The Extra becomes the Villain's Bodyguard-Chapter 37: Action aid

The air was damp thick and rancid, a suffocating blend of rotting foliage, ammonia sharpness, and the eye-watering reek of feces left to fester. The jungle here was a squalid tangle, a writhing mass of vegetation drunk on its own decay. Gnarled roots bulged from the muck like the veins of some diseased giant, their surfaces glistening with slime and the piss of the goblins.

The very ground seemed to be breathing as it was releasing the hot, wet stench.

The undergrowth was a riot of bizarre forms. Broad, leathery leaves unfurled from thick, thorny vines that snaked across the ground and climbed the colossal trees.

Pulsating, some instances of bioluminescent fungi clung to decaying logs, casting an eerie, otherworldly glow in the deeper shadows.

He saw plants with delicate, bell-shaped flowers in hues he’d never witnessed, nestled beside clusters of what looked like sharp, obsidianthorns jutting from fleshy stalks. High-pitched clicks and whistles emanated from unseen creatures in the canopy.

Neville’s training screamed at him to be observant, to identify potential resources and threats. But his familiar knowledge was useless here. The leaves, the berries, the very air felt alien.

On Earth, he could identify edible plants, recognize signs of predators. Here, everything was a question mark, a potential poison, a hidden danger.

The vibrant colors that might signal ripeness back home could just as easily indicate toxicity in this bizarre ecosystem. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, put him on edge.

His stomach growled, a sudden overwhelming sensation to eat came over him. After walking around he scanned the alien flora, his eyes landing on clusters of small, purplish berries that bore a faint resemblance to blueberries back on Earth and some sections were eaten so it was edible right? Ignoring the nagging sense of unease, he plucked a handful and cautiously brought one to his nose. It smelled faintly sweet, but with an odd, musky undertone. He hesitated, then popped it into his mouth.

The initial taste was deceptively pleasant, a burst of sugary juice. But it quickly turned bitter, leaving a lingering, acrid aftertaste that made his tongue feel numb.

Within minutes, his stomach churned. Waves of nausea washed over him, followed by violent retching that left him weak and trembling. His broken arm protested with every heave, sending sharp jolts of pain through his body. He lay on the damp ground, sweating and miserable, the alien forest seeming to mock his desperate attempt at sustenance.

His next attempt was with a fleshy root he’d dug up with his knife. It looked somewhat like a parsnip, but its milky sap worried him so he discarded the idea.

Still, the gnawing hunger pushed him he found some peelings on the ground and after scanning he saw a fruit tree. Green mango-like fruits. He took a tiny nibble he was also dizzy and dehydrated. The taste was earthy, almost palatable at first, but then a fiery heat spread through his mouth and throat.

His lips swelled. He spat out the rest, his mouth burning like he’d swallowed embers. For hours, he battled debilitating diarrhea, his already weakened body further drained.

Learning became a torturous process of trial and agonizing error. He started observing the strange creatures, the multi-legged insects and the fleeting glimpses of larger fauna. He noticed some of the smaller, bird-like things pecking at certain bright red fungi. Cautiously, he broke off a tiny piece of the same fungus and brought it to his nose. No immediate burning sensation. He dabbed a minuscule amount on his tongue and waited, his heart pounding. No immediate reaction.

He waited longer, fighting the urge to swallow. After what felt like an eternity, nothing. It wasn’t palatable – earthy and slightly bitter – but it didn’t seem immediately toxic.

It had been a couple hours now... still hungry and in pain. His left arm throbbed relentlessly, a constant reminder of his vulnerability. Foraging with one good arm was slow and difficult. He learned to identify patterns: the vibrant, almost artificial colors often signaled danger, while duller, earthier tones were sometimes safer.

Normally he wouldn’t be test tasting things like these but he was so hungry and in a zombie-like state to satiate his hunger.

His first truly satisfying meal was a handful of large, starchy tubers he’d managed to dig up after watching a rabbit-like creature with iridescent fur devour them. While he could opt to hunt the rabbit but in his state it would be impossible.The tubers were bland but filling, and for the first time since waking in this nightmare, his stomach felt content. It was a small victory, hard-won through pain and risk,

Thirst soon became a more pressing concern than hunger. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and the relentless headache intensified with dehydration. He began his search for water, his ears straining for the telltale gurgle or trickle. The dense undergrowth made progress slow and painful with his injured arm. He followed the gentle slope of the land, hoping water would collect in a lower elevation.

Finally, he heard it – a faint, musical tinkling. Pushing through a thicket of thorny vines, he found a small stream, its water crystal clear as it flowed over smooth, multicolored stones. Relief washed over him in a physical wave. He knelt gingerly, his broken arm protesting, and cupped his hands, bringing the cool liquid to his parched lips. It tasted clean, almost metallic, but undeniably life-giving. He drank deeply, savoring each swallow, the tension in his body easing slightly. He even managed to splash some onto his face, the coolness a welcome sensation against his fevered skin.

Shelter was the next priority. The alien forest felt increasingly menacing as dusk began to paint the sky in hues of orange and violet.

The strange sounds of the night were amplified, carrying an undercurrent of potential danger. His first attempt at shelter was pathetic. He found a shallow hollow beneath the roots of a massive tree. It offered minimal protection from the elements and left him exposed on three sides. The damp earth chilled him, so he put a barrier of leaves between him and the ground, and the glowing fungi cast eerie shadows that didn’t appease with his paranoia.

He was woken up by hunger again but when he woke up. His hand was okay? While not fully healed it was at least functional to some extent making his less vulnerable.

********************************************

But within minutes, the pain in his ribs dulled.

At first, he thought it was his imagination. Then he took another bite. And another.

His body responded like a starving man at a feast. The deep ache in his muscles eased. The raw, blistered skin on his palms smoothed over. Even the lingering dizziness from his concussion faded, replaced by a sharp, unnatural clarity.

This isn’t normal.

Back home, no herb worked this fast. No medicine knit flesh together in hours. But here, in this warped reflection of a forest, the rules were different.

He kept moving, testing his limits.

With each step, his legs grew steadier. His breathing came easier. The stiffness in his joints melted away, replaced by a strange, humming energy. The forest itself seemed to respond—vines shifting subtly out of his path, the ground firming beneath his feet as if guiding him.

Or conditioning him.

And that terrified him more than the absence of preditors in this ecosystem.

He had expected to fight for his life at every turn. Instead, he found only small, skittish things—no larger than a rabbit, their bodies covered in iridescent scales or chitinous plates. They watched him with cautiosly before vanishing into the foliage, neither aggressive nor afraid. Just... curious.

No monsters.

That realization settled in his mind.

If the bigger predators weren’t here, then where were they?

The answer came to him like a punch to the gut.

Earth.

The fissures. The endless waves of creatures pouring through.

They weren’t here because they were there.

And if monsters could cross over...

Then so can I.

***********************************

Neville had noticed it first while building his shelter.

At first, weaving the thorny vines into a crude barrier had been agonizing—his fingers fumbling, the strange plants resisting his grip. But the more he worked, the smoother his movements became. His hands remembered the motions. The vines seemed almost pliant, as if the forest itself was easing his task.

Then, without warning, the progress stopped.

His fingers stiffened again. The vines snapped back to their usual, uncooperative state. It was as if some unseen limit had been reached, some invisible quota filled.

So he tested it.

He ran.

At first, his legs were heavy, his breath ragged. But with each stride, his body adjusted—his muscles burning less, his movements growing fluid, almost effortless. For a brief, exhilarating moment, he felt faster than he’d ever been on Earth. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Then, just as suddenly, the ease vanished.

His muscles locked up. His lungs seized. A wave of hunger overcame him, worse than before, as if his body was demanding payment for the borrowed strength. He stumbled to a halt, sweat pouring down his face, his stomach wanting to eat itself.

Luckily he was prepared this time. The strange, fleshy fruit he’d gathered earlier and brought along just incase. He devoured it without hesitation, the bitterness now almost comforting.

As the pain ebbed, realization settled over him.

Something was aiding his actions... but only to a point.

Push too far, and the cost came due.

It wasn’t just healing... it seems.

And if he could learn its rules...