Chapter 165: The first pulse
With understanding comes clarity.
At first, Clayton and his companions were left in the dark, grasping for straws on what the core objective of the Trial was.
But now, they knew exactly what they had to do. They may not know how to go about doing it yet, but direction alone was enough for them as they got prepared to face the first phase.
The battlefield of memory locked around them like a closing fist.
The scar pulsed once, and suddenly the chamber was gone.
In its place now stretched an endless plain of roots and steel as the ground rippled with twisting vines, each vein of life knotted with wires and plates of alloy.
The sky above became a ceiling of green fire and black gears grinding endlessly. And from that ceiling, they came.
Figures poured across the plain, Verdant soldiers wrought of living bark and thorn, their bodies bristling with natural weapons.
They marched shoulder to shoulder with biomechanical constructs, the two armies fused together in an unnatural union. Their steps shook the ground, and their roars melded into a single echo that made the air itself quiver.
The system’s voice came sharp and cold.
DING!
~----~
[Phase I Initiated.]
[Enter the battlefield of memory. Prove your right to intervene.]
[Warning: Pulse integrity will be monitored.]
~----~
Clayton felt it instantly as every thread of connection between his team became heavy, visible in his mind’s eye.
As their Verdant Lord and since they were all connected to his Rootsite, they all had a connection to him. Now, he saw this connection vividly.
The scar demanded unity. If anyone strayed too far or broke formation, that connection would falter and their pulses would weaken, giving the enemy the chance to pour through the gap like water rushing downhill.
His eyes narrowed into slits, adrenaline already surging through him.
"Stay tight," he barked, his voice low but cutting through the thunder of marching soldiers. "We move as one. Break apart, and the trial breaks us."
Seedpikes burst from the ground around him, lancing deep into the soil of the memory plain.
A lattice of green light spread outward from where the seedpikes jutted from, binding his allies into his rhythm. He could feel their heartbeats, their breaths, and their pulses braided together with his.
Then, the first wave hit.
BOOM!
Torren moved like a wall of flame as his Pyreaxe cleaved through the front rank, every swing scattering wooden limbs and molten shards. The heat of his Aspect rolled outward, creating space where there had been none.
Beside him, Harrick set his stance wide, spear flashing like a silver fang as he brutally attacked. Every thrust nailed a charging Verdant soldier, anchoring the line so Torren’s arcs could carve freely.
Soren rotated behind them, his Emberblade burning bright as he intercepted a massive construct that barreled forward like a living battering ram.
The clash shook and rattled his arms, but he planted his feet and shoved back with power, blade sparking as it burned into its steel hide.
Behind them, Veyra loosed arrows as fast as she could draw them.
Whoosh... whoosh...
Each shaft found its mark, an exposed core or a joint of vine and wire, or a skull where fire burst out the other side.
Beside her, Kaelin slipped between shadows, sowing chaos in the enemy’s rear. He struck throats and tendons, leaving enemies stumbling long enough for Veyra to nail them down.
At the center, Mirra stood calm.
Her silver hair glowed faintly, her roots weaving in and out of the group like veins of light. When Harrick’s sidearm buckled, her vines wrapped his ribs and steadied him. When Torren’s shoulder tore, she sealed it before he even faltered.
The pulse never dipped, not under her watch.
But the system did not fight fair.
The second wave came harder. Verdant soldiers swarmed in tighter packs, biomechanical beasts pressed forward with heavier plating, and the ground itself shifted under their feet, roots rearing like snakes to scatter their formation.
DING!
~----~
[WARNING! Pulse integrity unstable!]
~----~
The voice cut like a blade through Clayton’s skull.
He saw the threads of connection strain as Kaelin had darted too far, drawn by instinct to cut deeper into the enemy.
His pulse flickered, threatening to snap.
’F*ck!’ Clayton cursed as he snapped his head in his direction.
"Kaelin! Back!" His roar cracked like thunder.
Kaelin spun, and when he saw the line fray, he cursed. He didn’t hesitate.
Shadows curled around him as he reappeared beside Veyra, their pulses snapping taut again. The enemy surged where he’d left a gap, but Clayton drove roots into the soil, forcing a bulwark up to block them.
The wall shuddered as beasts hammered against it. Clayton’s bones shook from the impact, pain racing through his burned shoulder, but he gritted his teeth.
"No breaks, hold the line!" He growled.
A juggernaut construct crashed forward, a monster of steel plates and glowing cores. It slammed into Harrick, nearly crushing him under its weight. The spear fighter staggered, his pulse buckling, and the system hissed a warning.
But...
"Not today!" Torren roared as he surged forward, his Pyreaxe blazing, and met the juggernaut with a downward swing.
The impact rang like a bell, molten sparks bursting wide in the air as the construct reeled, but it wasn’t enough.
But he had support.
Clayton’s roots lashed upward, binding its legs, and he shouted. "Soren, now!"
Soren broke free from his clash and pivoted, his Emberblade glowing hot white as he rammed it into the juggernaut’s exposed flank.
BAM!
The construct screamed like tearing metal, staggered once, and thenb collapsed, fire pouring from its seams.
DING!
~----~
[Pulse stabilized.]
~----~
The warning faded, but the battle roared on.
Minutes blurred into hours as wave after wave pressed in, each one sharper, heavier, and more chaotic than the previous.
The system punished every mistake with punishing force. If Torren overextended, the pulse strained. If Mirra faltered, a wound went untreated and the rhythm wavered.
But for every test, they answered with the grit and tenacity of veterans.
Kaelin slipped through shadows to drag enemies into kill zones; Harrick speared beasts to the ground so Torren could cleave them apart; Veyra’s arrows stitched holes in their ranks, giving Soren space to burn through their lines.
As for Mirra, her vines never stopped flowing, sealing cuts, reinforcing bones, and anchoring spirits.
Clayton? He held them together.
His roots stretched through every Seedpike, his pulse braided into theirs, his voice the drumbeat of their formation. "Left flank, push!"
"Veyra, clip the core".
"Torren, with me".
"Soren, brace him".
"Harrick, spear that gap".
"Mirra, hold us steady!"
Every order hit, every movement synced and for the first time, Clayton felt it... they weren’t just fighting as individuals anymore. They were one body, one heartbeat, and one pulse.
The final wave struck with fury.
Verdant soldiers towered taller than houses, biomechanical beasts fused into hydra-like forms, and the ground cracked open as living tendrils tried to swallow them whole.
The system whispered coldly as if annoyed by their persistence.
DING!
~----~
[Final surge. Integrity will be absolute or you will fail.]
~----~
"Then we don’t fail!" Clayton’s roar cut through the storm.
Torren bellowed back, Pyreaxe sweeping flames wide enough to ignite the battlefield. Harrick’s spear pinned two Verdant soldiers together, driving them to the dirt while Soren’s Emberblade flashed, severing heads and cores in burning arcs.
Veyra loosed three arrows in one breath, each one exploding into showers of splinters that tore through the enemy.
Kaelin darted behind the hydra-construct, severing its tails so it stumbled while Mirra’s vines lashed outward, not just healing now but binding enemies in place, pinning them for the others to destroy.
Clayton poured everything into the Seedpikes, his pulse screaming through every thread. The ground split wide as roots speared upward, impaling the last ranks and then he drove his will into the soil, forcing it to answer.
"NOW!" He roared.
Their attacks converged... Pyreaxe, spear, Emberblade, arrows, shadows, vines, and roots, every strike hit as one.
KABOOM!
The battlefield blazed green and red, light swallowing everything.
And then... silence.
The memory plain shuddered. The enemies crumbled into dust, dissolving into the scar, and then the ground steadied.
The ceiling of gears and fire dimmed.
Only their breathing remained, heavy, ragged, but alive. A glyph ignited on the far wall, brighter than any before.
[Unity Sustained.]
[Pulse Stable.]
[Phase I Complete.]
[Access Granted: Phase II.]
The glow faded, but the words burned in their minds. They had survived the first test. They had proven themselves not just as warriors, but as worthy warriors.
Clayton dropped to one knee, sweat pouring as his roots retracted slowly back into the soil. His burned shoulder screamed in agony, but he ignored it. He looked at his people.
Torren’s chest heaved, Veyra’s bow smoked, Soren’s blade dripped molten shards, Harrick leaned on his spear like a crutch, Kaelin’s face was pale, but they were all steady. Mirra’s vines still flickered with light, refusing to let anyone falter.
Clayton smiled faintly through the pain. "We’re still here."
Torren grinned, bloodied but unbroken. "Damn right we are."
The scar pulsed once more, deep and low, like the heartbeat of something vast beneath the ground.
Phase II awaited.