Echoterra: Rise of the Verdant King-Chapter 55: Will of the King

The Rootsite plaza in the Forgotten Atlanta Expanse was a battlefield of thorn and spore, Verdant Bastion’s turrets looming like sentinels, venom-sap pits glinting under bioluminescent moss.

Clayton stood at the center, Regalia of the Verdant Warden in bow form, venom-sap arrow nocked, his 26 Initiate Ember Behemorph minions; 10 Thorn Hounds, 7 Howl Shriekers, 6 Ash Sprites, 3 Spore Drifters, fanned out via Aphid Network.

The Spore Plague Lord, a Luminous Seed Spore Crown Behemorph, crashed through the ruins, its 20-meter fungal mass pulsing with toxic veins, Toxic Spore Shroud choking the air, Mycotic Tendrils writhing like a plague god.

Clayton’s Heartseed Core thrummed, Genesis Threshold at 80%, his gutsy streak burning.

This was his highest-profile hunt since Echoterra, and he’d make it count.

"Welcome to my turf, mushroom," he growled, dark humor sharp, "Hope you like traps".

The Plague Lord roared, spores erupting, tendrils lashing.

Clayton’s Territorial Sentience mapped its mass, Root Web humming with Verdant Bastion’s defenses even as his brain churned.

His brain churned with ideas, street smarts flooding him with ideas on how to take down this Behemorph, a monster far stronger than he was.

’It’s not a Thorn Crown’.

’I have a chance!’

Unlike a brute-force Thorn Crown that could potentially tear down his defenses with sheer power and aggression, this Spore Crown relied on corrosion and assimilation, terrifying but vulnerable to his street smarts.

He’d neutralize its powers, turn the Rootsite into its grave.

Symbiotic Command rallied his minions. Thorn Hounds harried, spiked hides deflecting spores, while Howl Shriekers unleashed sonic pulses, disrupting the Spore Shroud.

Ash Sprites swarmed, ember bursts igniting spore clouds, Spore Drifters cloaking allies in counter-mist.

Clayton loosed arrows, Spine Bloom venom-sap searing tendrils, Bloodthorn Fang slowing their regrowth.

Verdant Bastion’s venom-sap pits triggered, tendrils dissolving in corrosive pools, while thorned turrets fired Thorncall spikes, piercing fungal flesh.

~----~

[Behemorph Damage: Spore Plague Lord – 20%]

[Minions Lost: 1 Thorn Hound, 1 Ash Sprite] ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

[Genesis Threshold: 85%]

[Aspect Strain: Moderate]

~----~

The Plague Lord bellowed, Biomass Assimilation absorbing plaza flora, regrowing tendrils.

Spores stung Clayton’s Flame-Resistant skin, Core Maw snapping to clear his lungs. He vaulted to a turret, Rootlash Dominion weaving vines to snare tendrils, Phytoleech Bloom draining fungal biomass to fuel his Verdant Lord form in the root cluster.

The Expanse quaked, sentient roots recoiling from the Lord’s corruption, Mycoglyphs dimming, the Earthcore Nexus’s hunger a ravenous pulse.

Cosmic horror gripped the air; this was no beast, but a fragment of Genesis’s wrath.

Clayton’s traps dominated.

Verdant Bastion’s Root Web guided tendrils into venom pits, Spine Bloom thorns shredding spore veins.

Howl Shriekers staggered the Lord, sonic pulses cracking its fungal shell.

Clayton’s arrows hit vital nodes, Predatory Bloom shell deflecting spore bursts. His 24 minions swarmed, relentless, their Hive-Sight feeding him angles.

DING!

~----~

[Behemorph Damage: Spore Plague Lord – 50%]

[Minions Lost: 1 Spore Drifter]

~----~

...

Ruined Tram Spire, 5 Kilometers West.

The Verdant Apostate crouched in the shadows, Echoes of Ruin cloaked, her kin; heat, cold, decay Aspects beside her.

Their reconnaissance was silent, but Clayton’s fight stunned them.

The Plague Lord was Luminous Seed, a death sentence for any Initiate Ember, no matter what affiliation or faction he/she belonged to. And yet, here they were, witnessing as Clayton’s Verdant Bastion and Aphid Network turned the behemorph into prey. Her eyes widened, spectral tendrils trembling with shock.

"He’s... winning," she hissed, malice cracking. "The Nexus empowers him!"

The heat-kin’s embers flared. "He’ll be weak after. We strike then".

Their emotional outburst; surprise, shock, rage, it all rippled. And that was a mistake.

Clayton’s Territorial Sentience, heightened by the Rootsite, pinged their presence, 5 kilometers out.

He froze, mid-arrow, Hive-Sight scanning.

And then he found them.

The Apostates were watching, waiting to pounce.

His gut churned; shaken but gutsy, as he always was, but his street smarts screamed. He was exposed, his minions dwindling, Genesis Threshold climbing.

DING!

~----~

[Genesis Threshold: 90%]

[Aspect Strain: High]

~----~

...

Rootsite Plaza.

The Plague Lord thrashed, spore cloud thinning, tendrils half-dissolved, fungal shell cracked.

Clayton’s 23 minions pressed, Thorn Hounds goring, Ash Sprites igniting.

He could kill it; Core Maw to the core, Spine Bloom to finish, but the Apostates changed everything.

Killing would leave him drained, easy prey.

Subordinating a Luminous Seed Behemorph, though?

That was insane, a battle of wills beyond Initiate Ember limits. But Clayton was no stranger to insane. He’d gamble, guts his only currency.

It was a crazy plan that he came with on the spot after discovering the Apostates and realizing how much danger he was in.

"Change of plans, big guy," he muttered, Regalia shifting to spear. "You’re joining the team".

He roared, Verdant Dominion surging, roots erupting to cloak the plaza in a dense, thorny veil, masking his intent from the Apostates.

Root Web tightened, Verdant Bastion’s traps holding the Plague Lord in venom-sap pits. His minions swarmed, weakening it further, Howl Shriekers disrupting its Spore Regalia.

Clayton leaped, Core Maw biting its fungal core, Symbiotic Command flooding its mind with Aphid Network’s will.

The Plague Lord screamed, Mycotic Tendrils lashing, spores burning Clayton’s flesh.

His Heartseed Core strained, Aspect Strain spiking, a battle of wills erupting; his Verdant Tyranny against the Lord’s primal fury.

Pain tore through him, memories of Echoterra’s trials flashing; seed-self dying, Scorchpath’s ash, his world’s collapse.

Spite kept him standing, his soul a blade.

DING!

~----~

[Subordination Attempt: Spore Plague Lord]

[Will Contest: 10% Progress]

[Genesis Threshold: 95%]

[Aspect Strain: Critical]

[System Warning: Core collapse imminent. Survival probability: 15%.]

~----~

Clayton was fed up.

This time, Clayton cursed.

’F*cking core, always at critical?!’

The root veil held, Apostates blind to his gamble.

The Plague Lord’s core pulsed, its will a tidal wave, but Clayton’s burned brighter; gutsy, defiant, a king reborn.

The battle of wills began, the Expanse holding its breath...

...

Ironhold-3 Forward Camp, 15 Kilometers South.

The Null Shrikes marched, Genesis Disruptors pulsing, nullifying Aspect connections, weakening Genesis souls within 50 meters.

Null Blades glowed, severing Genesis matter, bleeding Embers per cut. Captain Vex’s vox crackled, Ironhold-3’s orders clear: Apostates first, Green second.

The Expanse’s roots stirred, unaware of the Plague Lord’s battle, tension coiling as the Shrikes closed in.