CHAPTER 72: FANGS OF THE PACIFIST

Clayton killed the Plague Sovereign.

Well, it was not a secret.

The Ironblood, 200 meters out, froze, witnessing Clayton’s triumph.

One of the reasons why Draven ordered them to leave so desperately was because of follow-up forces, not just because of the threat of the Plague Sovereign.

One way or another, they knew that the Sovereign would die eventually.

What Draven was truly scared of was the other factions. The Verdant Apostates, and maybe even the Rootbound Clans.

What they didn’t expect though was this... this guy.

Vrenna’s breath caught. "Green... is alive?!" Fear gripped her, his Verdant Lord form unseen but she could imagine it; thorned, fungal, divine, a ghost from Bastion-7’s slaughter.

"H-Hunt". A voice trembled.

"Huh?" Vrenna turned to look at him.

Sylas flinched. "I-it’s his name". He stuttered. "I finally got result from my DNA tests. I traced his origin. He entered the Genesis Protocol trials 300 years ago, right at the start. His name is Clayton Hunt".

Vrenna didn’t answer, looking away, still filled with dread.

Draven’s Lance trembled. "He’s back... to haunt us".

As the Commander of Ironhold-3, he received reports of the new Verdant Lord in the Forgotten Atlanta Expanse. Afterall, he was the one who sent the Null Shrike team to eliminate the Verdant Lord.

To think he was still alive.

Rhea’s eyes widened, Drayce’s shard slipping, terror outweighing rage. She could feel her sanity unraveling one tendril at a time.

Clayton, their dead enemy, risen, killing a Verdant Warden. It was too much.

Sylas whispered. "He’s a god..."

The 10 survivors staggered, minds breaking, the Verdant Lord’s silhouette a nightmare etched in spore-lit ash.

This was their final memory, fleeing to Ironhold-4, Earthcore Nexus’s hunger a dirge, the Expanse’s ruins their grave.

...

Kaelith Veyne, Echoes of Ruin in stolen flesh, stood on the vine-woven throne of the Rootbound Clans’ Grove, 50 kilometers north of Ironhold-3’s ruins.

Her jade eyes, framed by vine-woven hair, glinted with malice, her dual Aspects, Echoes of Ruin and Groveheart Dominion, one Protocol Bearer rank and the other Verdant Warden rank pulsing beneath Verdant Relics, a thorned mantle amplifying her power.

The Grove, a 10 square kilometer sanctuary of bioluminescent flora and sentient roots, thrummed with Earthcore Nexus vibrations, its Mycoglyphs glowing softly.

The Rootbound Clans were pacifists; not weaklings, but guardians who bared fangs only when peace shattered.

They had powerful Awakened. But their strength was a shield, not a sword.

They would rather protect than kill.

That doesn’t mean they can’t kill though. A necessity to survive in the age of the Genesis Protocols was the ability to kill.

The Oblivion Cascade’s detonation had shaken the Grove, its Null Scion shockwave nullifying Mycoglyphs, Nexus trembling.

Echoes’s Groveheart Dominion sensed the Plague Sovereign’s death, its Verdant Warden Embers flooding the Expanse, triggering a cosmic shift.

The Clan stirred, their pacifism tested.

Ironhold-3’s fall threatened their sanctuary. They didn’t know the fate of the Behemorph, if it was coming for them or not.

Tharn, a Verdant Warden Awakened, one of the very few Verdant Warden Awakened in the world. He had an Aspect called Thornveil Aegis (defensive roots), his scarred face was grim. He urged caution.

Lirien, a Luminous Seed with Bloomheart Surge (healing sap), her silver braids glowing, whispered of peace.

But Echoes, now in the body of a Luminous Seed leader of the Clan, her Protocol Bearer Aspect weaving memories of Apostate kin craved action.

"No more passivity," she declared, voice Kaelith’s, laced with Echoes’ malice. "We scout Ironhold-3. If any threat remains, we end them".

Tharn’s eyes narrowed, staring straight at her.

Echoes stared back. "Can’t you guys understand?! It’s not just us, it’s not just me and you, it’s our full Clan, our children too!"

"Do you want our children to perish because you’re so stuck in, and you refused to go scout for danger?!"

Lirien’s sap-vines twitched, Tharn’s narrowed eyes darkening, but the Grove’s council, comprising 10 Awakened eventually nodded, their pacifism bending under fear.

Echoes led a party of 20; Tharn, Lirien, and 18 Luminous Seed warriors, their Verdant Relics- thorned staves and rootwoven armor humming.

The Rootbound Clans had the mightiest force in the Forgotten Atlanta Expanse. The only reason why they haven’t conquered it all yet was because they were Pacifists.

The Groveheart Dominion cloaked them in spectral vines as they moved, Nexus guiding their path to Ironhold-3.

...

The scouting party reached Ironhold-3, 50 kilometers south, finding a 3 kilometer crater, a scar of cosmic ruin.

The fortress was gone, steel spires melted into slag pools, Furnace Cores fused to ash, Titanforge Mechs liquefied into fungal-choked husks.

Null Scion residue lingered, nullifying Mycoglyphs, Earthcore Nexus silent.

Shrapnel littered the crater, Null Lances warped, drone husks sprouting fungal blooms from Plague Sovereign’s residual Reality-Warp Spores.

Bloodstains, charred bones, and over 200 Ironblood corpses; vaporized, shredded, fused to steel marked the Oblivion Cascade’s wrath.

A bunker’s rubble held singed armor, hinting at survivors’ flight, their tracks leading to Ironhold-4. The Plague Sovereign’s corpse sprawled, 57 meters, nexus shattered, tendrils severed, Sporebloom Maws charred, its 300 Embers gone, claimed by another.

Tharn knelt, Thornveil Aegis probing roots, tracing sap-wounds and thorn-marks on the Plague Sovereign’s nexus.

"Ironblood didn’t kill this," he rumbled, voice low. "Their Null Scions wounded it, the bomb too, but these marks... Core Maw, Spine Bloom. This was done by a Verdant Lord".

Lirien’s sap-vines recoiled, Bloomheart Surge sensing Embers’ absence. "The survivors fled, weak. Another took the Embers".

Echoes froze, Echoes of Ruin Aspect flooding with memories; memories of the Verdant Lord, his Regalia piercing her kin, his death at Bastion-7.

Her jade eyes widened, shock cracking Kaelith’s mask. "He’s... alive?" She whispered, Groveheart Dominion trembling, confirming his survival, a threat she thought she’d buried.

The Nexus pulsed, dread coiling, Clayton’s Verdant Lord a shadow she’d almost missed.

Regaining composure a moment later, her voice hardened. "The Ironblood are fleeing to Ironhold-4. Let’s hunt them, and let’s end their threat".

Tharn stood, Thornveil Aegis flaring, roots spiking as he turned sharply to face her. "No, Kaelith. We scout, not slaughter. Our peace forbids it".

Echoes wanted to scoff, but she held herself back.

Lirien’s silver braids glowed, Bloomheart Surge steady. "The Ironblood are broken. They’re no threat. We protect, not pursue".

The 18 warriors murmured, staves gripped, eyes on Echoes.

Her Protocol Bearer Aspect urged psychic knives, but their pacifism held; unyielding, a wall even Kaelith’s authority couldn’t breach.

Tharn’s scarred gaze lingered, suspicion deepening, Lirien’s sap-vines probing her aura, alien since her ’return’.

Doubts seeded in the Clans’ best. ’Who inhabits Kaelith’s body?’

Their trust was fraying. Echoes was losing control, and she realized it.

"Let’s return to the Grove," she relented, voice tight, jade eyes masking rage. "We prepare, not pursue... for now".

The party retreated, spectral vines cloaking, Groveheart Dominion guiding them north, Ironhold-3’s crater a warning of threats beyond Ironhold.

...

Clayton stayed hidden.

As it all happened, he watched from a spire’s shadow, 500 meters out, Shedskin’s camouflage blending with ash, Regalia in bow form, 315 Genesis Embers pulsing in his Heartseed Core.

His Aphid Network lurked, Veil of Verdant Shroud cloaking, Territorial Sentience tracking Echoes’s party.

It was his first time meeting one of the Rootbound Clans, and he had to say the experience was illuminating.

Her shock, her proposal to hunt Ironblood, her retreat, they were all seen by him. The moment he heard her speak, he recognized her.

"Ghost-girl’s playing queen," he muttered, humor dark, Spore Plague Lord’s tendrils twitching nearby. "Keep your crown, for now".

"Mine’s heavier".

END OF PART 1, VOLUME 2.