Chapter 12: Thorns and strategy

Words : 1136 Updated : Sep 16th, 2025

Chapter 12 - Thorns and strategy'How long have I been in this world?' For a long time now, I've noticed that time in this world is different, chaotic. Something lingering between dawn and twilight, totally unpredictable. And so, I tried to cope with time in my own unique way. I didn't probe deeper because I was still confused, trying to understand this world. But now, I know more. Now, I had a goal, an objective. And most importantly, I remembered. And so, I was curious again, how long have I been in Echoterra? How long has it been since the end of the world started? After careful thinking, I drafted a pretty rough timeline in my head. There is a high chance that it's not accurate, but for now, I'd do with whatever I can get. I started from Day 0. In my mind, Day 0 starts in Earth, the day the end of the world began with the start of the Genesis Protocols. Light flashes, time fractures, and I am dragged into a new existence. Day 1? Day 1 officially starts when I regained my consciousness in this world, Echoterra. That day, I was confused, frightened, trying to understand a lot of things. Though I don't know how much time passed, I took it as a full day. Day 2 is when I sensed sunlight for the first time, triggering my first evolution. That is when I grow roots, senses, and slowly break out of my seed form. When I also gain access to Basic Photosynthesis and Sensory Taproot, and it's also when I make my first claim to territory; a small patch of fertile soil after outgrowing my very first rival who started as a seed just like me. Day 3? I'll never forget Day 3; it's when that damned rodent approaches and bites me, causing intense pain, wiping away every delusion of peace in my head. On that same day, I retaliate by evolving defensive thorns and root spikes with which I wound the rodent and drive it away. I also learned an important truth that day, that growth means inviting danger, and lack of growth means death. The ruthless crucible of Echoterra starts. On Day 4? That's when the blood from the rodent attracts a new threat, the prelude to the great territorial battle. On day 5, I fought the great territorial battle. Something tells me that everything started and ended in a single day, but for some reason, I also feel like that battle took a lot of time. So I extend it to Day 6. It was in Day 6 that I won my very first major territorial battle against that bastard. Also, on Day 6, I'm guessing by night, is when I warn off the new intruder and after all the sudden revelations is when I trigger the fragmented memories. Since then, I'm thinking that some time already passed. I spent another full day accepting the reality of my world, Earth, the fact that the world is coming to an end. The Genesis Protocols, everything, then cultivating my spite, warning off intruders and killing others, it all happen on Day 7. And now, I am approaching Day 8. I had a thought. 'It's been more than a week already since the end of the world started, huh?' 'I wonder if there'll still be an Earth to return to if I survive here'. ... I didn't sleep anymore. Not like I used to. Not when every inch of Echoterra whispered of blood and rot and hunger. I sat rooted, body still but mind alight, watching the perimeter of my 7.8 square meter dominion. It wasn't enough. Not anymore. This wasn't survival. It was containment. A breath held too long, a blade never drawn. My instincts knew it before I did; if I stayed still, I'd rot. The land would devour me as it did the others. The Trial wasn't won through shelter, it was won through conquest. And so I planned my first expansion. This would not be blind growth. Every thorn I extended, every seed I planted would be tactical, purposeful. seaʀᴄh thё NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I began by surveying the terrain. To the west, a fungal swampland lay. Rotting spores, putrid bogs, clouds of toxic mist that made even the vines recoil. Not ideal, not yet. To the north lay skeletal trees twisted by ashwinds, their bark covered in crimson lichen that whispered and bled when touched. Maybe. But to the east? Opportunity. A clearing, overgrown with weak sunblossoms and brittle sproutbeasts. The perfect prey for resource gathering. More than that, it was undefended. And so, it was decided. I would move east. But Echoterra doesn't allow growth without pain. First, I reached. Vines slithered forward from the edges of my dominion, cautious, low to the ground like scouts crawling into enemy land. I extended my Claim, a primitive reach of territorial energy that pushed my influence inch by inch beyond the line of safety. The first few meters were effortless. The soil was eager; unclaimed, fertile. But then, resistance. Not from a beast, but from the world itself. Echoterra knew I was growing. And like antibodies to a virus, it reacted. The grass screamed first. Tiny, high-pitched screeches as the stalks sharpened and lashed out. Then came the feeders; tiny burrowing leeches that clung to my vines and drained them dry. I hissed through my thorns and countered. Spiked root clusters sprouted beneath the soil and erupted in a thicket of impaling tendrils, clearing the path. I flooded the roots with biomass stolen from my previous kills, forcing them to grow faster, stronger, meaner. And so, meter by meter, I pushed the edge. I reached 9.3 square meters before the world quieted again. A victory. Small, insignificant in scale, but not in intent. Because now I wasn't just a survivor. I was a strategist. DING! ~----~ [System Notification!] [Territorial Expansion Successful] >Your Territory has increased to 9.3 square meters. >Environmental Stability: Maintained. >Instinct Enhancement Threshold: 12.5 sq.m. ["Your roots deepen. The land begins to murmur your name."] ~----~ The words appeared not in light, but in presence; a tingling on the bark of my mind, a thrum through the veins of my roots. Echoterra was listening. And now, it was responding. The border pulsed with a faint green glow as my claim solidified. I could feel it; feel the whisper of leaves swaying not just with the wind, but with purpose. My purpose. There was still so much to do. But now, I had momentum.

Chapter 12: Thorns and strategy

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