How many days have passed since then? From the cursed doll, I’ve finally managed to change into something that can pass as human.
The Mandrake flower growing from my head absolutely could not be removed, so I’ve grown other flowers and plants alongside it and made it look like I’m wearing a hat decorated with flowers. I thought having only a Mandrake flower might draw suspicion, so I wished to be able to grow other species of plants too — and acquired the skill “Diversification.” For any plant I’ve previously absorbed, I can grow it in any quantity I like by spending my own magical energy.
(Skills cost 10 Evolution Points when learned, which was a shock… but at least I had enough points.)
Evolution Points increase by 1 with each level-up, and it seems monsters use these points to strengthen themselves. …I’m probably the only one who’s spent dozens of points just to look human.
I’ve been in combat a few more times since then, and without noticing, my level climbed all the way to 99.
[Species] Mandrake (Singular)
[Level] 99
[Vitality] A
[Magic] Immeasurable
[Skills] Diffusion Voice Medicinal Synthesis Status Display Diversification
[Evolution Points] 32
[Description]
A supreme-quality Mandrake raised on dragon’s blood, saturated with abundant magical energy. Capable of producing any variety of medicine when used as a material, but has consumed countless monsters for sustenance and amassed tremendous power — capture is impossible.
Hearing its voice results in death by curse — countermeasures are essential. Approaches in human disguise to lower the target’s guard, and attacks from distances beyond visual range using its voice diffusion ability.
Capable of reproducing a wide variety of plants and extracting their compounds to produce numerous substances, enabling status-ailment attacks. Without complete countermeasures against both curses and status ailments, engaging this creature is inadvisable.
A threat to humanity. A monster of calamity. Unless you are a hero, flee immediately to save your life.
(Hmm… incredible… it’s turned into such a villain’s description. And who exactly is this description talking to…? Also I think I’ve gotten a reasonably good-looking human appearance, but is it actually frightening?)
I peer into the lotus pond. It’s a beautiful pond, reminiscent of Monet’s — but these lotuses are extraordinarily toxic flowers, and nothing lives in the water. Perhaps for that reason it’s exceptionally clear and still, so I can see my reflection quite well. Not as well as a real mirror, but close enough.
Before, it was nothing but a cursed doll’s wild, tangled hair — and now it’s changed into lustrous, gently-waving hair (or vines that look like it). The gradient from green to pink is unavoidable since it’s the vines’ natural coloring. It gives off a somewhat fantastical air, but I think that’s within acceptable range. I can just say I dyed it.
I adjusted my height, too, recalling the humans I’d glimpsed. There was a limit to how much I could grow per point, so it cost 10 points before I finally reached about one-and-a-half heads shorter than the humans I’d seen. Any taller and the points aren’t worth it, so I’m giving up there. If that’s still unnaturally short for a human woman, I can manage with high-heeled shoes or something. I don’t think I’ll be gaining levels anymore, so I want to hold onto as many points as I can.
(Well… when I first reached human height, I went from looking like a cursed doll to looking like a cursed mannequin, and that was its own kind of terrifying…)
Like something that would lurch out at you in a run-down shopping mall in a monster-hunting game, maybe — that’s the closest description I have. My mid-evolution forms were absolutely not fit for human eyes.
From there, I adjusted my skin tone, removed the webbing, refined my limbs and facial features, and at long last arrived at something resembling a human appearance. That alone must have cost more than 10 points. Whatever minor oddities remain are covered enough by clothing and flowers that they should pass.
(The outfit too… yes. Looking in the water-mirror, it’s not bad.)
When I finally had a clearly feminine, human-shaped form, I agonized over what to do about clothes. And arrived at the thought: if I don’t have any, I’ll just make some. After all, I can freely produce and manipulate plants — and there are plant-based textiles, so I just had to reproduce those.
First I walked through the forest absorbing every plant I could find, identifying what would work best for fabric. Growing it from the top of my head means I can shape it freely — so I wove plant fibers into clothing. …Though, well, unlike human hair, vines do have pain receptors, and while pulling apart one or two or even ten fibers is one thing, tearing apart hundreds and thousands of interwoven vines was quite painful, so I gave up on separating them fully.
The outfit I’m wearing is, in the end, still connected to the hair at the nape of my neck. I’ve grown the hair long enough to reach around my waist, and since the connection is completely hidden back there, it should be fine.
(I need to keep skin exposure to an absolute minimum. …Touch things and I absorb them.)
The dress I shaped to follow my body’s lines is simple and a pale green. It felt a bit plain, so I grew some flowers over it as decoration. …Yes, I’ve covered myself in flowers, but it still reads as human. At worst, people will think I’m extraordinarily fond of flowers.
And most importantly: gloves. Connected to the dress, covering all the way to my fingertips, keeping the root portions hidden. Anyone who sees me might wonder how I got dressed in something like this — but the thought of exposing my skin frightens me.
That keeping vines between myself and others means I won’t absorb their energy when I touch them has already been confirmed on monster corpses. My fashion has become distinctly eccentric, but what matters is whether I can live well among humans. Being thought of as an odd one is fine. …Far better than accidentally killing someone.
(Taken care of the screaming too… this should be enough to blend in with humans.)
Perhaps it’s in the nature of the Mandrake species, but I am an exceptionally timid and easily-startled creature. I shriek at the smallest things. So, to keep from screaming carelessly, I built a kind of lid over my vocalization organs. It stays closed unless I deliberately intend to speak, to stop me from screaming on reflex. …The downside is that I can no longer automatically counter-attack with my voice when startled by a monster. But it’s better than killing people.
On top of that, when I am screaming, the lid clamps down hard — and the tension pulls at something around my face, locking it into a smile. So whenever I feel like screaming on the inside, my face smiles despite itself. …Well, I’d like to believe that probably won’t cause too many problems.
(Alright — all set. Setting off toward human civilization!)
Of course, I have no idea where any human civilization actually is, so I have a destination in only the loosest sense. This area seems to be at a high elevation, so I’ve decided to follow a river downstream. Humans can’t live without water, and they tend to build settlements near rivers. …If the humans of this world aren’t drastically different from those of my old one, I should be able to reach at least a village.
(When I meet a human, first I should… a greeting?)
Oh no, I’ve completely forgotten how to interact with people. I’ve done nothing but scream and haven’t had a proper conversation once. I might need to practice speaking a little.
Walking along a small stream, I notice a rabbit in the underbrush watching me. It’s a monster-type rabbit — I can tell it’s there because its distinctively shaped horns are sticking out from the brush, giving it away. As practice, I try speaking to the rabbit in the gentlest voice I can manage.
“My, what are you doing all the way out here?”
No, that’s wrong. A greeting first — “hello” or something like that would be more appropriate. Before I can open my mouth to try again, I see the horns tip quietly to the side.
(Hm. …Not just screaming — speaking is dangerous too?)
The Mandrake’s scream has the effect of incapacitating or instantly killing. I’d assumed not screaming would be enough — apparently not.
It’s not impossible the rabbit is playing dead. Those who die from my voice develop a black stain on their chest, so I approach the underbrush to check. …If this rabbit is dead, that means I can’t speak in front of people.
“Leave me… alone…”
And there, collapsed on the other side of the brush, is a blood-soaked human. …Wait, this person just heard my voice, didn’t he? Isn’t this bad?