The next morning started out normal. Chris stepped out of the hut into the usual light mist from the cloud tree. The village looked almost peaceful under the pale dawn light, with the Ent wall solid and tall and the bronze bamboo tower standing tall near the gate, its top faintly visible over the walls. He could tell, even without hearing it, that it was excitedly waiting for its turn to be wielded, with various spike-ball clusters dotting around the perimeter. The red-flowered gympie vines having moved further out, now clinging to the outer wall with their blooms closed tight.
He stretched, feeling a new ache in his shoulders from yesterday's staff drills with the ancient Ent's roots but finding it growing less and less each day. The tan on his arms seemed to have deepened another shade overnight, with almost invisible grooves that looked like bark, quickly explained away as just the light playing tricks, as he didn't notice it again when he tried looking closer. Either way, he looked a lot more like someone who had survived and thrived in a harsh world now compared to the soft young man he was before.
The guilt from the old man and the raid did still linger in his chest, a dull weight that had lightened a whole lot and a faint feeling now compared to how it was before. It pushed him to keep moving forward, to try and never have to experience it again.
He walked toward the hybrid patch first, same routine as the last two weeks. Checking the new shoots to see what took or did not take well, pulling out and clearing the dead ones with a heavy sigh, expecting another day of no success. But that was when he noticed something that looked promising.
One of the gympie vines, a sickly one he had noticed previously but had left in hopes of it growing stronger, lacked the thorns the others had and only had a single flower bud near its base. This one was bigger, darker, and almost black with how red it was. And it seemed to faintly pulse. Not visibly; rather, Chris seemed to be able to feel it in his head like a low throb, a distant heartbeat that wasn't his. Not like when the plants spoke to him, but something far more distant and alien.
He crouched down, frowning as he looked it over closer. "What the hell are you?" He whispered, even going so far as to question the original gympie vine, having it tell him it was 'something strong and special' but not managing to tell him more other than its voice being small and young.
The bud didn't answer. He didn't entirely expect it to; he had long since learned that none of the second-gen plants could talk to him directly. He still couldn't hear them the way he heard the originals. They also weren't as smart, needing clear, direct orders either from him or the originals. But this seemed different, with the throbbing getting a little stronger as he got closer, like it was reacting to him.
He carefully reached out to touch it under the gympie vines' urging, a promise of something amazing happening. Yet the moment his fingers brushed the closed petals, the bud seemed to snap open with a sharp, wet sound followed by a piercing scream that ripped through his head, causing him to stumble back and grip his ears, trying to block out the mental screaming that soon brought him to his knees.
It was difficult to describe it. Like a high-pitched ring turned to eleven, sharp and needle-like, that went off directly inside his head, causing raw, wordless agony, which made his vision white out for a few seconds. A moment later, after stumbling a bit further back, the scream instantly cut off as fast as it started, leaving a ringing silence and faint aftershocks of pain.
All throughout the small village, the other plants seemed to react to the scream. The bronze bamboo, along with the rest, had begun to vibrate somewhat angrily with a low metallic hum. The spike balls had tightened, while the thorn bushes clicked defensively. The red-flowered gympie vines on the wall rustled, their blooms cracking open wider than usual, releasing that thick, sweet scent in a sudden wave, far more potent than before. Even the medical grass underfoot seemed to stiffen, blades pointing slightly upward like tiny spears, mixing with a patch of the shadow berry vines' own roots. The strangle vines had also risen, their far larger blossoms shaking as the needle extended far further than he thought possible.
Even the little world tree had sent a thin root, breaking through the soil before wrapping around his wrist, another slapping the ground between him and the cause of the scream. Its small voice came through with clear worry as it asked if he was in danger or hurt before telling him how all the other plants had also felt it.
Chris shook his head once he managed to regain his bearings, breathing slightly hard before managing to get it under control. "No, there's no danger yet. I'm not even sure yet what happened there, just that that thing... screamed?" He softly replied, hearing the gympie vine apologize, how it would talk to the new sprout about what it had done to ensure it controls itself better in the future.
Before he could comment on how a warning would have been nice or even just a heads-up, the ancient Ent's deep rumbling voice rang through his mind. It told him how the loud noise, once it learns control, could act as an alarm, and how it sensed his touch as a threat, wanting to both warn the rest and to try and temporarily stun them for them to have a chance to get ready.
Chris said nothing to that, instead staring at the now-open flower. Its petals had folded back completely, revealing a small cluster of needle-like stamens dripping clear fluid within. The black-red color pulsed once more, slower now, like it was calming down after the outburst.
He rubbed his temple. The headache was already fading, but an echo of that scream still lingered. "Felt like someone was dying in my brain." He muttered softly, only for the bamboo stalks' soft female voice to comment, telling him how it was better to feel that way than have it happen to him. That it would be perfect as an early warning system before urging him to replant it between her bamboo shoots. Telling him it had undergone an extreme mutation, changing in ways none had expected.
Chris let out a snort at that remark. He had hoped to create plants that wouldn't need his special soil, that could grow naturally or just take on properties of the already grown plants, pushing the limit of his skill. But this new plant was still unexpected, and made him realize something important. These weren't just plants anymore. They were reacting, evolving, developing instincts in ways he hadn't considered before. And this one had chosen to weaponize noise into a mental attack, along with a means to alert the other plants.
He stood up slowly, really looking around the changed village now. The mist from the cloud tree had thickened a little, almost like it was trying to hide the place from prying eyes. He just didn't have the heart to tell it that it made the place more out of place in the desert-like environment. The medical grass had spread across half the village now, and yet had left open large patches of rich soil where sand used to be.
"Alright," he muttered softly, once more moving over to the new vine. "If you're going to scream when something's wrong, then scream louder next time and not in our heads. Please try to focus it at our enemies instead of me, okay? If you have to scream at us, then please make it a bit of a lower level to not disorientate us, please."
The dark-red flower pulsed again but seemingly softer this time, which he took as an acknowledgment. There was no screaming this time. Just a faint throb that felt almost... apologetic. The gympie also constantly told him it was sorry, that it hadn't expected it to be so loud.
Chris snorted. "Don't get cute, you two." He told them, hints of a smile tugging on his lips.
He spent the rest of the morning testing the new vine.
He approached slowly from different angles. Each time he got within arm's reach, the flower opened and hit him with a short, sharp burst of mental noise, never as bad as the first, but enough to make his ears ring and his teeth ache. He learned distance seemed to matter; at five feet it was just a buzz, at three feet a stab, and at one foot a full scream that caused his vision to white out for a few seconds. He didn't risk touching its thorns, though, knowing how stupid that would be to try on himself.
He tried touching other parts of the vine. Nothing. Only the flower triggered it.
He tried approaching one of the other gympie vines with red flowers, finding it gave no reaction at all. Just the usual faint sweet scent with an overly calming effect.
By midday he had a rough idea how to use it.
He started by transplanting it, putting it between the bamboo shoots with a bit of his special soil to ensure it grows properly before placing a pair of stones and turning them into makeshift markers barely visible in the ground. The first being four feet away with the order to let them know should it detect anyone that far out, and the next at two feet, where it would let out its scream. He did what he could to make them hard to notice. Carefully testing, he was happy to note it understood his orders. Going so far as to lower its screams to not harm him this time.
The originals seemed quite pleased by this. The ancient Ent rumbled approval in his mind, while the female bamboo voice murmured something about it being a "clever child." When he asked what it meant, it replied how it seemed to want to try and spread out, telling him how it wanted to mix with the other vines and plants. Even the medical grass sent a faint feeling of smug satisfaction through the soil under his feet.
Chris wiped sweat from his brow and looked at the flower again. It had closed back up, looking innocent now. Just another red bloom among many, making him smile. Even if its vine were yellow, it still seemed to blend in naturally among the rest.
It wasn't what he expected. It wasn't a hybrid like he thought he could grow. It was something different, and he couldn't help but smile about it. This was adaptation with purpose. Defense that didn't wait for him to give orders or act lethally as its only means of protection.
Shaking his head at the thought that he was turning the village into a fortress rather than a haven, he made his way to the storage hut to grab a bowl and some meat to cook. The little world tree's root that had trailed him all day since the flower screamed finally sank back into the dirt.
Tomorrow he'd see if it managed to spread out a bit more. Maybe it would have somehow turned a few others around it into similar screaming flowers. He ironically hoped now others would come by, that they would be a real test of how effective it could really be.
That thought made him pause. The unsettling realization that no other people had come by. Not bandits wanting revenge or to find out what happened to their missing numbers. Not outcasts or those tossed away. Not even a random adventurer or party trying to attack the dungeon. He hadn't even had to face any centaurs or Minotaur's. Only wolves and mutts. Their numbers were still steadily increasing, but besides that, the Barrens were quiet for now. And that unsettled him more than he would admit.