Chris woke up the next morning with a sour taste in his mouth. The guilt hadn't vanished overnight. Instead, he suffered through nightmares of the bandit leader's last laugh, the wet crunch of bones under the strangle vines' actions playing far more gruesomely and vividly, the way they had all but purred while they tore people apart slowly. Even after waking up, he could still see it each time he blinked, bits of what happened flashing across his vision.
As he sat on the edge of the bed, properly waking up, he turned to stare at the small root of the little world tree curled on his pillow. It looked almost like it was waiting for him to say something, and something seemed to click in his mind. Not his resolve hardening further, but a heat, a warmth of something he couldn't describe igniting into a raging fire.
"I'm done trying to fit in and match the way everyone and everything is done around me," he said quietly. "They can clearly tell I'm not from this world. The entire area is screwed from growing you guys, so instead of trying to build something to match everyone else, I'll build something for myself. Make it how I want and fight against whatever comes. If it means spilling more blood, then so be it. This won't be because I'm afraid and want to just protect myself. And it's not because I want to hurt people either. It will be because this place is going to be mine, and it will be built and made my way. A real haven in this world. Not some dusty ruin where people get dumped or cast out so the empires are rid of them." His tone hardened, growing louder steadily before turning to look towards the dungeon. "And if the Barrens don't like it, they can choke on it for all I care! I will continue to grow and improve MY home."
He let the declaration sit in the air for a few moments, almost as if it was a proclamation. For the first time since waking up in this world, the idea of claiming territory, of breaking away from trying to fit in, didn't feel wrong. It felt necessary.
He stood straighter now as he grabbed the silver bamboo staff, walking out of the vine hut to set in motion the first steps in changing the world around him.
The first week passed in a blur of dirt, sweat, and quiet frustration.
The next generation of seeds grown from both his original plants and the ones they grew, besides the spike bushes, were, if he were to be honest, rather pathetic. A lot of them not even managing to take root or grow. The vines that did ended up growing to be thin and pale, barely even managing to creep across the ground before shriveling or dying from the heat. The new bamboo snapped like dry twigs, with only a fair few managing to grow correctly. Even the gympie plant's vines were droopy, with their needle tips almost smooth with how dull they were.
Chris spent hours each day in the test patch he'd marked off with stones. He talked to the plants less than before but still listened to them talk among themselves or try to motivate him, but for the most part he just worked on trying to grow more of them without needing to resort to using his special seeds or soil.
He even went so far as to use mixed cuttings from the originals, planting them together into the weak soil around the seedlings in hopes that they would either mix or somehow encourage growth. At one point he even tried using crushed shadow berry leaves and worked them into the dirt as a fertilizer, while using some of the pitcher plant's newest sap to try and get them to grow stronger, testing it first on a few of the willing spike bushes. The medical grass seemed to compliment him for his efforts, though. Each time he failed, it seemed to point something out, such as how the plants may have grown slightly better than before, or how the soil it was converting would still take a lot more time, and various other remarks, making him reconsider his opinion of the grass. It even pointed out a few he had overlooked that had survived among those that failed to grow.
The problem was that they seemed to be… different.
There was a bamboo shoot that, after he managed to clear away those that had dried or splintered, seemed to have chosen that time to rapidly sprout upward and outward. In four days, it was half as tall as the ancient ent. The first set he had planted and the ones that grew from them had long since stopped their growth, yet this one seemed to persist. Even its color seemed whiter than its silver brethren. When he tapped it with his staff, it sounded like he had hit a metal bell, sounding clear, sharp with an almost musical undertone. The original silver bamboo staff had even felt warmer when he held it near the new one, like they recognized each other, which did somewhat make him wonder how much life still existed in the one he was using.
During one of his rounds where he was clearing away beast bodies, having ordered that they be allowed to pass so the strange vines could feed, he noticed the small, tightly balled spike bushes had changed further. Three of them had clumped tightly together into a strange parody of a snowman on the third day, and on the fourth they had slowly become a dangerous ball of various angled spikes. Its growth and seed creation had turned to a crawl, but it had solid, visible changes. The thorns themselves had grown longer, taken on a black sheen, and when he tested it, he found them to be far sharper than anything the first generation had produced. When he lightly nudged it with his foot, its response was to pull tighter, its spikes almost snapping together at and around his foot before stopping as the spikes were about to lock and stab him. The originals heard commanding and yelling at them in his mind, warning them against harming their creator before they seemed to ease up and roll away from him slowly. The movement in leaving and striking were both clearly deliberate, but it was also defensive, making him wonder if he could possibly make more of them or if others could emulate this clump of thorns.
The gympie vines were what actually surprised him the most. The stems of the ones they grew still seemed sickly, but now had bright red flowers slowly opening along their lengths—the same vivid shade as the strangle vines', something the originals seemed extremely happy and proud about. Every evening the flowers seemed to unfurl and release a faint, sweet scent that made the air feel thick and heavy, but not in an unpleasant way. Rather, it seemed to cause a calming effect. Chris caught himself breathing deeper near them more than once to steady himself and calm his nerves. His mind enjoying the music the lilies and daisies would sing throughout the day, noting how their tone and spirit would change as the day went, making him wonder how they might change, noting how their seeds couldn't spread or grow beyond the initial patch he had grown.
The plants weren't the only thing that had changed either. He had as well. The constant digging, dragging stones, and practice fighting with roots from the ancient ent who had insisted he learn to defend himself and to use the staff. He wasn't that proficient yet, but could at least move his hands across it now without burning them, dropping the staff, or hitting himself. All that work and practice had even added muscle where there had been none before. His arms and shoulders filled out somewhat, and muscle had begun to fill his form. His skin had also darkened from pale white that would burn red after an hour in the sun to a deep, even bronze tan. He had also gotten his fair share of scars, thankfully cleaned and healed from the shadow vines' sap. The scars coming from trying to untangle thorn bushes when they had tangled up and accidentally scratched him, along with the various blisters and calluses from the staff practice, the scarring mostly across his palms.
It was by chance one morning when he caught his reflection in a shallow puddle the cloud tree had left behind that he noticed his own changes, almost failing to recognize himself at first. The face looking back wasn't the soft college student who'd died from burnout. Rather, the person who stared back had a harder look in their eyes with a far leaner build. More like someone who belonged in the Barrens now, or had been through a lot already. He wasn't sure how natural it was to have it happen so fast, but knew better than to question it.
The guilt still sat in his chest like a stone, but had slowly been worn away with time, much like the nightmares had. Rather than let it all weigh him down like before, he began to carry it now instead. Using it to remind himself why he couldn't stop, what not to become. The old man's dream becoming a milestone now rather than an end goal.
The second week brought more visible change to the village.
The ents had thickened into a proper defensive wall now, entirely circling the village with only the entrance being a way in. The ancient ent's seeds being passed down the line when their own seeds failed to grow. Their trunks so close now that sunlight only slipped through in thin slivers, while keeping visible and large gaps above to look out from high. Their branches low enough to make it possible, while being kept together to make a makeshift platform. That isn't to say the village had no gate. No, rather it had a living gate of woven bamboo that could swing shut on command, swinging shut when hardened and opening when softening up. Chris had tested it twice a day to make sure of it, listening to the soft metallic ring as the silver shoots locked together and the soft whoosh noise when they softened.
The cloud tree's drizzle had also steadily continued to expand. Now reaching a fair distance out, managing to make it drizzle or rain heavily in varying degrees. Its control reaching a level now that it could rain heavily outside the village and let it fall gently within. Every morning and evening it would gently begin to let the rain fall, doing its best to keep the ground soft, even managing to start turning the cracked and solidly packed sand into actual dirt patches. During the passing weeks, the medical grass had continued to spread in thick patches, calling their spread experimental to see how effective it could change other kinds of soil, while telling him the soil beneath them was now fertile enough for basic growths. Their spread slowly turning barren spots green.
The bronze bamboo tower now stood like a sentinel near the gate, thick and gleaming, while the originals kept telling him how it hoped to be used by the ancient ent. And with the way it had grown? He couldn't help but agree with that idea and encourage it. The spike-ball clusters had also slowly increased in number, a fair few now dotting the ground like living mines near the front of the village. The originals and their spawn having made way for their slower but much more deadly, if disturbed, offspring. The red-flowered gympie vines had also somehow moved from where he had planted them. When he asked about it, the plants simply told him that they wanted to move so they did, seemingly not understanding why it was an issue or problem. He easily noticed how they now climbed a section of ent wall on the outside, their blooms opening wider each night and letting their aroma fill the village.
And this was where he stood now, in the center of it all, looking over and admiring each of the plants, the changed ones and his newly changed and created village as the sun dropped low behind its impressive walls, painting everything in long orange shadows that contrasted with the green.
It was at that time the little world tree sent a root towards him, sliding easily through the top of the soil before curling lightly around his ankle. Its voice was small, almost hesitant, as it told him how it really liked the way the place had changed, all the new friends, how it started to look not like a ruin or a place in a desert with plants, but rather like a home.
Chris crouched and rested a hand on the root. The bark felt warmer than before as he smiled softly while giving his reply. "Yeah. But it's still not enough. We need to all get stronger. Have better defenses. And then there's new hybrids? Mutants? I don't know what's the best name for them really, but I don't really know how to use them. I can't even hear them like I can you and the others." He admitted softly.
The ancient ent's deep rumble rang out in his mind. Over the past few weeks he hardly spoke, but when he did, Chris learned to listen. He told him how he was still shaping his gift. That the new breeds were just a result of rapid change, trying to adapt to survive and changing in ways that would let them. That those the originals created would copy them, but the ones that came from them would need to be different to survive without his soil, but would still need to be careful with what may sprout.
Chris gave a short, dry laugh. "Careful really isn't an option anymore, big guy. But we will face whatever comes as it comes." He told it as he stood and looked at the bronze bamboo tower again. Unable to not admire how it seemed to have developed faint ripples and swirls across its form.
The female voice from the original grown spoke softly upon noticing this, telling him how he was slowly getting good at dealing with their kids and to keep pushing. That one day things would all be worth it. He just had to keep firm yet flexible enough to adapt to any change.
He turned back toward the hut as the first stars appeared in the creeping night. The village was taking shape: walls, a gate, and even patches of real soil being formed with green plants. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't welcoming yet. But it was his, and a damn big step up from the desert ruins he had first woken up in.
Tomorrow he'd try to grow another hybrid. Maybe shadow berry vines with a silver bamboo seed. Testing various plants, seeing what could work and what could survive and thrive.
As he stepped back into the hut, he easily noticed the little world tree's root already back on his pillow, seemingly waiting. Having become a near constant companion and comfort through the nights.
As he dropped onto the bed, he felt his muscles ache in a good way, and as he was lulled to sleep by the soothing song of the flowers, for the first time in weeks his sleep came without dreams of blood and crunching bones. Just quiet plans for tomorrow and what the day may bring.