Chapter 6: Beware of The Lustroot Vine

The air was different now. Colder.

A quiet tension had settled over the camp, replacing the familiar, chaotic comfort. The flames in the campfire—usually a flickering dance of violet and gold—pulsed like a slow, rhythmic heartbeat, casting long, uncertain shadows. Even the mushrooms that once glowed brightly around their camp had begun to dim, their faint light fading with the last embers of safety.

Allen, the weight of leadership pressing on his shoulders like a physical force, broke the silence. "We have a choice to make," he said, his voice steady but heavy. "We can head north to a human settlement or stay here, in the safe zone."

He'd never met Kon, only heard about her from the others. Trusting a magical deity he'd never seen felt like a gamble. But staying meant waiting for the forest to turn against them.

"The catch is," Allen continued, lowering his voice, "her route takes us through the orc hunting grounds. During their mating season no less."

A collective shiver rippled through the group. The fire seemed to flicker uneasily, as if it, too, understood the gravity of his words.

Mei, ever the maternal anchor, pulled Miyu closer. "As a mother, I'm nervous about bringing her along," she said, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "But the wind's getting colder. If we stay, the food will become scarce. The mushrooms are fading. That means the mana field protecting us is weakening." Her fingers trembled slightly as she brushed Miyu's hair behind her ear, a tiny, tell-tale sign of her fear. Everyone knew her fear was born of love, not cowardice.

Protag-kun, sprawled beside a pile of half-eaten fruit, pouted. "Come on, guys. We've been isekai'd. We should've reached town by now. That's how it works in the manga."

"This isn't a light novel, Protag-kun. We don't have infinite stamina or plot armor," Allen raised an eyebrow. "We're walking through a sea of orcs. Even if teleportation magic exists, how does one even use it? For all we know, even if we were compatible, we could materialize thirty feet above ground or inside a tree trunk."

Protag-kun glanced at the mushrooms as he grumbled. Their glow had dimmed to a faint pulse, and he knew Allen was right. "Then the longer we stay, the more monsters creep closer. I saw claw marks on the trees this morning. Fresh ones."

Monica had been quiet the entire time, unusual for her. But Allen could read her gaze, steady and resolute. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but firm.

"There's one more thing we should bring up." She held her locket in both hands. It shimmered faintly, pulsing with orange light like a heartbeat. "Allen, if the situation demands it… will you finally transform into a magical girl?"

The question hung in the air like a spell, heavy, binding, and impossible to ignore. Allen's face flushed. He felt the weight of every stare, and his own locket felt cold against his skin, its full mana charge a constant reminder of the power he refused to use. The thought of it—the frills, the ribbons, the skirt—made his skin crawl.

He'd seen Monica's transformation. It was powerful, so not using it would be a foolish mistake.

Protag-kun, bless his chaotic heart, burst into laughter. "Can you imagine? Summoned to another world while asleep, and then given a magical locket after he finally wakes up. Classic!"

Since awakening his magic, Protag-kun had become more brazen, teasing Allen at every turn. But Allen wasn't about to let him have the last word.

"Is that a goblin?" Allen said, pointing behind him.

Protag-kun screamed and dove behind Miyu, clutching her like a human shield. The creature rustling through the grass turned out to be Cinnamon, returning from the washroom with a leaf stuck to his tail.

"What was that all about?" Protag-kun shouted, voice cracking. "You don't joke about things like this!"

After a moment that felt like an eternity, Allen sighed, the pressure mounting like a weight pressing against his ribs. "Fine, Monica," he relented, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He raised a hand, already bracing for the chaos. "But only if we agree to a set of rules."

Monica leaned forward, eyes wide with hope. "Rules?"

"We conserve our energy," Allen said firmly. "No flashy transformations unless absolutely necessary. It's our last ace, and we don't play it unless the situation demands it. Promise?"

Monica's face lit up with a mix of relief and excitement as she interlocked her left pinky with Allen's pinky. "Magical girl promise!"

Miyu and Cinnamon, who had been listening with rapt attention, erupted in cheers. "Yah! Allen is a magical girl! Yah!" Miyu bounced in place while Cinnamon spun in a celebratory circle on her shoulder, squeaking like a tiny cheerleader.

The next few days passed with little skirmishes. The group followed the river trail north, using the clean water and natural cover to avoid monster encounters. The terrain grew colder, the wind sharper, and the glowing mushrooms that once marked safe zones became fewer and dimmer. Mana in the air felt thinner, as if the world itself were holding its breath.

Eventually, the river split into two branches, each winding into dense forest.

"Left or right?" Allen asked, scanning the terrain. Both paths looked equally ominous.

"Come on," Protag-kun said, marching confidently toward the left fork. "Ever the NPC. Even someone like you should know the hero always chooses the harder path. Left is where the real adventure begins."

His optimism was fueled by countless manga tropes—where protagonists always chose the dangerous route to unlock hidden power or defeat the demon lord. But this world didn't care about narrative arcs. It cared about survival.

"Wait—stop!" Mei shouted, her voice slicing through the air.

Too late.

Protag-kun’s confidence, built on a foundation of manga logic and pure ego, crumbled the moment the vine pulsed to life. It didn't just wrap around him; it did so with an almost malicious grace, each coil tightening with a soft squelch. He didn't scream, not at first. Instead, a serene, almost blissful expression washed over his face. His struggles faded, his body going limp as a sweet, cloying scent—like overripe fruit and sickly-sweet honey—filled the air.

Mei’s voice was a sharp command that cut through the haze. "Allen, don't touch him! I've seen other creatures also entangled by it." She grabbed his arm before he could leap forward, her grip surprisingly strong. "It drains stamina and magical resistance. Physical force won't work."

The vine exuded a sweet, intoxicating scent—like overripe fruit and honeyed perfume. Monica wrinkled her nose. "Is it... aphrodisiacal?"

Mei nodded grimly, her eyes fixed on the vine's rhythmic pulsing. "It lures prey with pleasure, then feeds on their mana until they collapse. Once it has enough energy, it will lay its eggs in the host's body."

The word "eggs" was a cold shock that jolted the group into action. Despite Protag-kun's many flaws, they couldn’t leave him to be slowly drained into blissful oblivion—and then turned into a living nest. They quickly gathered dry twigs and bark, working with a frantic purpose. Allen used a flint to create a spark, his hands steady despite the chilling revelation.

The moment the tiny flame licked at its base, the vine recoiled instantly. It hissed, not like a snake, but like a pot of boiling water, shriveling away from the heat until it released its prey. Protag-kun collapsed onto the ground, panting and covered in a sticky, sweet-smelling residue.

"Whoa... I thought I was going to become tentacle porn after that," he wheezed, his voice hoarse.

Allen groaned. "You're lucky Mei knew what to do before you became a mom."

The mishap had cost them precious daylight, and the temperature was dropping fast. A cold wind cut through the trees, carrying with it a sharp chill. The forest around them grew eerily quiet, the normal chirps and rustles of small creatures replaced by a heavy, foreboding silence.

"So, Mei," Allen asked, brushing ash from his hands, "do we keep going left or try the right path?"

Mei tapped her chin, her eyes scanning the terrain. "Let's continue left toward that rock cliff. If we're careful, we can use the remaining vines as a perimeter. They'll deter monsters while we sleep."

With cautious agreement, the group pressed on, their laughter from earlier replaced by the focused silence of a party on a mission.

***

Allen trudged back to the makeshift camp, his shoulders heavy with fatigue and frustration. The wind had picked up, carrying the scent of pine and a sickly-sweet smell that still clung to Protag-kun. He sat down, his face a grim mask of concentration, eyes scanning the horizon even as he rested.

Monica wordlessly handed him a strip of orc jerky, but before he could take a bite, she leaned in and nibbled the edge of it with a mischievous grin.

"Hey!" Allen protested, blinking at her in disbelief.

Monica giggled, her eyes sparkling with playful defiance. "You looked like you didn't need the extra protein," she teased, chewing quickly before he could snatch it back.

Protag-kun, laying his jerky pieces into a leaf, let out a guffaw. "You snooze, you lose," he chortled.

But his laughter died abruptly when he turned back to his food. Cinnamon, the tiny hamster, had devoured the entire meal. A single crumb clung to his cheek like a badge of guilt. Protag-kun let out a primal scream and began chasing the rodent in circles, his cries echoing off the cliffside. The absurdity did little to lift Allen's spirits.

Mei, ever observant, knelt besides him. Her voice was soft, threaded with genuine concern. "Is everything okay, Allen?"

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the forest below. "I don't know, Mei. I just... I don't know what to do." He gestured vaguely toward the trees, where shadows stretched long and deep. "I scouted the area. It's bad. The army's massive—and they're not moving, they're spreading. Every path looks like a trap. I'm trying to find a way through, but it's like the forest itself is closing in."

He sighed, the weight of leadership pressing down like a physical force. His locket felt cold against his skin, a constant reminder of the magical power he refused to use. "I feel ridiculous. A guy trying to lead a magical girl-obsessed otaku, a shut-in NEET, a pop idol, a child, and a hamster through a monster-infested world."

Just then, Protag-kun collapsed from exhaustion, a pathetic heap on the ground. Monica and Miyu, a macabre duo, began poking him with a stick to check if he was still alive. Their giggles echoed like wind chimes, light and carefree—a sharp contrast to Allen's inner storm.

Mei smiled, a gentle curve of her lips that seemed to soften the cold around them.

"Allen," she began, her voice a melodic hum against the wind, "when I was an idol, I used to overthink everything. Camera angles, choreography, the tiniest note I hit—I obsessed over it all." She chuckled, the sound warm and nostalgic. "I made up so many problems. Convinced myself the world would end if I missed a beat."

Her gaze drifted towards Miyu, who was now trying to braid Monica's hair. "But then... I had her."

She turned back to Allen, her eyes shining with maternal love. "And all of it melted away. The awards, the fame—it didn't matter. Seeing her smile, being there for her... that was everything."

She reached out and gently patted his head, her tough light but grounded. "You're trying to carry everyone's burden. But you don't have to. You're amazing just for trying. But you're not alone. We're all here. We all have a part to play."

The warmth of her hand, the quiet sincerity of words—it was more than Allen could bear. The tension drained from his body like mana from a spent locket. His eyes grew heavy, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep on her shoulder, the soft fabric of her jacket a welcome refuge.

Monica, watching from across the fire, felt a different kind of warmth. A pang of sadness bloomed quietly in her chest, and the soft orange glow of her locket dimmed slightly. She hugged her knees, her eyes fixed on the sleeping boy.

Miyu, ever perceptive, walked over and tugged on her sleeve. "Are you okay, Monica?" she asked, her voice small and sincere.

Monica quickly wiped a stray tear from her cheek, forcing a bright, cheerful smile. "It's nothing, Miyu."

But far above the quiet forest, in a realm of fractured light and twisted shadows, a god's laughter turned to a snarl. His form, a shifting nebula of bright cosmic light and deep, endless darkness, flickered with rage as he watched the group through a shimmering scrying pool. A faint, almost imperceptible barrier of soft moonlight shimmered around their camp, a divine blessing that kept the monstrous world at bay.

"Kon," he hissed, his voice a tremor that shook the very planes. "Still meddling with my playthings, are you?"

He watched the minor deity's blessing on the group, the reason they had so easily found a mana-rich safe zone and the trail that led them away from the most dangerous part of the orc-infested woods. His rage grew, but then he noticed something else. The blessing was weak, a temporary reprieve. It would hold for the night, but no longer.

His fury quickly subsided, replaced by a delighted, manic glee. He looked to the north, beyond the peaceful camp, to the vast, spreading orc army. He focused on one orc in particular—a hulking beast with tusks like ivory daggers and eyes that held a flicker of intelligence far too human for its monstrous form.

The orc wasn't just patrolling; it was searching, its movements deliberate and calculating. A deep, resonant mana pulsed from within it, a cold fire that seemed to make the very air tremble.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun," the god whispered, a vile, giddy smile stretching across his face.