Leon's breath came slow and steady as he traced his fingers along the slick surface of the cocoon. It was strange—translucent and pulsing faintly, as if it were alive. The air around him carried the scent of damp earth and something faintly metallic, like blood.
He didn't waste time hesitating. He dug his fingers into the soft membrane and tore through it. A wet, tearing sound filled the silence as he pushed himself out, his body slipping free of the cocoon's sticky embrace. The moment his feet touched solid ground, he turned and studied the strange structure behind him.
The outer shell was hard—almost impossibly so. He rapped his knuckles against it, and it felt like striking solid stone. Yet, the inner walls had been soft, yielding to his touch as if they had been designed to nurture rather than trap.
"Is this why I survived?" he wondered.
If this cocoon had been made by his own body, then it had protected him—sealed him away and healed him. A strange, viscous liquid still clung to his skin, its scent sharp and foreign. He scraped some of it onto his fingertips and rubbed it between his fingers. It was thick, sticky, and slightly warm.
"This must be what treated my wounds… but how? And more importantly—how do I control it?"
He clenched his fists. His body felt different—stronger. It wasn't just the absence of pain or the restoration of his severed hand. There was something deeper, something under his skin, humming with untapped potential.
Experimentally, he flexed his fingers, and as he did, something extraordinary happened.
A dark, chitinous armor spread over his fist, its texture eerily similar to the exoskeleton of the scorpion he had fought. The surface gleamed faintly in the dim light, a seamless fusion of flesh and hardened shell.
Leon stared, his heartbeat quickening.
"Is this because I ate the scorpion's flesh?"
He willed the strange armor to disappear. It obeyed, retracting into his skin as if it had never been there. He called it forth again, and just like before, it formed instantly, like it had always been a part of him.
The realization sent a shiver down his spine.
"This power… it's mine."
But how did it work?
He thought back to the transformation—the moment he had entered the cocoon. The hunger, the exhaustion, the drowsiness that had overtaken him. It wasn't just the fight that had triggered it—it was the food.
Testing his theory, he crouched beside the remains of the scorpion and carved another chunk of meat from its corpse. The raw flesh was bitter, tough, but he forced himself to chew and swallow.
Nothing happened.
He frowned. If eating alone wasn't the trigger, then what was?
His eyes drifted to the sharp rock he had used to stab the scorpion. An idea formed—a reckless, dangerous idea.
"What if…?"
Before he could talk himself out of it, he gripped the rock and pressed its jagged edge to his own forearm. The cold sting of stone against skin sent a brief shiver through him. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he drove the tip into his flesh.
Pain flared through his body.
Instantly, that familiar wave of drowsiness hit him. His limbs felt heavy, his eyelids drooping. But this time, he fought against it, forcing himself to stay conscious. The exhaustion clawed at his mind, trying to drag him under, but he gritted his teeth and resisted.
And then—just as suddenly as it had come—the feeling faded.
Leon exhaled, his breath unsteady.
"So that's how it works."
The injury was the trigger. The food was the fuel. He didn't enter the cocoon simply because he was wounded—he needed both elements for the transformation to occur. If he was starving, no amount of injuries would push him into hibernation. But if he was full…
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
He was starting to understand.
He still didn't know the full extent of his abilities, but one thing was certain—this power wasn't a curse. It was a weapon. And if he could master it, it would be his key to survival.
His key to the capital.
With renewed determination, Leon stood, casting one last glance at the cocoon before turning toward the path ahead.
He had a journey to complete.