Perhaps I need to think about this differently. It is a bit of a convoluted scenario after all.
No matter what I do, I'll grow over time. There's no question about that. What I can change, however, is how long it takes and how I feel during that time.
Option one is the worst. Basically, it involves speedrunning reincarnations in quick succession to gain abilities. I don't have to explain why that's not a great idea.
My second option is to milk every life to its full potential. Of course, I'd need to know the specifics of how this System works for that. It'd involve a lot of risks and delayed power ups, so that I can get better evolutions due to that.
I'm... not exactly sure about that one. Sure, it would be quite fast, at least it'd keep my deaths to a minimum. On the other hand, there are so many ways it could go wrong. Sort of even feels like this strategy is just option 1 with extra steps.
And of course, there's the last one, the one I thought I wanted to do. The one that'd prioritize survival. Which does mean I'd get less from each life and my growth would be slower, but each life would be longer. And won't I have more opportunities to grow if my lives are longer?
Argh! I just don't know! Why's it got to be so complicated?
You know what, screw this! I'm a starfish with god-damned regeneration! I may as well take a few risks.
I careful extruded myself from the little crevice I was in and once again beheld the open ocean. Not that I could see that much anyway.
Huh, I can see... I can see on the bottom of a sea... Where it's usually quite dark. Wow, I'm an idiot. How did I not realize sooner that I'm glowing?
Anyway, ignoring that, it's time to explore.
If I try to ignore paranoia and just focus on the facts, then I can assume there really isn't a predator in these waters. Even so, just in case, I'll only be out and about during the day, when a teensy bit of light does shine here and I'll hopefully be less noticeable.
Now then, let the hunt begin. I'm willing to risk it for another two levels. The I'll evolve with a path. Sounds like a fair compromise.
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Humanity watched, hidden behind a layer of reality. What was it watching?
It watched as, in a certain world, a powerful ritual came to completion. The magic surged, thrumming with power and energy, and pierced an unseen veil. Then it stabilized the resulting tunnel.
That was, of course, another tralagix incursion. Specifically, an attempted invasion into Humanity's world. But as Humanity watched on, and the many tiny specks that were parts of Tralag-Urd passed through the portal, nothing happened.
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At least, nothing on Earth. The portal exited in the wrong place, thus buying humanity more time to prepare and adjust to its new reality.
"That's already the third one," Humanity murmured. "If this keeps happening our decoy, my champion, is going to have to face them soon."
The portal closes, leaving Humanity staring out into nothing.
"I should maybe give them a small boon. It wouldn't be good if the tralagix caught on to my scheme too quickly, which could happen if they catch my little hero."
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Ocean life is weird. It’s sort of paradoxical, I’d say. There are so many creatures here, so many species all living in the same place. And yet at the same time it feels so empty, like there’s nothing for miles and miles in all directions. Sort of… lonely.
I’m trying to find a better prey than corals right now. Or it could still be corals, I just want it to be at least a bit hidden. With my eyes on lookout in all directions, literally, it shouldn’t take me too long.
Oh, yeah, that’s another thing. With my practice to dim my bioluminescence, I’ve also inadvertently learned to temporarily strengthen it. Makes it a bit easier to look for things, at the cost of being even more visible than usual.
But I’ve come to slowly accept that.
Besides, it’s not as if I have it on full blast at all times. No, I only pulse it every now and then. Mostly because I can’t actually have it that intense at all times. Probably something like an untrained muscle.
So, that’s how I search. A flash of light to look around and then a bit of shuffling along in whatever direction looks best. Which, for the most part, include a bunch of holes and crevices.
My search continues for a while, without bearing any fruit, until I feel a strange impulse.
The same sort of feeling that causes one to do a double-take flows through me, so I flash my light once more. Then, a similarly strange instinct tells me to dim my light as much as I can. And then I see it.
Hidden in a small divot, there’s just the slightest hint of a soft glow. A different glow to my own.
Wait, I thought sea creatures usually glow in the really deep depths, not here relatively close to the surface!?
Sure, sure, I’m an outlier, but that’s because I gained that trait in a past life! How could any old animal do that?
My mind immediately turns to thought of another reincarnator, but that’s just wishful thinking. I better go check it out before I convince myself of something foolish.
Filled with trepidation, I approach the glowing spot.
Then, once I’m close enough to see, I look inside and see… and see… What the hell is that?
I kind of expected it to be another starfish, because, well, because I’m one? That doesn’t really make sense, but yeah.
Anyway, what I’m seeing here is a… long… and thick… pulsating organism…
Wait, no, it’s not how it sounds! I think it’s a sea cucumber! Yes, that’s definitely what it is, nothing else! Just a regular old sea cucumber, laying on the sea floor, chilling and… glowing.
Wow, almost forgot about that important detail for a second there. Yeah, glowing sea cucumber.
…
I should eat it, shouldn’t I?
I mean, it’s basically begging me to. Every single person who even just tangentially knows video games would do it, right? Like, a rare glowing version of a creature that’s hidden? how could it not give me something special?
Surely nothing bad can come off this.
Just don’t think about the suspicious circumstances surrounding my discovery of it. I’m sure it was just a coincidence, or maybe something benevolent.
Yes, good. Now let me devour this thing and get myself a power up.
I regurgitate my stomach and throw it onto the sea cucumber.
For a little while, nothing happens. Then, all of a sudden, probably because my stomach acid ate through the outer layer of skin, the cucumber starts to writhe and thrash on the sea floor.
At the same time, I begin to feel something, some kind of energy perhaps, flow into me, strengthening me, filling me with power and potential. Before long, the current dries out, leaving me energised to the point I feel like I’ll burst, and the cucumber dead.