Chapter 47: Pulse of the Earth

Chapter 47: Pulse of the EarthClayton staggered through the Forgotten Atlanta Expanse, each step a defiance against the pain carving his body. Plasma burns scarred his thigh and shoulder, his bark-armor flaked to ash, and his Heartseed Core flickered like a dying ember. The Verdant Lord form had saved him from Commander Drayce’s Voidstar Crucible, but it had drained him to the edge of collapse. Roots coiled around his legs, gentle, the Expanse’s sentient pulse urging him east. The Verdant Armistice Network’s cryptic message; "Seek the Pulse Beneath. The Earthcore Calls" burned in his mind, a lifeline in a world that wanted him dead. "Earthcore, huh?" He muttered, spitting blood, his dark humor a thin shield. "Better not be another damn centipede". Something told him that the Verdant Armistice Network was another aspect of the system. He didn’t trust the system, but no matter how much he hated to admit it, he knew that the system was the only reason he survived Echottera. The system was the anvil where trial candidates are forged into swords. And this was why Clayton followed. His Regalia of the Verdant Warden pulsed faintly in his grip, spear form ready, Mycoglyph gauntlet synching with the Expanse’s roots. His Sovereign Bloom regenerated his wounds, too slowly, his Genesis Embers nearly spent. He needed fuel, and fast. The Ironblood wouldn’t stay down long. Drayce’s gray eyes, that Null Crown blade, they’d hunt him again, and he’d be damned if he faced them broken. The air thickened, heavy with Ember density as he neared a sunken plaza, its cracked tiles overtaken by bioluminescent moss. In the center stood a shattered fountain, its basin choked with roots that glowed faintly, like his veins. The Earthcore Signal pulsed here, a deep thrum beneath the ground, calling to his Territorial Sentience. This was it; a Rootsite, or the start of one. A place to anchor his Verdant Tyranny, to rebuild what he’d lost in Echoterra. But the Expanse didn’t give gifts. It demanded blood. A howl split the air, not beastly but wrong, a sonic wave that rattled Clayton’s teeth and cracked the fountain’s rim. His Tremor Sense flared, roots mapping three signatures circling the plaza, fast and coordinated. DING! ~----~ [Behemorphs Detected: Sonic Stalkers] [Genesis Rank: Initiate Ember] [Crown Type: Howl Crown] [Danger: MODERATE] ~----~ "Great," Clayton growled, gripping his spear. "Screaming dogs. Just what I needed". In Echoterra, he was used to this. But this was supposed to be Earth! The world had changed so much that Earth was not that much different from Echoterra anymore. Clayton felt frustration bubble within him. ’I guess no rest for the wicked’. The Stalkers emerged from the shadows, lean and lupine, their hides rippling with sonic veins that pulsed like living speakers. Their eyes glowed white, jaws lined with vibrating fangs. Howl Crown Behemorphs, pack hunters who ruled through sound and fear, not fire or thorns. Clayton’s Flame Resistance was useless here, but his Root Web hummed, ready to counter their speed. All the Evolutions and abilities he gained in Echoterra, they remained, pulsing through his body as instincts, nodes that he could tap into for power. He got access to it all after fusing with his Verdant Lord form, some even amplified by the power of his Aspect. They didn’t hesitate. The first Stalker lunged, its howl a focused blast that shattered tiles and staggered Clayton. He rolled, Rootlash Dominion surging, vines erupting to snare its legs. The beast twisted, sonic veins pulsing, freeing itself with a screech that made his ears bleed. The second and third flanked him, their howls overlapping, a disorienting wave that blurred his vision. Clayton didn’t flinch. He’d fought worse in Echoterra’s brutal baptism. He slammed his spear into the ground, triggering Thorncall. Spiked vines lashed upward, catching the second Stalker mid-leap, thorns piercing its hide. It screamed, sonic veins bursting, and Clayton drove his spear through its skull in a simple but brutal move. ~----~ [Behemorph Slain: Sonic Stalker] [Genesis Embers Acquired: 4] [Crown Type: Howl Crown] ~----~ The Embers flooded his Heartseed Core, warmth spreading, burns knitting shut. His Sovereign Bloom surged, regeneration speeding up. "One down," he panted, blood dripping from his ears. Sёarᴄh the NôᴠeFire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The remaining Stalkers didn’t pause. Their howls synchronized, a sonic pulse that cracked his bark-armor and sent him sprawling. Pain flared, his Genesis Threshold spiking. DING! ~----~ [Genesis Threshold: 80%] [Aspect Strain: Moderate] ~----~ Clayton gritted his teeth, Regalia shifting to bow form. He loosed a venom-laced arrow, Spine Bloom sap coating it. The shot grazed the third Stalker’s flank, roots blooming to slow it. He vaulted onto the fountain, vines coiling around its base, Phytoleech Bloom draining residual biomass from the dead Stalker to fuel his next move. The first Stalker charged, sonic fangs bared. Clayton triggered Core Maw, roots around his chest snapping forward, thorns absorbing its momentum. He stabbed upward, Bloodthorn Fang sap flooding its veins. It collapsed, convulsing, dead. ~----~ [Behemorph Slain: Sonic Stalker] [Genesis Embers Acquired: 4] [Crown Type: Howl Crown] ~----~ The last Stalker fled, its howl fading. Clayton didn’t chase. He sank to one knee, Embers knitting his wounds, but his core still ached. The Rootsite was close, the Earthcore Signal stronger than ever, roots guiding him to a sunken chamber beneath the fountain, pulsing with Mycoglyphs. He’d claim it, build his dominion. He’d become king. But the Expanse wasn’t done with him. A new soul pressure hit, not Behemorph but human; sharp, verdant, like his own. ’Huh?’ Clayton’s head snapped up, Tremor Sense pinging a figure perched on a ruined skyscraper, cloaked in tattered green, vines writhing around him like living scars. He scowled. ’Not this again! C’mon, it’s becoming cliché!’ The new guy; his eyes glowed, not with tech but with Genesis, a mirror of Clayton’s power. Twisted, wrong. A Verdant Apostate. One who’d walked Echoterra’s trials and fallen, rejecting the Verdant Armistice. Just like the Ironblood Remnants, he’d sensed his awakening, his Verdant Lord form shaking the Expanse. And he was watching. Clayton’s grip tightened on his Regalia, blood cooling. "Who the hell are you?" he whispered, voice lost in the wind. The Apostate tilted his head, vines coiling, and vanished into the ruins, leaving only a whisper of root and malice. Clayton cursed. ... Meanwhile, Bastion-7. Commander Vrenna stood before a holo-map of the Expanse, red markers tracking Clayton’s last known position. Drayce, face bandaged, core stabilized, leaned on a plasma forge, gray eyes burning with malice and zeal for revenge. Rhea, arm in a sling, stood silent, Joren’s death heavy in her gaze. Torv checked EMP drones, while Sylas uploaded Sigma-4 data. "Once again, we underestimated him," Vrenna said, her mechanical arm clicking. "He’s no rootspawn. He’s a signal. The Earthcore is stirring". Drayce’s voice was ice. "Cells Delta and Epsilon are ready. The Null Lance is charged. He won’t escape again". Sylas hesitated, goggles reflecting the map. "If he claims a Rootsite, he’ll anchor the Expanse. We could lose the Aether Core District". "Then we burn it all," Torv growled, slamming a drone onto the table. Vrenna’s eyes narrowed. "Prepare the hunt. No mercy". The Ironblood’s zeal held, but Rhea’s silence spoke louder. The Expanse was waking, and Clayton Hunt was its heart.