The Handsome Scarecrow of Death!

"Where... am I?"

James felt like he was floating in a dream, drifting in a place that felt both distant and familiar. Everything was a haze, yet in the middle of it all, a soft, flickering image emerged, a little girl, holding a doll. She was talking, her lips moving eagerly as if she was telling him something important. But no matter how hard he strained his ears, her words were muffled, as if carried away by the wind before they could reach him.

He wanted to see her more clearly, but her face remained obscured by an ethereal fog, teasing his senses but never revealing itself. The harder he tried to focus, the blurrier she became. Time passed, though he couldn't tell how long. Seconds? Hours? All that remained was the girl's fading joy, a happiness that seemed to slip away like sand between his fingers.

Then, abruptly, she stopped. A cold wave of sadness washed over him; hers, and now his too.

And then, at last, her voice broke through the fog, clear and haunting.

"You should go... You should go back."

Her words echoed painfully in his mind. James's heart clenched with an inexplicable sorrow. Who was she? Why was she sending him away?

"Wait! Don't go!" he called, reaching out, desperate to keep her from vanishing. But the more he reached, the more distant she became. Her figure faded into the mist, until she was nothing but a memory on the edge of his consciousness.

Suddenly, a mechanical voice sliced through the fading dream:

[Host is upgrading. Time left until the evolution is complete: 00:00:06...]

The countdown began to tick away, and with each second, the dream unraveled. James blinked, trying to shake the remnants of the vision from his mind.

"Was that... a dream?" he whispered to himself, still reeling from how vivid it had felt. He could still feel the weight of her sadness, as if it had been real.

[Time left until evolution ends: 00:00:00…]

A final beep rang out, and in its wake, a flood of information rushed into his mind.

[Congratulations on the host's successful evolution. The panel is now open. Please review.]

Before his eyes, a translucent panel shimmered into view, displaying a dizzying array of data.

Host: James

Form: Death Scarecrow (0 evolution points)

Rank: F-grade inferior

Mentality: None

Growth value: 10/10,000

Talents:

- Life Desire: Ability to sense the Life force of life forms.

- Fear Devouring: Absorbs energy from fear.

- Death Scythe: Steals Life force when dealing damage with the scythe.

- Life Storage: (0/1000) Holds stolen Life force.

- Life force Purification: Doubles the growth value from absorbed Life force.

Skills:

- Fear

- Harvest of Life

- Straw Binding

Status: Severely injured (84% body damaged, 32% permanent damage).

James's eyes widened as he took it all in. His mind swirled with the new information, each line a revelation. 'Death Scarecrow? Talents? Skills?' This was no ordinary evolution; he had transformed into something far beyond human.

"This... this is insane!" His voice trembled with both awe and disbelief as he stared at the panel, his heart pounding. A part of him felt elated, powerful even, but the rest of him struggled to process the sheer weight of the transformation.

Tentatively, he closed the panel and looked down at his own body. It was unfamiliar; smaller, barely 1.7 meters tall, and a far cry from the towering five-meter scarecrow he had been. His old, tattered straw hat was gone, replaced by a flowing black cloak. His right hand, once fused with a sickle, was now a normal palm again, though covered by sleek, black leather gloves.

He flexed his fingers experimentally, marveling at the strange but natural feel of the gloves. "This... is me?" he murmured, running his hands over the cloak that draped his slender, straw body.

For a moment, James couldn't help but admire his new form. The black cloak billowed gently as if alive, and his gloves gave him an almost regal air.

"Not bad," he muttered, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "I have to admit, I look... kind of handsome."

Inside the protective cocoon that surrounded him, he felt a surge of excitement. This was only the beginning. Whatever path lay ahead, he had been reborn, not as the James of old, but as something far more powerful, more dangerous.

And the world would soon know it too.

"Wait a second... am I forgetting something? Or someone?" James paused mid-thought, the image of a chattering little girl suddenly flashing in his mind. A wave of guilt washed over him. 'That girl... again.' He couldn't help but feel like he'd left something unresolved.

"Ah well, it's time to get going," he muttered to himself. "We've already wasted enough time. That guy's probably losing his patience by now."

With a casual flick of his wrist, James stretched out his right hand, and in a flash, a silver-black sickle, nearly two meters long, materialized in his grasp. The blade shimmered, cold and lethal, with an uneven surface that added to its menacing appearance.

"Wow..." He grinned, admiring the weapon. "This is seriously badass."

The weight of the sickle felt so natural in his hand, as though it was simply an extension of his arm. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation. He spun it once in the air, the blade slicing through the space with a deadly hum, before lightly tapping the edge against the cocoon that surrounded him. With the slightest effort, the sickle tore a large opening, and James stepped out, carrying the weapon as if it were part of him.

His eyes adjusted to the dim light outside, and there, not far from him, sat a slender figure. It was Laura, slumped on the ground, exhausted. Around her lay the broken, bloodied bodies of a dozen creatures; each one a different species, all dead.

"You've done quite a number here," James remarked as he approached, his voice calm but filled with appreciation. He could see the weariness etched on Laura's face. Despite the carnage, she looked utterly drained. "Thank you."

Laura looked up slowly, her eyes bloodshot from battle and fatigue. She stared at him for a long time, her expression one of disbelief. "Are... are you James?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You look so different... I can barely recognize you. But that voice... that's the only thing that's the same. If it had changed too, I swear, I would've cut you down on the spot."

James laughed, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "What do you think, about this uncle? Pretty handsome, huh?"

Laura's face twitched, barely suppressing a sarcastic grin. She gestured weakly at the alien corpses strewn around them. "Handsome? Where do you get that confidence from? If I had known you'd turn into 'this', I wouldn't have stuck around for three days waiting. I would've let those things eat you."

James's expression turned momentarily serious, though a small smirk lingered on his lips. "Come on, I think it's pretty cool."

Laura rolled her eyes but quickly shifted back to a darker tone. "We need to get my storage bag back... I won't let that guy off easily. I swear... I'll... ah!"

The memory of what happened in the cave flashed through her mind, reigniting her fury. She tried to stand but stumbled, her body betraying her. Without thinking, James lunged forward and caught her before she hit the ground. Her body felt limp in his arms, soft and boneless as if all her strength had been drained.

"I'm... starving... and thirsty," Laura whispered, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz. "The food... it's in my bag... but I'm so sleepy. Can you... please get it back for me?"

James's eyes softened. For a moment, he forgot that Laura, no matter how strong she appeared, was still human—unlike him. She needed food, water, and rest, while he could go on without those things, a strange, unnatural creature.

"Don't worry," he said gently, lifting her small frame onto his shoulder with ease. "When you wake up, I'll make sure your storage bag is back in your hands."

As he hoisted her up, Laura stirred slightly, her face brushing against the cold metal of his sickle. In her half-dazed state, she touched it with her fingers and let out a half-hearted complaint. "Your sickle's really cool... but I'm still a girl, you know! And you just throw me over your shoulder... with a blade right next to my face! What if you cut me?!"

James froze mid-step, stunned. "Uh..." He hadn't considered that. "Yeah, that's... actually a good point. My bad."

With an apologetic smile, he made the sickle vanish as quickly as it had appeared, carefully adjusting Laura on his back so she was more comfortable.

Laura gave him a weary, exasperated look but said nothing, too tired to argue. As they made their way forward, a small, incoherent muttering escaped her lips, followed by a soft snore.

James shook his head with a sigh. 'This girl... even when she's half-dead, she's got a lot to say.'

He carried her carefully as they moved forward, each step taking them further from the chaos and closer to the unknown path that awaited them.