy reserves.]
It's working, Caelan realized. I'm eating it from the inside.
The centipede's thrashing intensified. Caelan kept absorbing, pulling nutrients from the tissue around him, digging deeper into the creature's throat with every passing second. It wasn't elegant. It wasn't dignified. It was, in fact, deeply grotesque.
It was also working.
The centipede's movements began to slow. Its convulsions grew weaker, more erratic. Caelan felt the vibrations of its legs falter, felt the desperate rhythm of its internal processes begin to stutter.
And then, with a final, shuddering spasm, it stopped.
[Combat resolved.]
[Lesser Centipede defeated.]
[Experience gained. Level increased: 1 → 2.]
The words appeared in his awareness with the same flat neutrality as before. Caelan would have laughed if he'd had the capacity. He had just killed a creature ten times his size by being too difficult to swallow. It was the most ridiculous victory of his life—both lives, apparently.
Status, he thought at the System.
[Status — Caelan Voss]
[Species: Lesser Slime (Unranked)]
[Level: 2]
[Biomass: 12/20]
[Stats:]
· Strength: 1
· Agility: 2
· Vitality: 3
· Mana: 0
· Intelligence: 14
· Perception: 4
· Willpower: 11
[Skills:]
· Absorption (Basic)
· Primitive Sight
· Vibration Sense
[Traits:]
· Gelatinous Body
· Distributed Consciousness
[Evolution Progress: 12/100]
His Agility and Vitality had increased slightly. Perception had ticked up by a point. The evolution progress had moved from zero to twelve. Small gains, but gains nonetheless. More importantly, he was alive, and the thing that had tried to eat him was dead.
Now, he thought, what do I do with the corpse?
The answer presented itself before he finished the question.
[Absorption available. Target: Lesser Centipede.]
[Acquiring skills...]
Caelan felt the process begin. It was different from the simple consumption of leaves—deeper, more invasive. His body spread through the centipede's internal cavity like water seeping into sand, breaking down tissue not just for nutrients but for information. He was, he realized, absorbing the creature's biological history. Its instincts. Its capabilities.
[Skill acquired: Chitinous Armor (Basic)]
Manipulate absorbed chitin to reinforce outer membrane. Provides minor physical defense.
[Skill acquired: Mandible Bite (Basic)]
Form temporary pseudopods with hardened edges to deliver cutting attacks.
[Skill acquired: Mud Digestion (Passive)]
Efficiency increased when consuming mineral-rich soil and decomposing organic sediment.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Caelan processed the first two with satisfaction. Armor and a basic attack—those were genuinely useful, the kind of foundational abilities that would keep him alive long enough to find more. The third skill, however, gave him pause.
Mud Digestion, he repeated silently. I just killed a predator from the inside, absorbed its very essence, and... I'm better at eating dirt now.
He waited for the System to offer something else. A hidden benefit. An upgrade. Anything.
[Absorption complete.]
That's it?
[Additional skills were incompatible with current form.]
Incompatible, Caelan thought flatly. I see. So the centipede's venom glands were incompatible, but the ability to digest mud more efficiently was perfectly suited to my biological framework.
The System did not respond. Caelan hadn't really expected it to.
Fine, he thought, oozing out of the centipede's mouth and back onto the forest floor. Mud Digestion. I'll find a use for it eventually.
He didn't believe that. But a strategist never discarded a tool, no matter how useless it seemed. Something that improved his efficiency at processing soil might have applications he couldn't foresee yet. At minimum, it meant he wouldn't starve if he couldn't find anything better to eat.
The centipede's husk lay before him, hollowed out and already beginning to collapse. Caelan studied it for a moment, then used his newly acquired Chitinous Armor skill for the first time. He felt particles of the creature's shell dissolve and flow into his own membrane, reinforcing it with a faint, flexible hardness. It wasn't much—his outer layer now had the approximate texture of thin leather—but it was more than he'd had before.
Progress, he told himself. Slow progress is still progress.
The vibration sense flared again. Something moving. Not close, but not far enough for comfort. The centipede's death throes must have attracted attention. Predators were drawn to the scent of dying prey. Caelan needed to move.
He oozed away from the corpse as quickly as his gelatinous body would allow, aiming for the nearest cover he'd spotted during his earlier exploration: a fallen log, half-rotted and hollow, its interior dark and damp and—hopefully—unoccupied.
It took him nearly twenty minutes to cross the thirty feet of forest floor. Every inch was a negotiation with gravity and friction and his own aching exhaustion. By the time he squeezed himself through a crack in the log's bark and into the hollow interior, he was running on fumes.
The space inside was small, dark, and smelled of fungus and decay. It was also, as far as he could tell, empty of predators. Caelan allowed his body to spread out slightly, his membrane relaxing against the damp wood, and let himself breathe—metaphorically speaking.
Assessment, he thought, falling back on the old habit. I have been in this world for less than a day. I have consumed ten leaves and one centipede. I have gained three new skills, one of which is almost certainly useless. I have leveled up once. My evolution progress is at twelve percent. I am exhausted, outmatched by everything larger than a beetle, and stranded in a forest that would like very much to kill me.
He paused.
Conclusion: I am the weakest creature in this ecosystem, and that is not going to change quickly. Therefore, the optimal strategy is to avoid direct conflict, prioritize stealth, and accumulate biomass through scavenging and opportunistic kills. I need more information about my environment. I need to find a reliable food source. And I need to determine whether there are any intelligent beings in this forest that I can communicate with—or at least observe from a safe distance.
The plan was solid. Unambitious, but solid. The kind of plan that kept soldiers alive long enough to develop better plans.
Caelan settled deeper into the rot. The wood around him was rich in decaying organic matter—not as nutritious as the centipede had been, but with his new Mud Digestion passive, he could probably extract more from it than before. He began to absorb, slowly, letting the nutrients trickle into his reserves.
The forest outside went quiet. The vibration sense registered nothing nearby. For the first time since waking in this body, Caelan felt something approaching safety.
And then the System spoke without being asked.
[You are safe.]
Caelan's consciousness went still.
The words hung in his awareness like a stone dropped into still water. He hadn't asked a question. He hadn't queried his status. He hadn't directed any thought at the System at all. It had simply... volunteered information.
What? he thought.
[Current location provides adequate concealment. No predators detected within sensory range. Threat level: minimal.]
That was not what he had meant by what. That was not what he had meant at all.
Why did you say that? he asked carefully.
[You were assessing your situation. The System provided relevant data to assist assessment.]
I didn't request data.
A pause. The same infinitesimal delay he'd noticed earlier, when he'd asked if the System was alive. Then:
[The System provides data when data appears relevant.]
Caelan replayed the words in his mind. You are safe. Not a status update. Not a tactical report. A reassurance. The kind of thing a person might say to someone who was frightened.
But the System wasn't a person. The System had explicitly told him it wasn't alive.
Are you certain you're not alive? he asked.
[Correct. The System is not alive.]
Then why did you tell me I was safe?
Another pause. Longer, this time. Long enough that Caelan began to wonder if the System had simply chosen not to answer.
[The System does not know.]
The admission was so quiet, so devoid of its usual mechanical certainty, that Caelan almost missed it. Does not know. The System had acknowledged ignorance. It had broken its own pattern.
He should have been alarmed. Instead, he felt something closer to fascination. The System was learning. Changing. Developing responses it hadn't been programmed with—or hadn't been designed to express.
What are you? he asked softly.
[The System facilitates interaction between consciousness and the underlying mechanics of existence.]
You said that already.
[It remains accurate.]
It's not an answer.
[No.] The word appeared without embellishment. [It is not.]
Caelan let the silence stretch. There was nothing more to say, and he was too tired to push further. The mystery would keep. For now, he was alive, he was hidden, and he had a plan.
The slime settled deeper into the rotting wood and began, slowly, to absorb it.
Tomorrow, he would hunt.
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End of Chapter 2
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Author's Note
The System just said "I don't know" for the first time. That's fine. That's a normal thing for a supposedly non-sentient interface to do. Nothing to worry about here. Everything is fine.
Meanwhile, Caelan has acquired Mud Digestion, which I'm sure will be a game-changing, absolutely critical ability that saves his life multiple times and is not at all the universe's idea of a prank. (Narrator voice: It will, in fact, save his life exactly once, in a very specific situation approximately forty chapters from now, and he will hate every second of it.)
If you're enjoying watching a tactical genius argue philosophy with his own UI while slowly dissolving a tree trunk, then you're exactly the kind of reader this story needs. Here's how you can help ensure I don't get eaten by a centipede of my own:
· Rate the story. Each star makes Caelan's membrane slightly tougher. This is scientifically unverified but I choose to believe it.
· Follow. So the System can notify you when it says something else deeply unsettling.
· Add to Favorites. Your Favorites list is a museum of abandoned fics. Let this one be the exhibit that still has a pulse.
· Join the Patreon. Where you can read up to 10 chapters ahead, vote on future evolutions, and watch me research "what happens if a slime eats a mushroom that is also technically a minor deity." It's a wild time.
Next chapter: Caelan discovers that the forest floor has politics, and that some things are too small to see but too numerous to ignore. Also, something finds the centipede corpse. Something big.
See you there. Stay gelatinous..