I had stepped into politics… as a plant.
It was a notion so strange and crazy at the same time that I was left stunned for a long time by the realization.
'I'll be damned'.
As I pondered what to do, another notification emerged from the system, this one unlike any before.
DING!
~----~
[EVOLUTION: SPORE CROWN AVAILABLE]
>Condition: Establish Dominance over Local Faction.
>Subcondition: Integrate 3+ intelligent plant minds.
>Warning: Partial Crown risks Mind Feedback Overload.
>Proceed?
~----~
'Wait… these are the pending conditions from that earlier system notification right?"
But I didn't proceed.
Not yet.
Because I had no idea what it meant to integrate other minds into mine. And if living in the outskirts taught me one thing, it was to never willfully accept anything you have little idea about.
That is a foolish way to get yourself easily killed.
The reason why I accepted earlier evolutions and suggestions from the system so easily was because then, I had no other alternative. It was because then, I was fighting for my life.
The only other alternative to not accepting was death.
I had no choice.
But now, after expanding my territory to over 60 square meters, now I had a choice. I was strong enough to control my destiny now.
And so I didn't proceed. Not immediately, not now.
First, I needed to understand.
The game had changed.
The monsters of the dark still hunted. But beneath the soil, a more dangerous war was rising…
A war of kings.
First it was a war of roots, then a war of growth, and then a war against beasts and monster plants, and now a war of kings.
'Just how many tribulations do I have to face before I survive?'
…
It happened on the twelfth day after my awakening from the Nexus Trial.
The forest had grown quiet; not with peace, but with expectation. My scouts reported no new monsters, no territorial invasions.
The winds shifted subtly. Patterns of light broke in inconsistent rhythms. Even the soil trembled beneath root and seed in anticipation.
Something was coming.
I felt it first through the aphids; an unnatural disturbance in their instinctual hum. Their pattern broke, turned inward, and many fell silent.
That's when I felt the piercing scrape on the edge of my territory.
An intrusion.
Not a beast. Not a predator.
No, it was calculated. Cautious. Whatever was entering, it understood territory borders. It respected them… barely.
And then it stopped. Dead center. At the very edge of my 64 meter square dominion.
I saw it before I understood it.
A bundle of thorned vines, coiled tightly like a snake, grown upright in a humanoid shape. It was rooted, but not bound.
It breathed, through pulsing vascular gas exchange membranes embedded in its thorns. Its presence carried weight, as if the forest pressed inward to make space for it.
It had come to speak.
And somehow, I felt it wasn't afraid of me.
And then…
DING!
~----~
[You have encountered an emissary from a distant assembly!]
~----~
'An emissary?'
I paid more attention to the new guy.
This emissary, he didn't communicate through pheromones or pulse-thread thoughts. No, it used a relay bloom it had grown on its chest, a grotesque flower with twitching lips that spoke with stolen mammalian voice patterns.
"You are Clayton. Crownless lord. Nexus survivor. We have watched you".
The relay flower grinned, then dripped a dark amber sap from its lips.
"I come bearing an offer. From the Thorn Assembly".
It took all my restraint not to flare toxins in instinct.
I replied cautiously through pollen-burst inflection, audible only to turned receptors.
"Speak, but tread lightly. I am not beholden to Assembly law".
'Whatever that sh*t is'. I added in my mind.
The emissary shivered, vines tightening into lattice-like armor.
"Not yet. But you will be… one way or another".
It spoke of territory lines being redrawn, of the Spore Choir's aggression toward root-locked sovereigns, of the Threefold Roots' cold disinterest in lesser growths like me.
And of the Assembly's plans to seed new dominions. With younger kings. Those who had proven strength, cunning, instinct, and who could evolve faster than the old.
The emissary looked at me.
"You have killed a jackal of flame".
"You have survived the Nexus beast".
"You command both light and swarm".
"We offer you recognition. Alliance. Protection".
I felt the tremor of meaning behind the words.
Join us, they said.
Bend your will into our lattice.
Become a warthorn of the Assembly.
Or stand alone, when the Choir burns your roots to ash.
But I wasn't done growing. I wasn't done learning.
And I never bowed.
Yes, I've grown a bit of pride after surviving for so long by my own spite and now dominating a piece of territory with it in this cruel world.
I responded with a low rumble of territorial assertion, roots lacing outward, signaling rejection without direct insult.
"My crown is mine to earn. Not borrowed, not spliced. Tell your Core Bloom I will answer with my own".
The emissary silently stared at me some more, then twisted its relay bloom, turning it inward until it consumed itself, burning in a burst of pheromantic fire.
Then it left. Wordless. Graceful.
A warning in the wind.
That night, the forest went still again.
And somewhere beyond the treeline, a spore cloud shifted direction, moving directly toward my border.
The Spore Choir had heard.
And they were coming next.
I grinned. 'Good. Great. Wonderful'.
'I've not had to fight for my life for so long I was beginning to think that Echoterra has lost its edge'.
I didn't cling to my pride simply because I was a battle maniac and wanted to fight. There was another literal, simpler meaning for my decision to reject the goodwill of the Thorn Assembly.
It's because with more experience about this world now, I learned a brutal truth.
'The most effective way to grow my territory is to kill. Consume. Eliminate. Devour'.
'There's no easy way to power in Echoterra'.
'No easy way to freedom'.
'No easy way to survival'.