The staff sunk deeply, smoothly as it impacted into the ground next to the pain-filled figure. He couldn't do it. No matter how he tried to convince himself, no matter how he tried to justify it, he just couldn't do it. He couldn't kill.
The plants quickly showed him that he didn't have to. The strangle vines rapidly dragging a few over, crushing a few with precision and speed, having the blood shower their bases while steadily pulling others apart with painfully slow care that made his stomach turn. Hearing their silky voices all but purred while killing them, reveling in the pain they were causing.
He watched the rest slowly still; their screams growing quiet as the shadow berries told him they had fixed things for him. But that didn't make him feel any better. Instead, he actually began to feel worse. He didn't look away from any of it. He refused to do so. This was caused and done by him and his actions, his lack of resolve in killing them.
"I should have just killed them…" he said out loud. The words came out flat. No drama. Just fact. "It would have been far more painless than this…" He continued regardless of the other plants trying to say the opposite, listening to the sounds of their bodies crunch now as the vines began to constrict them into meaty pulps before dragging the mass into the ground, making him throw up.
The ancient ent's voice rolled through his head, low and steady. Its words trying to make him see things differently, telling him that they were meant to protect him while he was meant to guide them. These people came to take his sanctuary, and what he did was stop them.
Straightening up, Chris nodded once in acceptance as he wiped his mouth, before settling into a frown while looking down at the bandit leader. The man's head was caved in on one side. That last laugh was still stuck in Chris's ears, the way the guy had grinned even while the needle vine was punching repeatedly into his chest. Chris had felt something when that happened. Not guilt. Not exactly. Something closer to satisfaction and actual joy. And that bothered him more than the deaths did.
The little world tree sent a thin root sliding across the ground and curled it around his ankle, light as a kid grabbing a sleeve. Its voice was small and careful. Its little voice trying to reassure him by telling him to focus on being a life giver, to let them be the ones who end life.
Chris crouched down and put one hand on the root. The bark felt warm. "You all shouldn't have to be burdened like that. I chose to walk out and confront them. I told the bamboo to strike and all but caused all of what followed... I could've just stayed inside the hut and let you all handle it, or even ordered to cripple and restrain rather than…." He paused while standing back up, looking around at the range of plants, from the various creepers to the solid ents.
The strangle vines were already moving again. Thick green coils sliding over to the rest of the corpses, wrapping around chests and legs, then dragging them to their base while draining them with sickening efficiency. Except for Walter and the bandit leader who were instead tossed over towards the entrance of the village where the ent lifted them up into the air. Every so often one of the vines would squeeze a little harder than needed while collecting the remaining bodies. Chris couldn't help but feel their satisfaction hit him in the back of the head, sharp and eager. He didn't say anything about it. Instead choosing to go over to the thrown pair.
The spike bushes had already started digging. Their thorns scraped through the sand, throwing up small clouds of dust as they carved out shallow graves. They weren't gentle about it. One bush kept stabbing the same spot over and over, like it was still angry.
The pitcher plant sat there full and heavy, its rim glistening. It gurgled once, low and hopeful as it seemed to notice them, asking him softly if it should try to take care of them for him, only for Chris to shake his head. "No. I already have those two with a hunger for meat and blood. I would prefer you not follow their example. Instead, I'd much rather have you keep being a fluid maker for me." The plant made a confused bubbling sound, asking him why the vines made such a big thing of it then if they weren't enjoyable, but stayed quiet after he told it that they were just different.
He soon dragged Walter's body to the makeshift grave. The man's face twisted in the same greedy sneer he'd worn yesterday, except tainted with fear and pain. His throat visibly swollen up. The newly grown gympie plant proudly telling him how it 'practiced' on the bad man like the strangle vines had told it to do. Chris tried his best to ignore the way they seemed to be wanting praise for it, instead simply telling them to keep practicing and how they would need to see if they could make it so they crippled or disabled the enemies temporarily rather than permanently as he dropped Walter's body onto the bandit leader's own with a dull thud.
As the hours passed and he had done what he could to ensure the wind wouldn't carry the smell to possible beasts, he walked over to the ancient ent and sat down on one of its thick roots it had raised for him. The cloud tree, under his urging, had begun to drizzle over the entire village. Its range now able to reach just outside the village and having begun to control the rain's intensity. It would be enough to rinse the worst of the blood off his hands, along with hopefully causing the blood to sink into the soil and mask its smell.
He drank from the bowl the cloud tree had already filled earlier before crushing some berries and adding them to it, hoping it could settle him ever so slightly.
The soft voice of the female bamboo disturbed him from his thoughts, telling him that he swung better than he possibly knew and should be able to protect himself with his new companion.
He didn't do much other than stare at the entrance after that, listening to the various plants talk and celebrate the victory. Watching as a handful of new bamboo vines slowly spread between the spaces between the wall ents, crisscrossing to cover and fill the gap between the ent trees like a living binding, while the ents lightly brushed them with their branches. Oddly, he couldn't seem to hear them like he could the ancient ent. He couldn't hear any of the second-generation plants now that he properly thought of it.
He was broken from those thoughts when he noticed the thickest of the newly grown bamboo shafts take on a more silver-like sheen, its tip far more razor sharp. Shaking his head and convincing himself it was a trick of the light, he turned his gaze onto the slowly growing village, hoping it would further distract him from the guilt and other harsh feelings budding in his chest.
This wasn't just a few huts in a dusty area anymore. In the short time it had been since he got here, he could see the difference. It looked like the start of something that could keep people out while keeping those inside safe. He wasn't quite sure which one he wanted yet, though.
A low rumble rolled out from the dungeon direction. Something big was shifting in the dark, and he wasn't sure if it was just dungeon noise or a new beast stirring in the dark. Chris didn't flinch, though. Instead, he softly rested a hand on the ancient ent's root as he turned to face it.
He heard the little world tree tell him to not let whatever happens bother him, that it and the rest would protect him and their home. His duty was to grow and breathe life back into the world, to trust them to be those who end it to preserve it. All but managing to picture it rustling its leaves, trying to be fierce and protective. Notes of subtle jealousy easily heard when the gympie plant all but joyfully shouted their agreement, promising to learn better control to make their 'daddy' proud.
Shaking his head and failing to keep the small smile from his face, he steadily pushed himself up. His legs felt like lead and the unease still sitting in his gut. But either due to the various plants or just slowly coming to grips with all that happened, he somehow felt a bit lighter. The guilt, unease, and self-loathing seemed to lessen. It could have been the berries he had added to his water, though. Either way, he was grateful for it.
He finally turned his gaze away from the half-finished wall of ents and bamboo to the cloud tree and the medical grass that had steadily spread across the ground, not once having heard it, making him wonder if his rush to grow the other plants had offended it. When he finally asked them about it, questioning it, he was met with silence. When he pressed, it finally, with a somewhat bored but condescending tone, said that it was busy working on the soil and trying to create counters for its various 'compatriots' fluids and needles, and he was disturbing it. That it didn't want to waste time with conversations when there were far more interesting problems to focus on. Causing Chris to apologize and leave it be. Muttering softly under his breath about having grown grass with a dick personality.
Shaking his head, he looked back towards the entrance, plans forming in his mind. "Today we rest a bit. We've been through enough for one day." He told them all. "Practice, talk, spread within limits, or just practice. The rest of the day you're free to do as you like. Tomorrow we will properly be planning how to handle future threats better, how to try and avoid a repeat of today." The final words catching a bit in his throat, but the way they seemed to cheer and laugh happily told him it didn't matter.
The constrictor vines sent a wave of excitement that made Chris's scalp tingle. The shadow berries stayed quiet, but he felt their approval like a cool hand on the back of his neck. The spike bushes rattled their thorns once, sharp and quick, before seemingly clumping further together while spreading further steadily, clearly now trying to compete with the bamboo.
He allowed himself one small, tired breath that almost looked like a smirk at that.
"I won't just be trying to stay alive anymore," he said as he started walking back toward the vine-covered hut. "No more living in the ruins of the old. From tomorrow onward, we will start building something new."
The plants didn't answer out loud. They didn't need to. He could feel them already moving behind him, roots shifting, vines stretching, new shoots pushing up through the sand. The first real signs that this patch of nothing in the Barrens might actually become a place worth holding on to.
Inside the hut, the little world tree had left one small root curled on his pillow like it was waiting for him. Chris dropped onto the bed, not bothering to question it but rather grateful for the attempt to show him comfort. And now, for the first time since the old man died, everything seemed a bit brighter, like the future wouldn't be so bad.
Tomorrow they would make the walls stronger. Tomorrow would mark the start of his green village. And if anyone else showed up looking for trouble? He took a slow, deep breath to try and harden his resolve. If trouble came, they would meet the same fate as the bandits who came today. He could be soft, but only to those who mattered to him, to those who deserved it.
The Barrens were changing.
And without realizing it, or perhaps not wanting to see it, so was he.