Chapter 130: The last turning

The war of Verdant Lords did not erupt all at once. It grew like a creeping vine; slow, quiet, then suddenly choking everything it touched. At first, Korrath probed his enemy’s Rootsite with raids. Small groups of biomechanical scouts, probing for weakness. They never returned. Then came the supply wars. Clayton’s team struck his spires. He responded by striking the Rootsite’s resource lines. From the moment that Korrath’s Avatar failed to kill the enemy Verdant Lord in the initial invasion, he knew that this would be a drawn-out battle. This was the reason for his patience. Neither side gained enough of an advantage to end the fight during the resource battle, but both drew blood. Weeks passed. The Forgotten Atlanta Expanse became a map of shifting shadows. Wherever Clayton’s banners spread, Korrath’s influence retreated. But in New Chicago, the heart of Korrath’s machine pulsed stronger. Each failure only sharpened his patience. When the war began, the Rootsite had only four Luminous Seed Awakened, the OG four with Clayton: Torren, Veyra, and Lorn. But war changes people. Kaelin broke through first. Like Torren and the others, he never entered a Genesis Trial. He was following the natural path of Awakening. And finally, he broke through to the 2nd rank in the Awakening ranks. It happened in the middle of a sabotage run, when a Spore Crown Behemorph pinned his team in the ruins. His Aspect bloomed in that moment of desperation, shadows twisting like living smoke as he cut the monster’s throat. A mere Initiate Ember Awakened didn’t have the power to cut through a Luminous Seed Behemorph’s throat, even it was a Spore Crown. Kaelin did it because at that moment, he was no longer Initiate Ember. He was Luminous Seed. Soren followed two weeks later. A siege nearly broke the southern wall, and in the chaos, his Emberblade flared into something more, something bright and powerful... burning through steel and chitin alike with insulting ease. Two others rose soon after in the Rootsite. The 3rd was Harrick, a quiet spear fighter from the second wave of refugees. He unlocked his Luminous Seed core defending the west wells. Lorn’s timely healing waves kept him alive long enough to break his limits in battle, gaining access to far more devastating power in the process. And Mirra, another healer with silver hair, reached hers when she held a crumbling defense together alone for hours, her Aspect’s roots knitting bone and sealing wounds faster than the enemy could break them. By the end of the fourth month, the Rootsite had eight Luminous Seed Awakened! Not a great army by number... but enough to make Korrath look twice. The growth of the Rootsite was intimidating. The war changed again when Clayton made the hard choice. No more defensive play. He decided that the Rootsite was strong enough now. They had the fighters, they had the walls, and they had the will. The moment came when scouts returned with news: finally, Korrath had overextended. After months of staying patient, he finally rushed. This was the opportunity that Clayton was waiting for in months, and he was ready to pound. Korrath’s forces were split between the Expanse and a massive construction in New Chicago’s outer ring. A Nexus Engine. If it came online, it would feed his biomechanical heart with more power than any Verdant Lord could match. Clayton didn’t call a council this time. He walked to the center of the Rootsite and spoke. "It’s time," he said simply. "We don’t wait for Korrath to knock. We take the fight to his door. The last door". The cheers rose like fire. The war was hitting a crescendo. Every warrior with a brain could tell that the climax was approaching, the moment that would decide if this Rootsite had a future or would become buried in the past. The slow war had slipped away the weak and tempered the strong. The Rootsite was no longer just a cluster of survivors clinging to the edge of a ruined city. Now, it had become a fortress, a living spear of green in a wasteland of steel and ash. Korrath had underestimated it. At first, he had seen Clayton as nothing but a small obstacle to be crushed when convenient. But Clayton had played the long game, turning every raid and every skirmish into a whetstone for his people’s strength. All he needed was to start. Once Torren motivated him and he started taking his Rootsite serious, everything fell in place like brick tiles in a building. Yes, the war had taken its toll. Food was scarcer now, and every wall bore scars of assault. But in the cracks of that hardship, something else had taken root... unity. The eight Luminous Seed Awakened were no longer just warriors; they were the shield and sword of an entire people, a new faction. And now, with Korrath’s Nexus Engine in its final stage, both Verdant Lords knew the same truth... the next clash would decide everything. Preparations began at once from both sides. The last thing they wanted was regret in their last moments, thinking that if they did just a bit more, maybe they would have survived. They wanted no regrets, and so they gave it their all. Harrick and Kaelin mapped the fastest routes toward New Chicago without drawing attention. Veyra tested new arrowheads infused with concentrated Genesis Embers, each shot meant to pierce even Korrath’s heaviest plating. Mira stocked her satchels with every healing graft she could prepare. Clayton didn’t waste words. He trained, sparred, walked the walls, and practiced even more with his unique Aspect. Every fighter he passed looked him in the eye. None flinched. They night before they left, Clayton stood in the high garden at the heart of the Rootsite. The vines swayed softly in the wind, glowing with the green light of the Heartseed. He rested a hand on the bark of the old ironwood tree there. "Tomorrow," he said under his breath, "this ends". Somewhere far away, in the heart of New Chicago, Korrath felt it too. The biomechanical Lord looked out over his metal city, his mechanical heart beating steady. "Come then, Verdant King," he murmured. "I’ve been waiting". ... The first sight of New Chicago stopped even the most hardened fighters in their tracks. Yes, they’ve been at war with the Lord of New Chicago for months, but it was a war fought at the fringes. Apart from the occasional raids, none of them have truly entered New Chicago directly. Not even Kaelin, not even Clayton himself. New Chicago... it was not a city anymore. It was a fortress. A living, breathing machine. Steel towers fused with bone and root. Walls of black alloy pulsed faintly, like veins carrying molten blood. Above it all, the Nexus Engine rose; a massive spire of gears, vines, and glowing cores, each rotation sending tremors through the ground. Korrath’s mark was everywhere. Every tower hummed with his power. Every gate was guarded by biomechanical beasts whose eyes burned with the same cold hunger as their master. Clayton stood at the ridge, the wind whipping at his coat. Behind him, the Rootsite’s strike force waited... eight Luminous Seed Awakened, a dozen Initiates, and the best fighters they could field. Yes, the Rootsite had expanded a lot since Clayton started it. They now had almost a thousand citizens in the Rootsite, but majority of them were not soldiers. Clayton had no intention of bringing them along to act as cannon fodder. To him, it was meaningless. This is a war of the elites. He was sure that he needed only the best of the best of his Rootsite to either win... or die. Torren stepped to his side, Pyreaxe resting on his shoulder. "You’ve seen it before," he said. "But never like this. Never this close". Clayton nodded slowly. "Before, I was just passing through. Now... I’m here to end it". His eyes narrowed into slits, turning ice cold. They didn’t hesitate. They moved, descending the ridge. The ground beneath their boots was littered with broken machine parts, rusted weapons, and the bones of those who had tried before them. At the base of the wall, the first gate came into view. It was not just metal, it was alive. Plates shifted like muscle, cables flexing like tendons. The entrance was a mouth, and they were walking into its teeth. Kaelin’s voice was low. "Scouts are up there," he warned. "Two dozen... no, more". He vanished into the Ashveil without waiting for a reply. Harrick moved up beside Clayton, spear in hand. "Once we break through, there’s no turning back". "There never was," Clayton said. GRRRR! A deep rumble rolled through the air as the gate shifted. Then came the sound of grinding gears, followed by a roar that shook the stones. Then from the shadows of the wall, the first defenders emerged. Tall, jagged, and wrong humanoid machines fused with twisted plant matter, their faces hidden behind bone masks. Their weapons were grown, not forged; spears of root hardened to steel, shields of bark fused to alloy. The largest of them stepped forward. Its voice was a cold, mechanical echo. "Verdant Lord. Korrath awaits. Your path is death". Clayton grinned. "Then let’s see who dies first".