If I had to describe my surrounding it would be a semi-circle platform of around 100 meters radius with a very moist floor.

There are no trees here, at least not on this platform, but those vines or tendrils things are almost everywhere, they seem to proliferate beneath the giant mushrooms which serve a platform here in the middle layer.

From not so far away from my platform, I could hear the tumultuous sound of a waterfall.

“Breath!”

“… “

“I said breath!” I said while kicking in frustration into something.

No response. I guess it’s dead then.

The Drake, whom I had spared from the group that had attacked and which I used to light fires whenever needed in this chilly place, appeared to have died.

The monsters that attacked me were Drakes, a high beast subspecies of dragons, just like those wyverns that attacked me.

The only distinction between the two is that, in contrast to wyverns, which have one leg and two front limbs that have evolved into pairs of wings, Drake are quadripedal giant lizards.

Both Drake and Wyvern have magical beast counterparts; thus far, I've only been attacked by their high beast equivalents; I should consider myself extremely fortunate.

According to what I know, Wyvern's magical beast in the higher stratum should be proficient in wind magic, whereas Drake's magical beast counterpart in the middle sanctum should be proficient in earth magic.

To get back to the Drake which died, I tried my utmost to keep it alive but to no avail.

Of course, its death was very heartbreaking news, after all, it was a true challenge to produce fire in this moist environment.

I even attempted to feed it some of my food, but it didn't seem to like it.

I'm not sure if it was because I fed him his own brethren flesh or because "I" was the one feeding him, but he categorically refused to eat.

“I guess I'll have to find another one.”

It’s been a while since I’ve been attacked by that Drake and its brethren, one week, two weeks, … who knows?

But it was enough time for me to halfway heal the injuries on my arm. It doesn’t hurt as it formerly did anymore.

I can even it move more or less freely now.

Speaking of mobility...

It took a lot of time and dedication for me to become fully accustomed to my new eyes and limbs; it felt like using a part of your body for something it wasn't designed for, like determining the relief of your surroundings.

But the results were well worth the effort.

It may not be as precise as eyes, but it provided me a decent three-dimensional representation of the environment through which those wandering and meandering limbs pass.

I don't know how I didn't think of this sooner; it would have saved me a lot of time.

I can protect myself and move without using my own feet by using the tendrils to form an intertwining and net-like barrier around me, and as I mentioned earlier, by using those tendrils as explorative limbs, I can figure out what the area around me is like without too much difficulty.

If I had to describe how it felt to use those tentacles for sighting, I'd say it's similar to using your back to determine the shape of something you're rubbing it against, but instead of a straight vertical one, you have a longer and more malleable back that can adjust to the surface you're attempting to sense.

Just like a snake.

For the time being, I'm exploring my surroundings with three fifteen-meter-long vines, surveying the four cardinal points around me with the four extremities, and using the two other extremities to replace my hand.

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It was difficult at first to keep track of all of these vines because they easily entangled with one another, but once you get the hang of it, it's as if you're using your own limbs.

Moving those vines was one of the two most inconvenient aspects of using them; aina or no aina, I'm still carting around 45 meters of vines. But it got a lot easier once I realized I didn't even have to use my feet with those vines.

Yes, instead of vines being carried around by me, it is carrying me around. By using it as a launch pad, I was able to bounce, propel myself, move around, and even grapple onto something.

All I had to do was stand or sit in the center of the small barrier I'd erected and let it do all the footwork and handwork, or limbwork as I like to call it.

The second disadvantage of using those tendrils is... well, maybe it's not really a disadvantage but rather its own nature to be that way, but these tendrils are very vulnerable to fire, they are able to hold some times on their own on fire when enhanced on aina but that was all, a weak fire-breather like those drakes might not damage it but a strong fire-wielding creature like that thing would burn the hell out of this.

***

I hurled myself onto a platform just above my head.

For weeks, I've restricted myself to the area around where I was attacked; so far, I've survived by eating the remains of that group of Drake; those monsters' flesh didn't taste particularly great, but it was definitely decent compared to what I've eaten since fleeing to this forest; if I were feeling optimistic, I'd even say it tasted similar to fish flesh.

But the smell.

I got a chill just from thinking of it, it smelled so terrible,

Or to be exact My brain thinks it smells terrible.

Some wyrms and Drakes, being high beasts, cannot use magic, but they do have the ability to breathe fire, which has nothing to do with magic and is more of a natural and anatomical thing, similar to how certain snakes can produce venom. Most Dragonoid possess a pouch in their stomach in which is stored a liquid highly combustible under a certain condition produced by a small gemstone inside that pouch.

It's only when that pouch is ripped, as it was the case during my first evisceration, that the Drake body emits that foul odor.

That smell would linger in your mind for so long that it would trick your mind into thinking that everything you ate and smelled tasted and smelled horrendous even if it isn’t the case anymore.

Having spent too much time in the same emplacement, I decided to broaden my knowledge of the area.

Now that I've acquired something that can finally more or less replace my sight and limbs, there's no reason for me to camp in the same spot I've been doing since my arrival here.

As far as I'm aware, there are still some platforms below me, but I'd rather avoid going downward; instead, if I had to venture in any direction, I'd prefer to go forward or, at the very least, upward.

So, while wandering, I came across a very large and long platform, which I assume is a cluster of two of these massive mushrooms, in which a mini-jungled-like ecosystem had grown, not so far away from it was the soothing noise of a waterfall.

Unexpectedly, I caught the smell of something …

Sweet.

That smell was the smell of something sweet.

I followed the smell like a dog, to finally reach the place, a field strawn with egg-shapped shell thing ranging from the size of a watermelon to the size of a small room.

I followed the scent like a dog until I arrived at the destination, a strawn field dotted with hundreds of ovoid things ranging in size from a watermelon to a small room.

The object resembled an egg or something with an ovoid shell. I'm not sure, but if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that that thing is the product of some kind of plant, since I could feel layers of leaves just beneath each of the ovoid things.

Upon closer inspection, I realized where the thing that attracted me, came from; the ovoid shell is usually close, but among those shells, one had the shell broken, and it was from there that the sweet smell emanated.

In curiosity, I was about to dip one of my tendrils extremities inside the cracked ovoid shell but refrained from doing so and instead decide to use my still aching hand.

The shell seemed almost completely empty, but at the bottom, I could finally reach a thick and sticky substance, like honey.

There was no doubt about it, it was that sticky thing that exuded that sweet scent.

That thing could have been everything, poison, venom, or potential dangerous thing produced by nature, but, the first thing I did upon reaching that thing was to bring it to my mouth.

And to my infite delight, the smell didn’t betray the taste, whatever that thing was, it might have been the sweetest thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.

I dripped my hand once again inside the shell and began licking my hand dripping with that strange liquid.

For once after nearly two or three months, I’ve eaten something that tasted good on any sane human standards.

When delighting myself to my fullest with that nectar or honey-like thing, I heard something loud and heavy falling from the sky or at least from an above platform, crashing loudly not so far away in front of me.

Pretty standard in this place.

Again and again and again.

It roared. The roar was almighty and deafening, but I was in an overly fool mood to care.

In front of me was a magical beast and definitely a strong and fearsome one, yet all I felt was anger and frustration.

Every time thing starts going slightly well, there’s always something or someone to come ruin it.

It’s always-always like this…

“Can’t I just have peace, for a single minute?!”