Reincarnated as a Carnivorous Plant

The golden sun was deep high in the sky, casting its shimmering rays through the forest canopy.

The hum of buzzing insects filled the air once again, weaving a chaotic symphony above the field of carnivorous plants.

Haeto, rooted firmly in the soil, stood silent, his senses sharp and focused.

Though he lacked eyes, his awareness seemed heightened, and today, his attention remained glued to the small carnivorous plant that had inexplicably dominated the competition yesterday.

Hours passed, and the strange plant, once the source of Haeto's burning jealousy, now seemed eerily subdued.

It barely caught anything.

Its crimson tongue swayed lazily, releasing puffs of sweet pollen into the air, but it failed to draw the same attention it had the day before.

This puzzled Haeto deeply.

The plant had been unstoppable yesterday, devouring insect after insect with a voracious appetite. But now, it was nearly as pitiful as him, struggling to capture even a single fly.

Haeto's thoughts churned as he tried to make sense of the change.

Was it a fluke?

A stroke of bad luck?

Or was there something else at play?

Haeto's gaze shifted to the rest of the field. His unease deepened as he observed the other carnivorous plants.

The massive one, with its imposing size and perfect position near the clearing, was faring well as expected, its maw snapping shut over hapless insects with rhythmic precision.

But then Haeto's attention drifted to a smaller, seemingly unremarkable plant nearby.

This plant had started to draw a surprising amount of attention.

Its tongue swayed just as lazily as the others.

Its pollen seemed no different from the rest.

Yet, for some reason, it was attracting a steady stream of buzzing insects, their iridescent wings flashing in the sunlight as they descended toward its waiting maw.

Haeto's thoughts spun wildly.

Was it luck?

Was it simply this plant's turn to be favored by the whims of nature?

Or was there something else, some hidden factor that determined which plants thrive and which were left to starve?

He strained to observe the unremarkable plant more closely, his stalk trembling with anticipation.

For hours, he watched, waiting for a pattern to emerge, for some clue to reveal itself.

The sun climbed higher, its heat pressing down on the forest, and still, Haeto studied every detail, every movement, every subtle shift.

And then, it happened.

Like a scene unfolding in slow motion, Haeto noticed a small group of buzzing flies descending from the canopy above.

Their movements were erratic, darting this way and that, their wings producing a faint, almost hypnotic hum.

Haeto held his breath—or he would have, if he had lungs—as he watched their approach.

At first, it seemed as though they were heading for the smaller plant with the swaying tongue.

The crimson-red organ stood tall, exuding its sugary-sweet allure, and the buzzing insects circled above it, drawn by its tempting scent.

But then, at the last moment, something strange happened.

The insects veered away.

They bypassed the swaying tongue entirely, their tiny bodies buzzing with energy as they landed not on the plant itself, but on the ground beside it.

Haeto's plant body quivered, a strange, instinctive tremor running through his leaves and stalk.

This was it.

This was the key.

The insects weren't drawn solely to the plant itself—they were responding to something else entirely.

He sharpened his focus, scanning the area around the successful plant. And then, he saw it.

Tiny pieces of decayed insects littered the ground, scattered around the base of the plant like a macabre offering.

The remains of yesterday's feast had fallen from its maw, the discarded legs and wings of its prey creating a faint scent of decay that blended with the sugary pollen in the air.

The flies weren't coming for the plant—they were coming for the remnants of its past meals.

The aroma of decay, subtle and sickly-sweet, was drawing them in, guiding them to their doom.

Haeto's realization struck his plant head like a ball of basketball and it bounced with a boink of understanding.

This was the secret.

This was the advantage that the smaller plant had wielded so effectively yesterday.

The remains of its victims had created a secondary lure, a hidden layer of attraction that amplified its ability to draw insects.

His thoughts raced as he pieced everything together.

The carnivorous plant's success wasn't just about size, or position, or even the sweetness of its pollen.

It was about creating an ecosystem of temptation.

By letting the remnants of its prey fall to the ground, it had turned itself into a beacon for scavengers, drawing in not just insects, but the smaller creatures that feed on decay.

Haeto's plant body with an unexplainable excitement.

If that was the key, then he could replicate it.

He could create his own lure, his own ecosystem of temptation.

The question was how.

He couldn't rely on past victims—he hadn't caught enough to leave behind a meaningful scent. But perhaps there was another way.

Perhaps he could trick the insects.

A plan began to form in Haeto's mind, a daring and dangerous idea that might just give him the edge he needed.

He would mimic the scent of decay, releasing a faint, sour-sweet aroma into the air.

He would create the illusion of a feast, drawing the insects toward him even though there was nothing there.

It would be risky, and he didn't know if it would work. But he had no choice.

With the system's timer ticking down, failure was not an option.

Haeto's plant body stiffened, no! He shouldn't do that, let it be natural!

Yes, let it be natural!

Soon, the forest buzzed with the hum of countless insects, their delicate wings vibrating in an unseen rhythm as the warm morning sun painted the greenery in soft gold.

Haeto stood silent and still, his crimson tongue swaying gently in the breeze.

He was focused, his nonexistent eyes locked on the prey that flitted tantalizingly close to his trap.

The first insect was small but fast, its iridescent body catching the light as it hovered near Haeto's tongue.

He felt an instinctive urge to snap his jaws shut, to claim the creature in one swift, violent motion. But he held back. Not yet, he thought.

This time, he had to be precise.

He needed to leave something behind, to mimic the strategy of the successful plants.

The fly danced closer, its tiny legs brushing against the edge of Haeto's tongue.

Every nerve in his plant body screamed at him to strike.

His instincts were nearly uncontrollable, urging him to devour the creature whole. But he resisted, his mind had a constant chant of restraint.

Just chomp it lightly.

Don't eat it all.

Just chomp it lightly.

Yes, just do it lightly.

The tension intensified as the insect crawled further onto his tongue.

Haeto could feel its weight, its tiny movements tickling his sensitive surface. His jaws quivered with anticipation, his entire being trembling under the strain of holding back.

And then—he snapped.

CHOMP!

The jaws closed with a resounding crunch, the sound echoing in his mind like a deafening gong.

Haeto's heart—if he had one—sank as he realized he had failed.

The fly was gone, swallowed whole, its sweet and sour essence dissolving into his system.

"Damn it!" Haeto roared internally, his frustration palpable.

He had been too eager, too impatient.

His instincts had betrayed him.

But he refused to give up.

Moments later, another insect approached, its metallic green body glinting in the sunlight.

Haeto steeled himself, his tongue swaying in slow, deliberate movements.

This time, he told himself, he would succeed.

This time, he would leave a piece behind.

The fly hovered cautiously, its wings buzzing as it tested the air around Haeto.

He remained perfectly still, his focus remained razor-sharp.

Slowly, agonizingly, the insect landed on the edge of his tongue.

Haeto felt the familiar surge of instinct, the primal urge to crush and consume. His jaws trembled, his body trembling under the strain of resisting the urge to snap.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Just a little longer.

The fly began to crawl further in, its tiny legs sending shivers through Haeto's tongue.

His mind screamed with conflicting thoughts.

Hold back!

Don't snap!

Just chomp it lightly!

But the pressure was too much.

CHOMP!

Once again, his jaws slammed shut with a thunderous crunch, and that's it—the fly was gone.

Haeto's frustration boiled over, his plant body trembling with rage.

"Why?! Why can't I stop myself?!" he bellowed internally. He cursed his carnivorous plant instincts, his inexperience as a plant body, his weakness. But he refused to let despair take hold of his head.

He would try again.

The sun climbed higher in the sky as Haeto waited, his resolve hardening with each passing moment.

Finally, a third insect appeared, its delicate blue wings glinting like sapphires.

Haeto prepared himself, his tongue swaying in a hypnotic rhythm.

The fly buzzed closer, its movements cautious yet curious.

Haeto held his breath—metaphorically, of course—as the insect landed softly on his tongue.

Stay calm.

Don't chomp too hard.

Don't let your instincts win.

The fly began to crawl, its tiny legs sending faint, ticklish sensations through Haeto's body.

His jaws trembled, his instincts screaming for release. But this time, he held firm.

He focused on his goal, on the plan he had formed.

Just like whenever he hunts his target to kill back on Earth.

He needed to focus!

The fly reached the center of his tongue, and Haeto knew it was time.

Slowly, carefully, he closed his jaws.

His movements were slow, but his focus was controlled.

He felt the resistance of the insect's body, its fragile frame trapped between his teeth.

Just half. Just half.

CHOMP!

The sound of the bite was sharp and decisive, but this time, it wasn't a complete crunch.

Haeto opened his jaws slightly, his body trembling with what he would see next.

Half of the insect's body remained on his tongue, twitching weakly, while the other half fell to the ground beside him with a faint plop.

The scent of its ruptured abdomen filled the air, a pungent mix of sweetness and decay.

Haeto froze for a moment, stunned by his success.

"I did it," he whispered, his plant body quivering with a mix of relief and triumph. "I actually did it!"

This was the key.

"Yes!" Haeto shouted internally, his excitement bubbling over. "Finally, I've done it! The bait is set! The plan is in motion!"

His triumphant mood was short-lived, though, as his giddy celebration gave way to a darker, more menacing glint in his thoughts.

His cheerful exclamations softened into a dangerous whisper.

"Finally," he murmured, his tone dripping with quiet menace. "I only need to wait!"