Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 54 - 51: Blossomed and Bore Fruit

After Kevin left, Grape popped his head out of the closet where he’d been hiding. One has to say, as an explorer, his survival instinct to hide at the first sign of trouble was a big help.

"This is the first time I’ve seen an Andrey who maintains normal social interaction."

Lyle tapped his head, a subconscious action. Ever since his head had become like this, he’d developed the habit of gently touching his cranium while thinking.

"It is indeed hard to imagine those individuals engaging in normal communication with people, but, Mr. Gentleman probably maintains normal diplomacy as well."

"No, Plague Doctor, the name Andrey has become almost synonymous with hermit. Keeping up a disguise and contacting humans is certainly a thankless task."

"I don’t have a choice, after all, my position cannot be abandoned yet."

"You still have work in human society, Plague Doctor?"

"Yes, the work of a sheriff, a keeper of social order."

"Is this the first step to your secret rule over humanity?"

"I have no such thoughts, and besides, do not see me as a separate class; I, too, am human."

"I understand, I will assist with your human disguise, but please don’t forget that you are inherently different now."

There was no refuting that, for the insides of a normal person are not like the yolk of an egg.

His body had completely entered a state of fasting, not feeling hunger, with a completely calcified and brittle "eggshell" outside the head, but no discomfort in the limbs.

His tolerance to temperature had diminished, allowing for a clearer sensation of hot and cold, thus developing a varying sense of time depending on the temperature.

When it was warm, his actions and thoughts sped up, feeling as if time had slowed down. The cold had the opposite effect.

In the afternoon, as the temperature began to drop, Lyle planned to head to Andrey, for there was no firewood at home to maintain warmth.

Lyle stretched his finger towards the emblem, then collapsed to the ground.

Night had fallen, and his span of time had been extended to nearly a standstill.

......

The first perception he regained was a cold touch on his face, followed by warmth, and then the sting of direct sunlight in his slightly opened eyes.

When he woke up, it was already the next day.

He had slept on the ground all night, but fortunately, it was summer, and his body was healthy enough that other than stiff joints and a slight crick in the neck, there were no problems.

Hm? Neck?

After his head turned into an egg, he could barely feel that part. When he pressed his hand to the back of his neck, it was gone; his egghead was gone.

He stroked his face, feeling the familiar rough skin, the gaunt cheeks, the bridge of the nose, and the delicate eyebrows. It was a clear and familiar sensation, as if that egg-shaped head had been nothing but a ludicrous dream. A sense of disorientation about what day of the week it was began to surge in Lyle’s heart.

Was it all a nightmare?

Lyle dropped his hand, almost slipping on something smooth.

He grabbed it for a closer look; it was a round sphere, the size of a soccer ball, milky white, with a rubbery exterior that was slightly springy when pressed, smooth, seemingly covered with a layer of mucus.

"What is this?"

"Your fruit," Grape said, sitting next to Lyle, curiously observing the sphere. Last night, when Lyle had been unconscious, it had stayed by his side, watching over him.

"My fruit? What do you mean?"

"Indeed, traveling thousands of miles is better than reading thousands of books. My research on your species is not deep. I’ve always categorized you as primates by my own ways, but I may have to revise my cognition time and again. I’m now in a quandary over whether to kick your species out of the animal kingdom."

"Simply put, last night, you bloomed, bore fruit, and it’s the one in your hand."

Startled, Lyle tossed the sphere away, but before it could hit the ground, he caught it again, driven by an instinct not to harm it.

"Go on, explain, Grape." Lyle held the fruit in his arms, making sure there would be no accidents.

"When the White Moon appeared, the lump on your face burst, and something like black plant roots grew out. At thirty centimeters above the ground, they twisted into a flower bud. At the coming of the Red Moon, the bud bloomed, and with the end of the Red Moon, the fruit grew as the rest of the tissue withered and turned to sand. Your asexual reproduction was completed."

"......"

Did I just give birth to a Nezha?

Looking at the sphere in my arms, no matter how I looked, it didn’t resemble a living being. Could it be just like Miracle mentioned, a split offspring?

I couldn’t feel a heartbeat. I shook it up and down, the inside wasn’t fluid, it was solid.

Wow! It stuck to my hand. Even if I didn’t hold onto it, swinging my arm in the air, it clung tightly to my palm.

Was it the effect of the slime? It looked like watery egg white, but it surely didn’t have that much adhesive power.

Regardless, it’s not good for it to be stuck like this all the time.

Just as this thought crossed my mind, the sphere dropped. Hitting the floor, it bounced back into Lyle’s palm with some elasticity.

I gathered my thoughts. It seemed I was using it wrong.

Delusional Egg. Does that mean it’s controlled by thoughts?

I cleared my mind, stared at the sphere, thinking of a fixed vocabulary.

It stuck again, not through the slime but more like some sort of biological magnetism.

The initial test’s success gave Lyle a little surprise. He started to view this "cheater" talent more positively.

The texture was quite suitable. It would be perfect if there were no slime.

The slime on the surface appeared to have evaporated but was actually absorbed by the sphere.

It could use a bit more of a mineral texture, transparent would be best.

The sphere became translucent, the rubbery feel turned to one of glass, and Lyle could see the floorboards beneath through it.

Looking at it this way, it kind of resembled a snow globe.

Inside the sphere, flurries of snow began to swirl, and the music of a music box echoed in Lyle’s ears. At the center of the sphere was a little figure holding the sphere—it was him. He was looking at his own sphere, which in turn looked at the sphere-holding figure...

Lyle shook his head, emptying his brain, and the infinite nesting dolls within the sphere vanished.

"So, how about some gold coins?"

A few Oliou coins lay inside the egg, but no matter how much he shook, they wouldn’t fall out.

They’re just ornaments, after all.

This sphere, it seemed to have lost any practical value.

Perhaps to contradict his thoughts,

the egg’s surface oozed with a brilliant slime once more.

When an unidentified liquid appears before you, and its true nature is unknown, cautious people wouldn’t touch it. Rash people, judging that it looks rather appealing, have only one thought in mind.

Take a lick.

It had no taste, the texture between water and flavorless jelly. After consuming it, there was no particular sensation in the body.

I had thought it would taste good.

The slime turned golden yellow, with a hint of sweetness.

I scraped off a little with my finger and licked it.

It was meat! The taste of meat!

Without hesitation, I boiled a pot of water. Once I confirmed the egg was unharmed, I dropped it into the pot, added some vegetables and mixed seasonings, and simmered on low heat for an hour. The meat soup was ready.

As I stirred the soup with a ladle, I pondered if my talent was leading me down the path of the God of Food, to become the king of soups with this mysterious slime?

Done.

I fished out an egg that was much larger than before, looking fresh and plump. The original vegetables and seasonings were nowhere to be seen, and the water had reduced by more than half.

Were they eaten?

I held the basketball-sized egg in my hands. It was slightly warmer than before but still didn’t reach body temperature.

This guy, could it be a Slime?