Chapter 138: Uprooted

Korrath was done. He was at his wit’s end. He was beat. His mechanical face showed no expression but his pitch-black eyes reflected the deep emotions that were hidden in their depths... desperation, fear, regret, and anger. ’How?!’ ’How did it get to this point?’ Korrath regretted his actions for the first time in his life. He regretted ever targeting Clayton, he regretted ever taking the decision to finally take the step of high-profile Verdant Lords to thrive. ’Fool! Why did you try to expand?’ ’You’ve always been ok with New Chicago, you were content, why did you have to be greedy?!’ Korrath was the son of a carpenter. In the world of the Genesis Protocols, having a dad who was a carpenter, it was easy to see how messed up his childhood was as his father always had to look up to mercenaries and others to protect him and his family. Korrath hated his father. He hated his weakness, he hated him for being a spineless bastard who was satisfied with hitting nails with a hammer into wood in a world ravaged by Behemorphs. Who cared about carpenters? When his mother died when he was just 9, eaten by a Behemorph, while all his father could do was grab him and run like the wimpy bastard that he was, that day, in tears, Korrath’s hate for the man reached its height. 3 years later, at the tender age of 12, one night, he woke up, took his father’s hammer from his box and smashed his head in. He killed his father. That night, Korrath snuck out of their camp and entered the world. He was destined to die young roaming the wild alone with no guardian, no skills, no power. But then, he stumbled into a mechanic workshop. That was when he met him, Ben... a mechanic, a mentor, and most importantly, an Awakened. "Boy, are you lost?" That day, Korrath’s world turned around. Ben taught him how to fight. Ben taught him how to kill Behemorphs, how to survive alone in the wild, and most importantly how to be a mechanic. 9 years later, Ben died. 21 now, Korrath buried his mentor and ventured into the wild. As a non-awakened, with his mechanic gadgets, he managed to survive alone in the wild for 7 months until he arrived in New Chicago. And that was when he was sucked into the Genesis Trials for the first time. That was where it truly started... power, and the hunger and greed for more power. He survived. He killed, he plundered, he became a tyrant. Now, looking at the viridian human that stood before him, Korrath could not help but chuckle. "What goes around comes around". He muttered. The chamber shook with each heartbeat of the Engine. The ring glowed as sparks fell like rain. Clayton charged him one last time. Korrath met him head-on; blade against root, alloy against thorn, rage against will. Even in his final moments, he didn’t want to go without putting a fight. His pride would not allow it. The clash thundered across the chamber. Sparks blinded, roots tore, steel screamed. Both fighters poured everything left in them into the exchange. But the truth was already carved in stone. Korrath’s chest still bled green fire. His frame sagged, torn by arrows, ripped by spears, shattered by axes. The tower roared with his pain, but the roar no longer commanded... rather, it cried. Regalia pierced through the last guard. Thorns burst from the weapon’s shaft, wrapping Korrath’s newly regrown blade-arm, crushing it. Clayton ripped it away with a brutal snarl on his face. Korrath stumbled. He fell to one knee, his body sagging like a broken pillar. Sparks bled from every seam. His mask cracked, showing the sickly light beneath. "You..." Korrath’s voice grated. His tendrils flailed weakly, collapsing one by one. "You think this world will follow you? You are still... a seed." Clayton raised Regalia, the glow of the Mythprint Artifact casting shadows across the chamber. His voice was steady and cold, filled with a certain desire to bring an end to Korrath. "I don’t want the world to follow me, I don’t’ need it to," Clayton’s emerald eyes narrowed, turning ice-cold. "I want it to survive me." And then, the final strike came down. BAM! Clayton drove drove through Korrath’s chest, splitting the cracked plate wide open. Thorns surged inside like roots, devouring wheels and gears. For one breathless moment, the city itself wailed as gears seized, pipes split, and towers shuddered. Korrath screamed and the city trembled like an earthquake was imminent. It was not rage now, but terror, the pure primal terror and fear of death that every human has. It was the cry of a Lord being torn from his throne. Then his frame burst in a flood of green light. The Nexus Engine dimmed. The beating heart of New Chicago stuttered once... then it fell silent. The war drum stopped. Korrath’s gigantic Mechanosite finally stopped churning with power, finally silenced and overpowered by a more dominant power. And then, silence. The chamber shook one last time, then stilled. Sparks fizzled into smoke. Korrath took one last breath, his pitch-black eyes losing their spark, and then he was gone. Korrath died. Only the roots of Regalia remained, pulsing as they drew in the last fragments of his essence and power. The thorns crawled back into Clayton’s arms, glowing bright as they fused with his Aspect. Clayton stretched as he felt a foreign power surge into his body. The system’s voice whispered like a final bell. DING! ~----~ [Congratulations! You have defeated your very 1st Verdant Lord!] [Verdant Lord Uprooted: Korrath, Verdant Lord of New Chicago, Nexusforge Overlord] [Aspect Amplification Acquired: Verdant Tyranny – Dominion Amplified] [New Authority: Nexus Integration] [Genesis Embers Absorbed: 4,800] ~----~ Clayton felt it. Power flooded his veins, not raising his rank, but sharpening every root, every thorn, and every shade of his Dominion. His Aphid Network flared, threads weaving stronger and tighter. The Rootsite’s pulse expanded, no longer confined to the Expanse alone. It stretched, hungry and rabid toward the edges of New Chicago as his territory expanded. What was once Korrath now became his. Clayton clenched his fist. The roots obeyed his will like muscle, as the city itself quivered at his touch. Metal and machinery cowered, roots climbing over them an exerting their dominance. Korrath was no more. But his power lived on, claimed, conquered, and consumed. Clayton finally pulled Regalia free. The weapon hummed, alive with more presence than ever before. Behind him, the Rootsite warriors stood frozen in the quiet. Torren with his Pyreaxe slumped over his shoulder, breathing hard. Veyra lowered her bow with trembling hands. Kaelin finally slipped out of the shadows, his blades dripping sparks. Soren leaned on his Emberblade, chest heaving with a brutal rhythm. Harrick’s spear arm was still shaking. Mira was pale but she smiled faintly. Lorn stood as steady as stone, roots retreating back into his hands. One by one, they realized what had happened. It was done. Torren’s laugh broke first. It was harsh and ragged, but real. "You did it," he rasped, voice cracking. Then louder, "We did it!" Veyra lowered her bow fully, eyes wet but steady. "New Chicago’s Lord is no more". She sounded like she almost didn’t believe herself. Kaelin smirked, though it wavered. "Never thought I’d live to see a city fall. But well, the city has a new Lord". He grinned. Soren wiped blood from his mouth, his gaze locked on Clayton. "We fought the impossible, and we actually won, hahaha," he laughed, unbridled and free. Harrick planted his spear butt down, letting the clang echo. "And the Rootsite stands," a grin curled round his lips. On the other side, Mira exhaled softly, silver hair glowing in the Engine’s fading light. "I’m glad I choose the right side". Lorn finally turned to Clayton, meeting his eyes. "What now?" Clayton looked around. The chamber was cracked, flickering, bleeding sparks into silence. Above them, the spire trembled but no longer pulsed with Korrath’s hunger. He tightened his grip on Regalia. "Now," he said, voice low, carrying to each of them, "we claim it. Every root, every stone. This city isn’t his anymore. Now, it’s ours." The strike force walked out of the chamber together. Above them, the streets of New Chicago shifted. The tendrils that once lashed at intruders slumped limp. The drones that once hunted the weak froze in place, their eyes going dark. Survivors across the ruins, huddled in shadows, looked up as the great towers ceased their trembling. The reign of Korrath was over. Back at the Rootsite, the Heartseed pulsed bright, stronger than ever. Clayton felt its beat answering his own, amplified by Korrath’s stolen Dominion. His territory stretched wider, the civilians safe under its shelter. For the first time in months, the Forgotten Atlanta Expanse was quiet. Not from fear, but from freedom. Clayton stood at the ridge of the ruined city, watching smoke curl up from the fractured spires. His friends gathered around him, each marked by scars of the epic war, but alive. He thought of Echoterra. He thought of the Old Order. He thought of every trial, every step that had led here. He thought of Korrath’s last words... a world made for teeth. Clayton’s jaw clenched. His eyes gleamed bright green, thorns faint against his skin. "Then I’ll grow bigger teeth," he whispered again. The wind carried his words across the dead towers. And so ended the reign of the Verdant Lord of New Chicago. The Rootsite had not just survived. It had uprooted a throne. END OF VOLUME 3, PART 1.