Regrowing a body of Ursoc's proportions from an apple-sized patch of tissue evidently took a long time.
Well, long wasn't the correct term. It wasn't instantaneous. It wouldn't take months or even less so years. There wouldn't be any point otherwise.
But it required a good week and a half of constant monitoring and multiple daily interventions.
It wouldn't be strictly necessary, but much of my time was spent perfecting the floral womb. So those were unneeded, but I didn't want something to go catastrophically wrong.
Its primary function, while highly complex for a seemingly straightforward result, wasn't all I focused on after all. Like a phone, it had other functions.
Yet most of that had been on putting a stop to instability. No one wanted a faulty result, even more so with anything touching biology.
The worst-case scenario wouldn't just be a big boom if it goes wrong.
I know what happened to those goblins from the Grimtotem information network after the greedy green midgets joined the Horde.
I didn't want a scenario like that, even without their sliminess and why they were killed on sight in our territory. The purge of Winterspring from them comes to mind.
This was why each womb had a very basic central nervous system.
They had distinct reactions to varying options that generally involved putting the subject's body in and out of biological dormancy.
If worse came to worst, it started a body-wide apoptosis, cellular suicide. It was very dangerous, and I couldn't be there all the time.
Almost nothing was more active than this besides the passive action taken to ensure proper development.
It was basic and had no real intelligence, and its learning potential was abysmal beyond what I put into it.
But it was more than enough for its purpose, and who would want such a construct to have a mind?
Dumber sometimes was better.
It wasn't like the thousands of plants and fungi that were manned by treants in some shape or form who needed to be across Hollowmaw.
Traps, bio-machines–simple mechanics truly–doors, elevators, and beyond.
There were a lot of positions such spirits could take that required cleverness but not a full-blown fifteen years of education in magic and biology.
Many were born as byproducts of all the magical energies in Hollowmaw. Or unfit to be a companion for several reasons, and they were plenty a pack of affinity first.
Obviously, we didn't dispose of them or abandon them. They had usages and were happy to make their environment thrive by any means necessary.
If anyone found someone to bond with, that was for the better, but they were content to merge with the Goldilocks and vibe.
But for the floral wombs, at certain points, the intricacy of complexity required the beauty of simplicity.
And it worked perfectly. As was the proceeding of Ursoc's rebirth.
It was the time of the day, and I stood over a smaller version of him with the somehow perfectly sized titansteel bear claw gauntlets held by roots and connective tissues.
His spirit was resting within–with willing enthusiasm, he went in–and any random person with a modicum of mana sensitivity could immediately tell that something powerful and ancient was there.
It influenced the growth, while the Claws of Ursoc formed a vital link. It turned what I created from an imperfect copy into the bear demi-god himself.
It was a chimeric mixture of flesh and blood from Ursol, Orsonn, and Kodian. It was as close as I could get it. But it wasn't from Ursoc, and now it was.
It was fascinating, truly. I wouldn't call it possession so much as total rebuilding of the host to fit the soul—kinda the opposite of a regular birth.
It wouldn't have been possible–or gone as smoothly and energy efficiently–if I had just used his progeny or my teacher's pure tissues.
Wild Gods' cells were supernaturally resilient, and while adaptable, they resisted outside interference, particularly if the aim fundamentally altered them.
But I succeeded, which meant the Mighty Bear had the entirety of his might at his beck and call when he was ready.
His comeback would be very soon.
He wasn't a fetus, far from it. This stage ended on the third day. He was in the growth stage of late cubhood.
Still, right now, he was smaller and weaker physically compared to what he should be when fully matured.
Not that he wasn't bigger and more muscular than my teacher or me and hadn't the strength and the skills to crush either in a fair fight.
His title wasn't hot air, not that it would put me down. But by the ancestors, I had no chance of winning with might and martial art.
Magically, he was in top shape, though. That was the entire point of the floral womb, and it was the most important part. It was also one of Undrassil's roles to be a shot of energy.
He wasn't a shaman like his twin brother. He was not wholly inept at magic; he was inherently magical.
It was his lifeblood. He just was unskilled with most stuff in comparison.
The last few days would consist of finalizing his coming growth spurt, passing his body from teenager to adult. It was roughly a fourth of his current weight added.
Then came the unweaving of the sleeping spell powered by the World Tree over him. It was optional at this point, but having the body still was favorable by a lot.
After all, the Bear of Might was all done and ready already, just not fully grown. Cute as having a mini Ursoc might be, it was undesirable.
Adding to that, a younger body with raging hormones–I spoke from experience–for a boisterous and prideful demi-god not known for self-control was inviting chaos.
He wouldn't stay put for one second more, and I would be hard-pressed to wall it logically and emotionally.
When he woke up, he was out, and he would be out for good.
The rest was semantic and a lot of celebration.
But as the ironic saying of Earth, you don't sell the bear's hide before killing it. It was equally valid.
Be that as I may, my cynicism, for once, didn't eclipse my elation. His rebirth was assured; not even my death would stop it.
"By the Bear Lords, I can hardly wait…" I muttered, breathing in the room's sweet-smelling yet humid, warm air.
It needed to be, well, not the smell, strictly speaking; it was my preference, but floral wombs were demanding.
They weren't delicate little flowers; they wouldn't die if I breathed on them wrong. It had various traits to make it as resilient as possible.
But it wasn't a reason to have an inferior environment; a minor inconvenience for me was unimportant.
'Time to work.' I thought as the clawed tips of my bestial finger carefully trailed the stem.
I lifted them, and seized up briefly when the neural convergence began with Groot. I took deep breaths, my heart palpitating from the shift.
It was like getting shocked by ten thousand of volts as the roots merged with my nerves—the portion of the spine a bit further down where my brain began in particular.
It was in the experimental phase born of my advancement, and it wasn't exactly necessary to use the floral wombs.
It pushed symbiosis to the utmost or tried to at the very least.
Then I touched the stem again, and the roots joined as well.
In response, like an eager puppy, tendrils latched, and the living cloning vat gave me all the information I demanded, with Groot improving the translation for the vegetal part.
The tendrils were also of flesh and, with a flex of magic, fused to the tip of my fingers, connecting to my nervous system.
This, put together, let me fully grasp what was happening in greater detail than a regular magical scan.
Well, without splitting my focus. It immensely helped me multi-task.
From that, I knew Ursoc was well: no abnormal brain activity, his heartbeat, blood pressure, and various hormonal and nutritional values were on point.
'Nothing out of place. Good.' I hummed, and Life and Nature mana coiled from my paw and was sent straight to the flora womb and traveled to the sleeping Mighty Bear.
I wasn't dumping energies, but it wasn't fundamentally different; I was just precise where it was to go. The supernatural growth mainly came from me, and it was no easy thing.
Regardless, my work was to be done, and I couldn't be distracted.
And my work of biomancy went on for half an hour until I sensed something happening. Something that sent all kinds of blaring alarms in my mind, but it wasn't from Ursoc.
It was faint at first. It almost went unnoticed, and it would have if I weren't in neural convergence and partly connected to the World Tree.
I almost could believe it was the normal biological cycle of Undrassil, a minute loss in energy as it used it elsewhere, for example, growing.
The World Tree was heavily monitored, and those events were relatively common. It was young, a clone of Nordrassil, it may be.
But this was different; it grew in intensity and continued without end. Rage would do little to explain what I felt with the confusion and fear of what I was getting.
However, one thing was sure: I wouldn't let it continue.
It was as if something was sucking Undrassil's very life essence, and as I closed my eyes and felt the World Tree, I spotted the source.
It was among the roots above.
My focus on the Bear of Might shifted to them as I let go of the floral womb and disconnected with Groot. Not even a droplet of blood seen as the root left my nervous system.
I shivered from the sensation… It was experimental for a reason.
Without waiting, I speared my clawed paws in the ground, straight into a root as everything parted, giving me complete access.
My senses zeroed in; sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch vanished as Undrassil, and I shared senses for three seconds that felt like hours.
The anomaly was beginning on the highest bundle of roots above.
And it went higher and higher. Then it veered far to the West until it ended at the edge of Felwood–the name sticking even if it was purified–and Ashenvale sticking closer to the mountainside.
I understood the scale. It didn't shimmer my fury. How I didn't notice it until now, I had no clue–I had, and it pissed me off more–but it was there.
It was unnatural trying to appear as natural, and it almost fooled me right there. It appeared almost exactly like the mostly dud stolons, so great was the fabrication.
It was not of the Void, Fel, Death, or any other undesirable force. It wouldn't have been possible with the Goldilocks.
It would have detected either of them. And that was within counting other measures set in place. In that way, it was relieving.
It left one possibility. If that didn't feel distinctively druidic from the beginning, it made it as obvious as possible.
It wasn't trying to hide what it was.
And it was strong, very strong, and it wasn't alone. It was coordinated, methodical, and had a level of skill very few had.
I let go, and my every sense slammed back on my vengeance with a splitting headache purged away the next instant.
My blood boiled, my heart slammed against my ribs, and my breath was harsh as a single scenario flashed and latched itself in my mind like fleas on dense fur.
Fandral Staghelm. It clicked. It couldn't be anyone else, certainly not Malfurion; the mere idea was ridiculous.
Be that as it may, my anger wasn't focused on Fandral alone. It wasn't aimless.
The Archdruid wasn't blameless. He was asleep, fighting the Nightmare, and appointed that bastard against my wish and his mate's unsaid one.
Tyrande, for all her faults, wasn't soft to her subordinate. And she got better in the last four years since our first interaction.
But I wasn't of the mind for a mental diatribe about the secondhand Archdruid. He was a piece of elven trash whose boundless pride and hate grew ceaselessly.
I needed to put a stop to this, and alone, I couldn't.
I slammed the ground with my right paw, and the soft green and blue bioluminescent light became a deep blood red. Like a wave, it spread to all, gaining traction as it did.
It was an alarm, but before I could continue, I heard a wet ripping sound followed by loud coughing and something heavy landing on wood.
"No…" I growled and swore as my ears flicked and my tail lowered. "Of course…"
"I'm alive once mo-! Why is my voice so high and the ground so low?" Ursoc, the Bear of Might, let out in confusion, then coughed again.
My answer came sharp with all the anger evident within, "Ancestors fuck! The enchantment keeping you asleep was ripped apart! Fast! Come! Someone is draining the World Tree of its life force!"
And his answer mirrored mine.
"What?! Who dares! Lead me to them, and I shall maul them, young Ohto!" A smirk couldn't help but come over my muzzle, but it was short-lived as a deep groan echoed.
The kind you heard when a large tree fell multiplied a thousandfold. It was so loud my ear rang, and I felt it in my bones.
I didn't wait anymore. The three doors keeping my laboratory sealed slammed open one after the other, and I was out soon after.
The pearlescent roof of false stars and moons was a carmine hue bathing the movement below in its light as the evacuation proceeded.
The pulsing beat of the World Tree was unrhythmic, and the energies flowing in the veins, like the xylem and phloem, were inverted.
The kaleidoscopic light below the bark was rapidly dimming.
My sight was turning red, and the electric sensations of my instincts were roaring, but I held it off for now.
Furbolgs, kobolds, taurens, and night elves were moving in drove as none understood why the alert was on. I was going to put an end to that mystery.
Shifting to a bloodwing bat, I leaped into the void, hearing the heavy footsteps of Ursoc as I flew to the most echoing part of the den capital.
It was specially designed for announcements, and in normal times, I would stand on the podium. The situation was different here, and I became a furbolg again, my claws holding me steady to the side.
Hundreds of eyes locked on me, and hundreds more were shortly to do the same.
A subtle shapeshift lengthened and widened my vocal cords, adapting them like those of a bat, if a heavily modified one. The winds would carry my voice, but it was no reason to be quiet.
"This is not an exercise! I repeat, this is not an exercise!" I hollered at the top of my lungs so hard it hurt, but I didn't care.
Then I continued, my voice unwavering and hard.
"Undrassil's life, nay, very existence, is in peril! I need the strength of every shaman, druid, and able caster to hold on to its roots, branches, and leaves to fight the leeching current!" Hundreds did as I said in the blink of an eye, and like a domino effect, more followed.
Furbolgs shamans, kobolds with the Touch of Nature, warriors and farmers alike, taurens, night elves, druids, treants, and I even caught sight of Liande with other Ancients.
It didn't matter who they were; they worked as one, and the visible flow of energies began to slow down.
"Bear the weight with your might! Work together with your wisdom! Endure the strain on your mind and body! For the ancestors, for the Twin Bears, for the Wild!" I reached a crescendo, and thousands answered my call.
First it was furbolgs, then kobolds, next were taurens and last kaldorei. Though it was by the majority, but they were pretty much synced in their roars.
"FOR THE WILD!"
They all decided to follow the roles and hold onto the World Tree. Yet the flow didn't stop. It was at a snail's pace now, however.
But it didn't stop; we didn't have the momentum, and everyone helped, even the cubs. They would die for the cause. It was as noble as unacceptable.
No matter; I would put a stop to it before then. I morphed into a bat again—my destination, the unnatural bundle of roots.
My gaze locked with the Bear of Might's approving one for the briefest of moments as he joined in the communal effort.
*
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