Chris sat by that patch for the rest of the day, gently encouraging the little sprout to grow and spread while seemingly waiting for something to happen. Even Sera had left after a short while.
The little world tree's root was wrapped around his left wrist the entire time, seemingly encouraging this new plant to form and grow, making him smile, especially when he heard it was sharing its root network with it, how it ran over the little world tree's roots. He hadn't heard it say anything, but the world tree was adamant it was growing steadily, spreading quickly, and was rather friendly.
A bit over three days passed before something began to visibly happen. In that time, Chris continued to improve the layout of the village, but when he slept, he seemed to feel the newly growing plant—a connection slightly deeper than what he had with any of the other plants. Admittedly, he was slightly worried about the little world tree growing jealous, but instead it seemed to take the new plant as a sibling of sorts, going so far as to tell him with its happy voice full of pride that its roots were mixing and that they were growing well together.
His newfound determination and joy took both Sera and Korr by surprise. They often asked if this new plant was the cause of the personality change, only for him to smile a bit wider and assure them it would be a game changer. It was on that third day in the evening that it finally pressed itself through the soil once more, the little world tree telling him it was ready now.
Behind him, the village had settled into the rhythms he'd set in motion. The bamboo rows stood in formation. The spike balls waited in their kill zones. The strangle vines had coiled themselves into patterns that Korr had drilled into them, and even though the beasts had become less in number, they hadn't complained. Instead, they told him they were 'tempering' themselves while waiting for the good meat to come.
He adapted to it all, though. The little world tree and his new plant helped him accept that while it wasn't his design, it was his village. He just wasn't sure anymore what that meant, but the pair kept reassuring him about it. Once the new little plant was ready, he would be able to see how true it was.
"It's been days now. Normally your plants grow a lot faster than this," Sera began. "And when we ask what it is you're trying to grow, you just smile in this weird way and give off this feeling of pride. I really am starting to get tired of waiting to see, though. What kind of monster is this?"
She continued, clearly the wait and mystery had been working on her, but he didn't turn from his spot next to what he was growing. Instead, he just pointed out how it began to press through the soil—a stump-like stem with a bulb-like top, deep purple-black threaded roots with silver veins that pulsed like something alive, swinging around and beginning to wrap around its base with another bundle making a seat in front of it.
"It's almost ready," he said, almost vibrating with excitement. His gamble and chance were paying off in an unexpected manner.
"Ready for what? What even is this thing?" Sera asked in surprise and awe.
He didn't have an answer. Instead, he sat down on the new seat, both of them watching as the bulb split open slow and steady into a rather large flower, its petals reminding her of a star-filled sky. In its center, a large piston-like stem began to rise up and curl ever so slightly over itself and around Chris. A mass of dark red vines began to rise from the soil, writhing and reaching. For a moment, Chris thought he might have made another mistake, but the little world tree told him it was just excited—even as the vine-like roots began to wrap around his wrists tightly, but not enough to break them. Then he noticed how they seemed to sink in.
It wasn't pain, and he made sure to tell Sera that before she could panic, reassuring her it was supposed to happen even though he himself hadn't expected something like this—or how they seemed to be expanding through him. The root-like vines ran painlessly under his skin, following the veins up his arm and seemingly thinning out, becoming a series of black lines across his arms and up his neck, pulsing with an ever-slow and steady rhythm.
The little world tree's voice cut through his thoughts, telling him to focus and stay with them, making him realize how his mind had begun to drift. He soon felt it grip his leg, giving a small squeeze before he mentally reassured it that he wasn't going anywhere, along with asking the new growth to lessen slightly.
He felt the root-like vines slowly begin to recede and coil at his wrists, yet the lines remained across his arms as a permanent mark of his link to it. The new plant told him almost clinically how the marks were needed, that they would improve their connection, before adding how it wasn't because it wanted to mark him like the world tree had. Those words almost had him bursting out laughing. Instead, he looked at the center of his wrists and noticed a tiny knot-like swirl where the root vines were going into him.
"Doesn't that hurt? Chris, what the hell is this thing! You're making me think of the Dryads of legend, but even they were born from their trees, not... This!" Sera said sharply as she narrowed her eyes, her hand resting on her blade, seemingly ready to try and cut him free if needed.
"Its fine, Sera. This is exactly what I wanted. What I needed. I want to be able to help, to make an impact and actually do something even if I can't fight on the front lines or effectively like you and Korr. As we already established, I'm a grower and a gardener. I needed to embrace that since it's my skill and strength, so this is my answer to that. This will be how I fight."
And with that, he closed his eyes—and the world around him seemed to open.
Every plant. Every root. Every blade of grass. Even the last rays of the sun on the cloud tree's leaves could be felt. The way the fig tree's fluid slowly ran across its leaves. The bristling of the spike bushes that had grown onto the Ent walls. He shouldn't have been able to feel any of this. It was supposed to be a simple means to better connect with the plants and to use the world tree's spread roots as a radar he could use in real time.
It was all too much and too fast. The sensations crashed into him one after the other: heat, cold, pressure, hunger, thirst—it went on and on, all overlapping and blending as they assaulted him, all of it at once, all of it feeling as if it was his. He gasped and seemed to sway, his fingers digging into the seat as sweat began to bead across his brow, his jaw clenched tightly as his eyes squeezed shut.
The little world tree's root squeezed his leg with a sharp, focused pressure. "Here. Focus here." He heard it whisper softly as it seemed to overlay the chaos swarming his mind, and he found himself drifting over to a small, blurry green light only faintly in the figure of a person.
As he did, the chaos seemed to rapidly fade. Not gone, but almost as if it was now filtered. He quickly realized the little world tree was sorting through it for him, pushing back the noise and letting him breathe.
The Critic's voice cut through crisp and clear, a hazy figure looking like a blade of grass. "You're trying to feel everything at once. That's not how this works! You need to focus on one thing at a time and slowly expand outward."
It proved things hadn't worked like he had expected, having become something far more extreme, and yet he never felt more alive, more accomplished than he did now. It meant he could work with his plants and actually fight alongside them without risking his life or causing them to make mistakes to try and keep him safe.
With a deep breath, he tried what the medical grass told him to do. Starting with a single plant. The little world tree's figure seemingly bounced next to him as he tried it with the Ancient Ent.
He instantly began to feel the Barrens through its branches. How the wind rustled and the dust lightly pelted it in a strange tingle, soon followed by the distant beat of the dungeon. The weight of years, of watching and waiting, countered by the Ancient Ent's resolve and determination to stand against it.
He then tried to focus on something else, something simpler and of the second generation—a spike ball near the gate. He noticed how even though they were a combination of spike bushes, they were still individual plants. Soon, he noted how he could feel as it lost a few thorns to a beast—something small, a mutt, had been caught by it and brought down as the spikes broke into it. Chris felt all of it as a small itch, sharp and annoying, that made him flinch ever so slightly—not in pain, but by how alien it felt.
Sera's voice slowly cut through, sounding faint and distant as she seemed to call his name.
He opened his eyes slowly, tasting a metallic taste before realizing there was blood on his lip where he'd bitten it without realizing it early on. He didn't say much, simply telling her he was fine and that it worked with a weak smile.
She found him at the gate a few hours later. He was sitting with his back against the Ancient Ent, his right arm cradled in his lap as he seemed to be staring at the lines that had spread up his arm, gently tracing them with his other hand.
She didn't ask, even though she wanted to demand answers. Instead, she sat beside him.
"It was supposed to be a means for me to see what's happening in our surroundings, using my world tree's roots as a real-time map that's always up to date. Instead, I made something that lets me deeply link with my plants."
She was quiet for a moment, looking him over with interest. "What does it feel like?" she eventually asked with a soft voice filled with curiosity.
"Well, if a spike ball loses a few thorns, it has this weird itch that you can't reach or scratch. The old man here seems to be able to feel a beat coming from the dungeon itself and is adamant in being ready for whatever will be coming from it." He paused. "If something kills one of them..."
He didn't finish. He still had a lot more testing to do, but if he could feel all that and had almost been overwhelmed when he first connected, he was worried it would take something from him if he was connected to one of them when they died.
She nodded slowly, clearly coming to the same conclusion. "So, you're going to be the one who sees what's coming and helps us prepare?" She began, clearly trying to change the subject. "And be the one who tells them where to strike, being with them but not there?"
He simply smiled and gave a short nod. "I will be able to see what might be overlooked or missed, while being right there with them."
She looked at him at that, her gaze piercing but unreadable. "You wanted to be more than someone who waits or just takes orders. You said you wanted to make your own choices. But I didn't expect it to be so extreme."
He looked at the knot swirl on his wrist, feeling it pulse ever so slightly. The new network plant whispered that it was ready whenever he was.
"I wanted to stop being afraid and to actually do something for myself again. To make my own choice rather than following everyone else. To prove I could do something right," he said softly.
"And this did that for you?"
He paused, a frown forming on his face as he remembered what had happened not even a half-hour earlier. He had wanted to see what its seeds could become—if he could create more control points. It had warned him against it but didn't stop him, instead insisting that he plant the seed a short distance away and be ready. That what would come would be bad, but he would need to see it for himself.
He had been hesitant, asking what it meant. Instead of answering, it had told him that some things shouldn't be grown. That if they were, it would be to punish their enemies. That it was one of a kind—it and the world tree being the only ones that could be allowed to exist. That 'the old voice' told them that, while urging them to tell him to grow more interesting stuff, to get his spine back.
He hadn't liked any of that, especially if the old voice they mentioned belonged to that damned old god who had done all this. But despite all that, he went a short distance outside the village and planted the seed.
It didn't become like the network plant. Rather, its vines moved rapidly across the ground, its roots raising it like spider legs while growing faster than anything he'd seen thus far. It also seemed to attack everything within reach—beasts, plants—and had even taken a few strikes at one of the Ents after it made its way to the village from the spot he had planted.
The only reason the village survived it was pure luck. A Minotaur pack seemed to have chosen that moment to try and attack. The monster's vines fought them while the originals fought the monster vines. In the chaos, Chris managed to throw his staff from atop the rampart and hit the center of its flower. It screamed as it fought more violently, only for the Ent he was on to swing down a branch and pierce it.
The few surviving Minotaur's dragged what was left of it away. He felt it wasn't worth drawing out another fight over something that was clearly fading, so he allowed them to take the slowly crumbling and dissolving mass away for him. He noticed a few scattered roots still remaining where it had fallen. They were dug into the ground that now looked deathly grey. He even began to wonder if the thing had even truly died, as when he stared at it in the dark, he swore he saw them move. The various plants reassured him it was truly dead, though. The Critic had clearly told him the sand there was permanently ruined—how even it couldn't repair it. Even the wind seemed to blow around the large patch of grey sand, not disturbing or picking it up like it did the sand around it.
"Yes," he admitted. "Even with some of the problems that came from it, I feel I'm moving forward again. I feel like I'm doing what I should and what feels right for me."
When Korr approached him the next morning, the sun was barely over the horizon. Chris was busy talking softly to the world tree and the network plant, a sense of ease and peace clearly visible yet mixed with clear determination.
"You've changed," Korr said. His voice was low and measured, with hints of clear questioning as his red eyes fixed on Chris's arms, on the dark lines that now reached his neck.
"I know," Chris said simply, with a knowing smile, as if he wanted Korr to ask what he wanted rather than trying to dig for answers.
Korr simply studied him more intently. "The little girl told me about your… Connection plant. How you are able to see everything around the village and in it. How you can better command the plants through it. Is that true?"
Chris didn't answer right away, instead giving a small nod as he weighed his words. "Yes, among other things, such as feeling what they feel. I'm still discussing the limitations and need to make further tests to truly see what we can do."
Korr was quiet for a moment, his eyes narrowing on Chris. "Commanders who see the whole battlefield are dangerous. They know where to strike, when to pull back, when to press forward." He paused. "They're also beyond vulnerable for those same exact reasons. This will be a boon to the village."
"I know all that. It was the goal I had in mind, but I ended up getting more than I thought, so I'm trying to learn what we can and can't do."
Korr's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted. "Then learn faster. There have been people skulking around—Empire people. It means your little patch of privacy may not be that private for much longer."
He didn't give Chris a chance to ask what he meant, instead simply walking back to the gate.
He spent the rest of the day practicing after that, until the sky began to bleed orange and red across the Barrens. He filtered less and less throughout the day, starting with just the Ents. They carried a sense of duty and yet a patient dullness—a sense of waiting. He slowly expanded to the bristling spike bushes, faintly noting the originals as brown balls of needles that turned to "look" at him before going back to their business, settling and preparing.
Through the strangle vines, he felt the near-endless hunger and yet could taste the air and see the world not just through vibrations across the ground but by the breeze in the air. Each easily noticed him and appeared as red, jelly-like figures with mouths stretching across their faces. When one commented on how he could feast with them now, he decided he was done for the time being.
He opened his eyes slowly, noticing how his arms ached on a bone-deep level. The bark-like marks had spread slightly further. The skin on his forearm felt harder. Rougher. Like calluses, but deeper. He scratched it absently. There was also a tiredness that had him stumble ever so slightly and a near-famished hunger, as if he hadn't eaten in days.
As he was devouring bits of dried meat, one after another, Sera approached him from the side. Her gaze passed over the bark-like skin with the black markings, a frown steadily forming. "It's spreading."
He looked up at her mid-bite, finishing the bit of meat before answering. "It's not spreading. Rather, it seems like it's... hardening. Like my body's trying to protect itself or add its own layer of organic armor."
She stepped closer, roughly grabbing his arm and studying it. The bark-like ridges had thickened slightly, spreading from his wrist to his elbow. In the fading light, she admitted it did almost look like armor.
"Is it going to keep going?" she asked with hints of worry. "And can you still move without issue? It isn't weighing you down or affecting movement?"
He didn't have an answer. He thought about the lines reaching across his arms and how a few had ever so steadily begun to move across his chest, wondering if this would be doing the same.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But so far it hasn't been anything negative, and honestly, considering the way things are going, I would imagine being a woodman would fit me." His joke got him a flat look and a sigh.
"Just try to take care of yourself, okay? None of us want to lose you." She told him before walking away, but not before grabbing a piece of dried meat of her own.
He tried one more time that night, sitting in the seat and linking up with what he began to call 'the rootmind', a play on an organic creature from a game in his old world.
"How far can you feel?" he asked, floating in the familiar way and noticing the various pulses, recognizing them better as the beasts doing their nightly attack. One was far off that he couldn't properly make out, and a few others he could only vaguely make out as possibly people leaving. He even managed to find Korr and his camp, 'watching' the old demon sort through a pack.
The rootmind appeared next to him, its figure a humanoid void of black and purple. The little green world tree bounced next to it.
"Further than yesterday. But not as far as tomorrow. I'm sure, given enough time, I can know the entire area with you here. Not that I need you. I already have this one here. You're just… helpful, I suppose."
It told him with clear pride and a huff that made him smile. Upon sensing the mutts and wolves, he turned to them. "Let's see how good we are in actual fighting. Are you two ready?"
The feeling of excitement was all he needed to know they were more than ready as they began to guide and help the various other plants fend off the large wave of wolves and mutts.