Echoterra: Rise of the Verdant King-Chapter 38: The roots remember

The city had stopped pretending it was a city.

Walking through it, still dealing with his disorientation, Clayton struggled to accept the fact that he was back to Earth.

His whole being still coiled with tension like he was in Echoterra, like some unknown beast or plantoid existence would erupt the next moment to prey on him and his territory.

After surviving in that fierce crucible for so long, being alert was instinct now.

Clayton didn’t know what to believe. On one hand, he should feel relief that he was now home. He should try to relax, release the tension... and yet, he didn’t feel like it.

Earth... was not what he remembered anymore.

He still couldn’t accept it.

’This is Atlanta?’

You couldn’t blame his instincts for firing still. After all, last Clayton remembered, all he had to deal with back on Earth was hunger and people, he never had to kill centipedes as big as a van on the streets.

He was home now, but home felt alien to him.

Clayton didn’t know how to feel, he knew close to nothing.

Did the worse happen? Was this all that remained of humanity? Was he the last human on Earth after it was ravaged by the Genesis Protocols?

What even is the Genesis Protocols? He still had no clue.

Besides, how long did he spend in Echoterra as a seed? While he fought for survival in that fierce demented world, how long passed on Earth?

What day was it?

Of course, Clayton had no answers to his questions, and so he kept on walking.

After an hour of walking, Clayton found himself where buildings no longer stood. They slumped. Concrete collapsed like tired lungs. Steel bones jutted from fractured avenues, cradled by vines thick as human torsos.

The skyline had melted into the wilderness, every urban shape distorted by the patient hunger of growth.

The air here was quiet. Still. And not the peaceful kind.

It was the silence of watching.

He paused at the edge of what might have once been a university quad, now a basin of ruin. In its center, a tree had devoured the foundations. No, become them. It’s roots laced through buildings like muscle through bone.

Its trunk soared dozens of meters skyward, splitting into a canopy that blanketed the broken skyline.

And it glowed.

Not brightly. But subtly, veins of pulsing bioluminescence traced its bark. The same hue as his veins.

His breath caught.

Something in that tree called to him.

He approached carefully, hand brushing the hilt-form of his Regalia. The massive roots responded, gently shifting, retracting; not threatening, but beckoning. They knew him. His blood. His aspect.

Clayton placed his palm against the bark, and then...

DING!

~----~

[Verdant Reign Available.]

[Local Biomass: EXTREME DENSITY.]

[Compatible Node Detected: GENESIS ARCHIVE SIGMA-4]

~----~

His pulse kicked.

He didn’t know what this was, but acting on instinct, he muttered.

"Activate".

The roots parted like curtain folds, revealing a narrow opening at the tree’s base. Inside was darkness, and then light, flickering like a dying candle.

The steps downward weren’t made of wood or stone. They were made of memory.

Clayton descended.

The chamber was half-submerged in root systems, half-exposed steel, half-fossilized circuitry. He stood inside what looked like the shattered remains of a subterranean data vault, covered in moss and ghost-code.

Screens blinked. Some broken. One whole.

A preserved server-core blinked a weak, flickering green.

Then it spoke.

"Verdant Key confirmed... Welcome, Warden-Class Hot... Identity Match: CLAYTON HUNT..."

"Warning: Temporal Discontinuity Detected".

"Time since departure: 312 years".

"Estimated Current Date: Earth Standard- April 8th, 2843 A.D".

"Accessing archival logs..."

Silence.

Clayton didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Three hundred and twelve years?!

He froze, feeling like he was dreaming; like he was stuck in a nightmare, drowning with the weight of truth.

’No’.

’No, no, no!’

He stepped closer. The screen shimmered. Images scrolled. Documents, old footage, names, announcements.

The world had ended.

Not with fire. But with unraveling.

Global collapse. Mass Genesis awakenings. The Trial Protocols going active. Humanity fracturing into techno-tribes and ascended war bloodlines. Cities torn from Earth’s surface and reformed into biomechanical citadels.

Oceans drained, skies replaced with artificial dusk. The natural order rewritten by wild Aspects, out of control.

"GENESIS PROTOCOLS: PHASE ONE – INITIATION".

"PHASE TWO – THE GREAT SLEEP".

"PHASE THREE – EARTHFALL".

"PHASE FOUR... INCOMPLETE".

He stepped backward, but the feed kept going.

One last video queued itself. Autoplayed.

A woman stood in front of a battered podium. Her face was gaunt. Tired. The symbol of the United Earth Congress behind her was cracked in half.

Sirens echoed faintly in the background. The feed was shaky, half-corrupted.

Bzzz!

"This message is for any returning Genesis Hosts. If you’re seeing this... you’ve come back".

"You weren’t supposed to".

"Echoterra was meant to be the solution. The solution of the Gods".

"We accepted their goodwill".

"We sent you to another world so this one might survive".

"But if you’re here now... then the Trials have failed".

"And so have we".

The video cut.

Static filled the screen.

Clayton stood in the flickering dark.

He should’ve felt rage.

Or grief.

Or maybe numbness.

But instead, something else bloomed.

Not spite this time. But resolve.

"So... that’s how it is," he whispered.

His world was dead. The old Earth was a myth, buried under vines and time and silence. And he, Clayton Hunt, Verdant Warden, wasn’t just a survivor anymore.

He was a relic.

The last ember of a time long extinguished.

And he had work to do.

’I guess I’m 330 years old now,’ he thought silently, different thoughts swirling through his mind.

He looked forward, far beyond the ruins, thinking. ’I wonder what the current state of the world is’.

His thought process was interrupted again.

DING!

~----~

[Soul State: Germinal Bloom – Progress: 3%]

[System Note: Emotional integration accelerates growth. User Adaptation Confirmed.]

~----~

He exhaled.

Left the ruins.

And stepped once more into the light.

Toward the new world.

Not to find answers.

But to plant new ones.

[Feeling Mischievous: The North Remembers. Ok, be sincere, did any of you predict this? 312 years is a lot. What do you think?]

[Please support with your power stones. Also, a review will really make me happy.]

[Also, thanks to GoodMorning2U2. That review made my day man, you motivated me to publish this Chapter now since I had such a stressful day. I’ll try to be more consistent with updates and write more, just be patient with me.]