Chapter 154: Farewell and descent
The Rootsite was alive with the sound of laughter.
Children darted between stalls in the market, chasing each other with sticks like they were swords. Traders bartered over scavenged steel and dried roots, the chatter of life rising into the air.
A group of women sang by the fountains while men repaired a section of wall with steel and vine, hammer and root blending into one rhythm.
This was now a common occurrence in Clayton’s Rootsite, a sign that he fulfilled all the promises that he made to the civilians and his warriors when he led the rebellion against Korrath of New Chicago.
It was already a month since Korrath fell, and yet nothing changed. Like most civilians feared and like the conspiracy theories painted it, Clayton, their new Verdant Lord didn’t suddenly change.
He didn’t suddenly change into a tyrant and he didn’t suddenly begin to Lord over them. Rather, he was truly focused on building a thriving community and ecosystem here from the ruins of Atlanta and New Chicago.
In recent weeks, the civilians no longer saw him like before as he seemed to be occupied with other matters, but on their everyday life, they could feel the growth of the Rootsite and the effects of his hard work.
Just last week, a kindergarten school was finally created in the Rootsite.
A school!
These were luxuries that were usually only seen in the biggest Verdant cities, and yet, Clayton’s Rootsite already had one, showing just how much he was ready to invest in the life of the civilians.
The civilians loved their Lord, they sang praises of him every day.
To the civilians, today was just another day.
But within the Spire, behind its closed doors, the truth was unfolding.
Clayton stood at the center of the chamber built at the heart of his Rootsite, his hand resting lightly on the Heartseed pulsing in the core. Its glow was steady, almost reassuring, but his expression was not.
Six figures stood around him: Torren, Veyra, Kaelin, Soren, and Mirra, the chosen challengers. Beside them was Lorn, who was not going.
The civilians had not been told.
Panic would follow if word spread that their leaders were vanishing into the unknown considering the dangers of this world, so only the key figures of the Rootsite knew. And today, Clayton would say his goodbyes.
Yes, after weeks on end of non-stop preparations, Clayton was finally ready to answer the call of the Genesis Protocols again.
Well, compared to Trial I when he was pulled in without his consent, he guessed this was better.
’Beggars are not choosers’. He thought as he turned first to Lorn.
She was calm as ever, her hands folded neatly, though her eyes betrayed the worry she hid from the others. "So, it’s decided," she said softly.
Clayton nodded. "It is".
He sighed and leaned back on his chair. "You’ll be in charge here while I’m gone, you and Harrick. I trust you both."
Lorn tilted her head. "Trust, or necessity?"
A faint smile curved Clayton’s lips. "Both."
Clayton knew that it was dangerous, leaving just the both of them in charge. What if another Verdant Warden Behemorph attacked? What if one of the rival Verdant Lords noticed his absence and decided to launch an attack on his Rootsite?
Afterall, even after he left, the root of his existence will still be left in his territory... the heart of his Rootsite.
If they managed to kill it, he would die even inside the trials.
The what ifs were so many, but at this point, Clayton was already tired of worrying. He already made up his mind.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Lorn could hear. "This place... it’s more than walls and vines now, it’s a home. You’ve always been its heart, even when you didn’t realize it. Keep them together. Keep them believing."
Lorn’s eyes softened, and for once she didn’t deflect with humor or humility. "I will, but only if you promise to come back."
Clayton held her gaze. "I’ll come back."
Harrick stood by the wall, quiet and steady as always. His spear rested against his shoulder, his posture that of a man who lived for discipline.
Clayton approached him next. "You’ll hold the walls."
Harrick nodded once. "I will."
Clayton studied him. "You’ve fought beside me since you broke through, you could have been chosen."
"I know." Harrick’s tone was calm, almost dismissive. "But my place is here. The Rootsite doesn’t need me in the Trial, it needs me at its gates, so I’ll do my best to protect it while you are gone".
Clayton hesitated, then unclipped a small token from his belt, a shard of alloy shaped into a spearhead, engraved with a simple vine pattern.
He pressed it into Harrick’s hand. "Then this is yours. It’s a new artifact that I got recently, let it be a reminder of what we fight for."
Harrick accepted it without ceremony, but the faintest nod of respect passed between them. That was enough.
Clayton found Mirra by the side of the Spire chamber, preparing her satchels. She had already said her private farewells to the healers, giving them instructions, supplies, and reminders.
"You’re ready?" he asked.
"As I’ll ever be," she answered, though her tone carried a weight.
Clayton touched her arm. "You’ve been carrying everyone else’s burdens. Don’t forget you don’t have to carry them alone."
Her silver eyes lifted to his. "If I fall, they fall. You know that."
"I know," Clayton admitted. "But this time, I won’t let you fall."
For a moment, the healer who always smiled looked fragile. Then she straightened, slipping her mask of calm back into place. "Then let’s make sure you keep that promise."
Torren was easier.
He grinned, clasping Clayton’s hand with fire in his eyes. "Told you before boss, anywhere you go, I go. This is just another walk through hell."
Clayton cringed. ’Stop calling me boss!’ He thought.
Knowing exactly what he was thinking, Torren laughed care freely.
Veyra’s goodbye was short but firm. She adjusted her bowstring, gave Clayton a sharp nod, and said, "Don’t waste time worrying about what’s behind us, focus on leading us forward."
Kaelin smirked as usual, his voice light though his eyes burned with excitement. "So we’re finally stepping into the big one, huh? About damn time, the shadows were getting boring."
Soren said little, only touching his Emberblade’s hilt and bowing his head once, but Clayton saw the fire in his gaze and knew words weren’t needed.
When the goodbyes were done, the six of them gathered in silence.
Clayton led them through the Spire’s winding roots and corridors, down into the hidden depths.
The civilians continued with their daily lives above, unaware that their leaders were walking toward the unknown.
The further they descended, the heavier the air became. The glow of the Heartseed Core lit their way, veins of green light threading through the walls.
Finally, they reached the chamber.
At its center pulsed the Heart, a living rift of vines and light, thrumming with power. It was more than a Rootsite’s anchor, it was the gate to the Genesis Protocol’s next stage.
Clayton stopped at the edge. He turned, looking at each of them; his team, his family.
"No speeches," he said simply. "Just this. Whatever waits for us in there, we face it together. No one breaks, no one falls alone."
They nodded, one by one.
Torren grinned, Veyra’s gaze was steady, Kaelin smirked, and Soren’s jaw was set. Mirra placed a hand over her chest, silent but resolute.
Clayton exhaled once, then stepped forward, then the rift swallowed him whole.
BZZZ!
The world turned inside out.
Clayton felt his body dissolve, his senses shatter. There was no sound, no sight, no direction, only a void that pressed in on every side.
Time lost meaning.
Seconds, hours, days? Time itself blurred into nothingness.
Then, slowly, his vision returned.
He stood, or thought he stood on a vast plain. Endless grass swayed under a sky so wide it felt eternal. The horizon stretched without end, gold and green and alive with light.
The others were there too, faint figures flickering at the edge of his vision.
Then time moved.
Not forward, but backward.
’Huh?’
The grass grew tall, then shrank, then became saplings. Forests rose, crumbled, and rose again. Mountains cracked, rivers shifted, civilizations appeared and vanished in the blink of an eye.
Decades swept by, centuries... millennia.
Clayton felt history wash over him like a storm.
He saw flickers of ancient thrones carved in living stone, Verdant Lords standing tall over empires of green. He saw battles between titans that shook the earth, rivers turning red, skies filled with burning spores.
He saw glory and ruin, cycles repeating until his mind spun.
Then, the plain cracked.
CRACK!
The endless horizon shattered like glass. The ground heaved, the sky split open and the world screamed, collapsing inward.
Clayton tried to move, but his body wouldn’t respond. His allies blurred, their shapes vanishing into darkness.
And then, the voice came.
DING!
~----~
[Genesis Protocol – Trial III Initiated]
["Welcome, challengers. The roots of the past await."]
~----~
The message burned across Clayton’s vision.
And then, everything went black.
END OF VOLUME 3, PART 1.