CHAPTER 56: OUTLIER’S GAMBLE

The Rootsite plaza in the Forgotten Atlanta Expanse was a shrouded fortress, a dense veil of thorned roots woven by Verdant Dominion cloaking Clayton Hunt’s desperate gamble.

His Heartseed Core screamed, Genesis Threshold at 95%, Aspect Strain critical, as he faced the Spore Plague Lord; a Luminous Seed Spore Crown Behemoth, its 20 meter fungal mass pulsing with toxic veins, Mycotic Tendrils thrashing against Verdant Bastion’s venom-sap pits.

His 23 Initiate Ember minions; 9 Thorn Hounds, 7 Howl Shriekers, 5 Ash Sprites, 2 Spore Drifters swarmed via Aphid Network, weakening the beast, but this was no ordinary hunt.

Clayton, an Initiate Ember, aimed to subordinate a Luminous Seed; impossible, suicidal, unprecedented, and yet his gutsy soul burned for it.

By now, Clayton was used to attempting the impossible.

After all, no human was supposed to survive that brutal part of Echoterra where he found himself for his 1st trial.

That ecosystem taught him the art of attempting the impossible for a living.

"Bow or break, mushroom!" He growled, blood dripping, dark humor a shield. "I’m not dying today, neither are you. So submit, mother*cker!"

His Regalia of the Verdant Warden stabbed into the Plague Lord’s fungal core; he ruthlessly twisted the spear, Core Maw biting, Symbiotic Command flooding its mind with Aphid Network’s will.

The Plague Lord screamed; a wet, psychic bellow that eroded sanity, its Toxic Spore Shroud burning Clayton’s Flame-Resistant skin, spores clawing his lungs.

The battle of wills erupted, Clayton’s Verdant Tyranny a blade against the Lord’s primal fury.

Glimpses of the Plague Lord’s mind flashed through Hive-Sight, not a beast’s instinct but a budding intelligence, alien and ravenous.

’I am the rot king, eater of worlds’, it pulsed, Mycotic Tendrils thrashing, Spore Regalia flaring to reject his dominion.

’You are prey, seedling, dust before my bloom!’

Its will was a tidal wave, memories of consuming forests, assimilating Behemorphs, ruling spore-choked ruins.

It was a true king, a lord, a monarch.

Clayton’s mind buckled, Echoterra’s trials surging; seed-self dying in the Spore Choir, Scorchpath’s ash choking his family, Earth’s collapse in his 330 years of absence.

DING!

~----~

[Subordination Attempt: Spore Plague Lord – 20% Progress]

[Genesis Threshold: 97%]

[Aspect Strain: Catastrophic]

[System Warning: Core collapse in 15 seconds. Survival probability: 10%.]

~----~

Clayton roared, spite his anchor.

He wasn’t prey; he was an outlier, a king forged in hell.

Phytoleech Bloom drained fungal biomass, fueling his Core Maw, Rootlash Dominion tightening vines to pin tendrils.

His minions pressed; Howl Shriekers disrupting with sonic pulses, Thorn Hounds goring, Ash Sprites igniting spore veins.

Verdant Bastion’s venom-sap pits corroded the Lord’s base, Spine Bloom thorns piercing its shell. Pain tore through Clayton, psychic wounds from the Apostate’s Echoes reopening, blood pooling, but his will burned brighter.

Pain was a fuel for his spite.

’You cannot bind me,’ the Plague Lord pulsed, Biomass Assimilation absorbing a Spore Drifter, its mass swelling.

’I am eternal rot!’ Spores flooded the veil, Termor Sense blurring, Genesis Threshold hitting 99%.

Clayton’s vision fractured; his sister’s face fading, Echoterra’s Verdant Cradle burning, but he gripped his Regalia, Symbiotic Command a psychic lash.

"Eternal, my ass," he spat, humor now giving way for raw anger, rage. "You’re mine!" He snarled.

He slammed his will forward like a sledgehammer, Aphid Network surging, Territorial Sentience linking the Rootsite’s Earthcore Nexus to his soul.

The Nexus roared, Mycoglyphs flaring, its hunger amplifying his Verdant Tyranny.

The Plague Lord faltered, its intelligence recoiling. ’This seedling... defies the cycle...?’ It thought as Clayton’s spite and rage forged in 330 years of loss crushed its defiance.

Vines pierced its core, Core Maw devouring its resistance, Symbiotic Command binding its mind.

DING!

~----~

[Subordination Attempt: Spore Plague Lord – 100% Complete]

[Behemorph Subordinated: Spore Plague Lord (Luminous Seed)]

[Minions Lost: 1 Spore Drifter]

[Genesis Threshold: 99%]

[Aspect Strain: Catastrophic]

[System Note: Core stabilization required. Survival probability: 20%.]

~----~

The Plague Lord knelt, tendrils still, spore cloud thinning, its fungal core pulsing in sync with Clayton’s Heartseed.

His Hive-Sight flashed; alien thoughts tamed, loyalty forged.

He collapsed, bloodied, Regalia trembling, but alive.

An Initiate Ember had done the impossible.

He had tamed a Luminous Seed Behemorph!

...

Ruined Tram Spire, 5 Kilometers West.

The Verdant Apostate’s eyes blazed, Echoes of Ruin trembling with shock.

Clayton had dominated the Plague Lord, his Verdant Bastion and Aphid Network turning a Luminous Seed into prey.

Her kin; heat, cold, decay Aspects stirred, their reconnaissance broken by disbelief.

"He’s weakened," she hissed, spectral tendrils coiling. "Strike now!"

They advanced, unaware the Plague Lord was no longer a third party foe, their Aspects igniting; heat flaring, cold crackling, decay rotting roots.

Clayton’s Territorial Sentience pinged their approach, his gut twisting.

He’d sensed them during the fight, their shock betraying their cloak. He was exposed, Aspect Strain catastrophic, but the Plague Lord changed everything.

...

Rootsite Plaza.

The thorn veil parted, Clayton staggering upright, Regalia in spear form, 22 minions rallying; 9 Thorn Hounds, 7 Howl Shriekers, 5 Ash Sprites, 1 Spore Drifter.

The Plague Lord loomed, its fungal mass his trump card.

The Apostates emerged, Echoes of Ruin surging, psychic whispers clawing Clayton’s mind; memories of failure, loss, betrayal.

The heat-kin’s flames roared, the cold-kin’s frost snapped, the decay-kin’s rot withered Verdant Bastion’s vines.

Clayton smirked, blood staining his teeth, gutsy to the end. "You picked the wrong day, weirdos".

He roared, Symbiotic Command unleashing the Plague Lord.

Its Toxic Spore Shroud erupted, countering the decay-kin’s rot, Mycotic tendrils lashing the heat-kin’s flames.

Howl Shriekers staggered the cold-kin, Thorn Hounds charging, Clayton’s Spine Bloom fired venom-sap thorns, Core Maw snapping at spectral threads.

The Apostates froze, shocked, their ambush crumbling as the Luminous Seed minion turned their trap into a slaughter.

The Expanse quaked, Mycoglyphs pulsing, cosmic horror alive in the Plague Lord’s alien roar.

...

Ironhold-3 Forward Camp, 12 Kilometers South.

The Null Shrikes marched, Genesis Disruptors nullifying Aspect connections, Null Blades ready to sever Genesis flesh.

Captan Vex scanned the horizon, vox silent, unaware of the Rootsite’s war.

Their approach tightened the noose, but the battle raged without them.