Echoterra: Rise of the Verdant King
Chapter 43: Thorns cut deeper

Chapter 43: Thorns cut deeper

DING!

~----~

[Genesis Threshold: 85%]

[Aspect Strain: Moderate]

[System Note: Anti-Genesis suppression detected. Rootlash efficiency reduced by 20%.]

~----~

Clayton cursed under his breath. "Of course you’ve got toys to screw with my toys".

His mind raced, survival instincts kicking in.

They had tech, numbers, and a Luminous Seed rank leader. He had the terrain and a head start. This wasn’t a brawl; it was a chess game, and he’d just taken their pawns.

He slipped deeper into the ruins, roots masking his movements, baiting them into his trap.

The Ironblood were unified, sure, but he’d caught the leader’s hesitation, a glance toward the pinned soldier, a split-second pause.

Not all of them were as bloodthirsty as their mission.

Good. Dissent was a crack he could exploit.

The fight was far from over. And he wasn’t running, not yet.

...

Clayton slipped through the ruins like a ghost, the Forgotten Atlanta Expanse bending to his will.

The Ironblood’s plasma lances carved glowing scars across the alley, but he was already gone, roots masking his footsteps.

His Mycoglyph gauntlet pulsed, syncing with the Regalia of the Verdant Warden, its spear form itching to shift. The soul pressure from the five signatures; four Initiate Ember grunts and their Luminous Seed leader tightened like a noose.

They were hunting him, but Clayton Hunt didn’t get hunted. Not in the Scorchpath, not in Echoterra, and sure as hell not here.

"Five on one," he muttered, crouching behind a fossilized tram overgrown with Genesis vines. "Fair odds for me".

His smirk was all teeth, dark humor keeping the adrenaline in check.

The Expanse’s roots whispered beneath him, alive with Sovereign Bloom, ready to turn this graveyard into a slaughterhouse.

He’d baited them into the alley, a choke point of crumbled concrete and thorned biomass.

The Ironblood were tech-heavy, their exosuits clanking with plasma lances and Genesis Suppressors, but they didn’t know the terrain like he did.

Clayton’s eyes flicked to a shattered building overhead, its steel beams laced with dormant vines. Perfect.

He pressed his palm to the ground, Rootlash Dominion surging. The earth trembled as roots snaked upward, weaving into a sentient net of thorns and vines, suspended across the alley’s mouth like a spider’s web.

Not to kill, yet. To trap.

"Omicron Cell, tighten formation!" The Luminous Seed leader’s vox crackled, his black alloy suit glinting as he advanced. "It’s close. Suppressors at max".

Clayton’s smirk faded. Those suppressors were a problem. Their last pulse had shriveled his vines, sent a spike of pain through his Heartseed Core. He couldn’t let them control the tempo. Time to change the board.

’Thorncall’.

The vine-net collapsed, a cascade of spiked biomass crashing onto the two rearmost soldiers.

One screamed as thorns pierced his exosuit, pinning him to the ground. The other fired wildly, plasma scorching the air, but Clayton was already moving, vaulting onto a rusted girder. His Regalia shimmered, folding into its bow form.

He loosed a bone arrow laced with chloroplasmic venom straight at the pinned soldier’s chest.

It punched through, roots blooming inside, silencing the screams.

The second soldier scrambled free, but Clayton’s vines were faster, coiling around his legs and dragging him into a crater.

DING!

~----~

[Target Eliminated: Initiate Ember Soldier]

[Genesis Embers Acquired: 3]

[Aspect: None]

~----~

For a moment, Clayton froze, his breath hitching.

He just killed a human.

Of course, as an outskirts rat in the Scorchpath, this was not his first murder. But still, then it was an accidental murder, not this; not intended murder like what just happened.

For a moment, Clayton felt something tighten in his heart but he strangled it immediately. He still had a battle to fight.

"One down," Clayton muttered, strangling the remnants of hesitation that lingered in his mind. "Four to go".

The remaining Ironblood were stunned, but they reacted fast.

Plasma lances roared violently, carving through his vine-net, and a suppressor pulse hit, making his roots seize like a clenched fist.

Pain flared in his chest, his Genesis Threshold spiking.

DING!

~----~

[Genesis Threshold: 88%]

[Aspect Strain: High]

[System Note: Genesis Suppressor interference detected. Rootlash efficiency reduced by 25%.]

~----~

"Son of a...," Clayton bit off the curse, rolling behind a concrete slab as a plasma beam scorched his shoulder.

His bark armor flaked, skin blistering beneath. Moderate damage, but it hurt like hell. He growled.

The Luminous Seed leader was the problem; too fast, too precise, his glowing core pulsing with power that felt almost... Genesis-like. Hypocrites.

By now, he already observed enough to tell certain truths about this group. He could already tell that the scout who found him was not here.

’They’re a faction, right?’

’Is this what humanity has dissolved into? Factions?’ He thought.

Clayton was not sure, but he was pretty sure that this was one of the surviving factions of humanity, maybe a splinter group of them. And this specific faction, their fight was clearly to reclaim old-world tech and maybe burn out root infestations too.

That would explain why they did not even try to speak or reason with him, but moved to eliminate him immediately.

Clearly, they hated the Genesis Protocols and everything that came with it. ’Is that why they don’t have Aspects?’

’They most likely Awakened without entering a Genesis trial’.

’Or maybe they’re not even Awakened’.

By now, he would be a fool if he didn’t realize their lack of Aspects.

"Spread out!" The leader barked. "It’s using the terrain. Flush it!"

Clayton’s eyes narrowed. "Flush this!" He slammed his hand to the ground, channeling Rootlash Dominion deeper.

The alley’s walls groaned as roots erupted, collapsing a steel beam onto the squad’s right flank. A soldier, a woman, her exosuit patched with scavenged steel dodged late, her arm crushed under the debris.

She cursed, loud and human, not vox-distorted.

"Rhea, hold position!" A younger soldier shouted, breaking formation to help her. Clayton marked him instantly; too emotional, too green.

The crack he’d been waiting for.

He was ruthless.

He loosed another arrow, aiming for the rookie.

It grazed his thigh, roots sprouting to bind him. But the Luminous Seed leader was on him, his rifle spitting plasma. Clayton dove, the beam singeing his hair; bioluminescent roots now smoking.

He growled, pain fueling his focus.

"Kid’s got heart," he muttered. "Bad for him".

He triggered Thorncall again, vines lashing from the ground to entangle the rookie and Rhea. The rookie froze, eyes wide through his visor, hesitating as his lance wavered.

"Shoot, damn it!" Rhea snarled, struggling under the debris.

The rookie didn’t. Clayton saw it; doubt, a flicker of something human. Not zeal. Not like the leader who charged through the chaos, his core glowing brighter, a suppressor pulse rippling outward.

BZZZ!

Clayton’s vines withered, his Heartseed Core screaming.

~----~

[WARNING!]

[Genesis Threshold: 90%]

[Aspect Strain: Critical]

[System Warning: Cease high-intensity Genesis use or risk core destabilization.]

~----~

Clayton gritted his teeth, blood trickling from his burned shoulder.

He wasn’t winning this yet, not with suppressors screwing his powers and a Luminous Seed bastard outpacing him. But he wasn’t done.

The Expanse was his. This was his spawn point after the brutal crucible that forged him called Echoterra.

He slipped into the shadows, roots masking his retreat once again, baiting them deeper into his terrain. They could not control the battlefield like he could, so they could not stop him from retreating.

This fight was a marathon, not a sprint.

And this time, Clayton was ready to dig in and play the long game.

But things don’t always go as planned.

...

[I’m back again guys, thanks for reading. Tomorrow, if things go according to plan, I may upgrade to 2 Chapters per day.]