Chapter 7: The Art of Becoming a Weed

  The forest didn't want me here. That much was clear.

  The "Song" of Aethelgard struck me like a wall as soon as I came out of the Dead Spot. Here it was louder, nearer to the source. My Tier 1 Veil, The Flicker of a Stranger was gripping, yet I could sense the tension.... It was as though I had been holding an umbrella in a gale; it was going to blow inside out before long, and I was going to get soaked in bad intentions.

  I walked slowly, very slowly, my feet made no sound upon the mossy roots probably thanks to my new Egress stat or whatever this system gave me, It was all unnatural to me. I was no longer running in the dark. I was searching a very particular patch of weed.

  Sun-Petals.

  Elara’s Echo had been specific. “Their pollen will mask your resonance.”

  I discovered them a mile inland, growing in one of those patches of rare, dry soil near the foot of a deformed and burnt tree. They were jarringly beautiful; blazing, smouldering gold in a world of cool blues and greens. They resembled small stars which had fallen and chosen to root.

  I didn't pick them right away. I huddled in the shadow of a fern, and I made use of my Kensho (10).

  Show me how you work.

  My perception shifted. the wood which was my lot was a storm of hazy energy - the Veridian Flow surging through the air like sap. But the flowers? They were a void. The Flow went around them, and passed through their petals without touching them.

  One of the blossoms was landed on by a giant, multi-winged beetle. The beetle disappeared at once out of my metaphysical vision. I was able to see it with my eyes, yet my Kensho told me it was empty space.

  "Resonance negation," I whispered, the mechanic clicking into place in my head.

  You are not hiding, you are just fooling the universe that you are not worth paying attention to.

  I reached out, careful not to crush the delicate petals, and brushed my fingers against the golden center of the flower. My fingertips got covered with fine, shimmering dust.

  The Astrolabe chimed, a soft, inquisitive sound. It recognized the material. It understood the intent.

  I closed my eyes and focused on the Veil. I smeared the pollen on my face like war paint that did not work. No chime

  So, I intook the concept. I channeled a stream of Lumen into the Astrolabe, using the pollen as a physical catalyst to rewrite the resonance template I was projecting.

  Don't be a stranger, I told my soul. Be a shadow. Be the wind. Be a weed that belongs in the garden.

  The change was visceral. The buzzing warmth of the Tier 1 Veil intensified. The "flicker" smoothed out. The sense of alienation that I had been experiencing all along since I had come; the sense of being an alien object, vanished.

  [System Notification: Veil of Native Resonance Upgraded]

  [Current Tier: 2 - The Guise of the Traveler]

  I opened my eyes. The forest felt... quieter. The pain in my chest was relieved. I was not out of sight, but I was no longer a nuisance. I was just part of the scenery.

  "Alright," I murmured, wiping the golden dust from my hands. "Let's go see the doctor."

  Descent into madness that was what I felt during my trip back to grove.

  As I moved deeper, the beauty of Aethelgard began to rot. The bioluminescence changed to a calming turquoise to an unhealthy, feverish yellow-green. The air became hot and tasted of copper. The trees here were ancient, their trunks as wide as skyscrapers, but they were weeping thick, black sludge that sizzled when it hit the ground.

  My Egress was the only thing keeping me moving. The ground was alive with enmity, roots were flung out like tripwires and even the ground itself appeared to move and shake. But I was fluid. I was the arrow. I vaulted over writhing vines and slid under collapsing branches, my movement a continuous flow of momentum.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I didn't see any more beasts. The more I penetrated it the emptier it was. The smaller predators had been driven away. This zone was left with only the big players.

  And then, I heard it.

  It was the sound of the world screaming.

  I crested a ridge that was created by a huge uplifted system of roots and peered into the depth of the corruption.

  The Grove of the First Song was a natural amphitheater which was as large as a city stadium. There was a tree in the middle which was a wonder to physics, it was a pillar of white wood, which pierced the canopy, and its branches spread over the sky. But half of it was burnt, necrotic, the leaves withered and falling like ashes.

  The tree grew out of a pool of liquid light; the Veridian Reservoir. The source of the Flow for this entire region.

  And standing in the pool were two entities.

  One was the Shepherd.

  It was just as I had left it in the clearing, small and robed and frighteningly silent. It was floating a few feet over the surface of the pool, and its bone-white mask was bouncing back the tumultuous light. It was physically weak, something that could be blown to the ground by a strong wind. Metaphysically? It was as though a storm in a bottle.

  I made an attempt to center my Kensho on it, to take a reading of the entity which had spared me.

  The Astrolabe didn't give me a number. It gave me a warning. The golden rings of the interface blurred, unable to lock onto the target.

  [Entity: The Shepherd]

  [Magnitude: Unstable]

  [Alert: High Variance. Measurement Failed.]

  "Right", I winced, my temple scalding. "Too bright to see right in your face. Got it."

  Opposite the Shepherd, rising from the Reservoir like a cancer made flesh, was the source of the rot.

  The Parasite Node.

  It was hideous. It resembled a tumor endowed with life; a throbbing bundle of red and black meat, with sores and sharp, crystalline spikes. It did not possess a face, but only an opening, a vertical, gaping maw, which sucked up the liquid light of the reservoir in huge, greedy gulps.

  Risking a scan. I shifted my gaze to it.

  [Entity: Parasite Node]

  [Magnitude: 42]

  The number floated in my mind. Forty-two.

  I did the quick math. My own total magnitude; Horizon (5) + Lumen (7) + Kensho (10) + Egress (12), was thirty-four.

  The gap was eight stars. That was not impossible, in Astrolabe's language, but dangerous. It was denser than me. The parasite was a heavyweight champion, and I was a featherweight with a shinning coat and a bad attitude.

  The fight was an spectacle of total destruction.

  The Shepherd lifted up the bone flute. It did not play a tune, but it blasted out a cascade of white noise. The effect was instant and undeniable. The air compressed, slamming into the Parasite with the force of a freight train.

  The Parasite shrieked, a sound felt in the teeth rather than the ears, as a chunk of its flesh the size of a bus was obliterated.

  But then, the loop kicked in.

  The Parasite pulsed. Black veins shot out from its base, burying themselves deeper into the glowing reservoir. It drew a torrent of pure energy from the world's own heart. In seconds, the flesh knit back together, growing thicker, spikier, more resilient.

  I stood and studying the pattern.

  The Shepherd was attacking with its own power; burning its own soul to lash out.

  The Parasite was healing with the Reservoir; using the local infinite battery to undo the damage.

  "It’s a resource trap," I realized, watching the Shepherd stagger slightly in the air. "The Admin is dumping finite energy into a target with infinite health. It's a losing equation."

  Each time the Shepherd struck it became weaker. Each time that the Parasite healed, it tainted the pool further.

  I stood on the ridge like a spectator of the apocalypse. The smart move? Run. Run now. The Shepherd was distracted. The road leading to the northern Wayline was clear. I might make my escape, abandon this dying section to its doom, and live to hack another day. The war was confined to the Grove; the planet could otherwise survive provided they isolated this region.

  I looked up, toward the north, toward escape.

  The sky above the Grove was wrong.

  The air was filled with heat and wrongness. The weak, turquoise stream of the Wayline which I should have been able to see with my eyes was twisted. It resembled a mirror image in a fun house, and was extended, trembling, and fading away.

  [Navigational Hazard Warning]

  [Local Anchor Destabilizing]

  "Great," I muttered, the realization hitting me. "Just great."

  The Parasite was drinking the juice and soon it may destroy the foundations of that Wayline. The Wayline was alright, but the Anchor Point; the metaphysical dock that enabled the traveling to and out of this place, was falling apart. I would not make the present jump, I would only fall into the abyss of worlds.

  "I can't leave," I said, the realization hitting me like a punch. "If that thing wins, the exit door might get bricked up."

  I wasn't staying out of altruism. I was staying because my escape route was about to be eaten by a tumor.

  I looked back at the reservoir. At the point where the Parasite connected to the pool.

  it was polluting it. I could see the black veins of corruption spreading from the Parasite back into the pool, poisoning the energy.

  "It's just a leech, Hopefully" I muttered, my pattern-seeing eye sharpening, focusing on the connection point.

  The Shepherd was trying to smash the monster. It was trying to beat the virus with a hammer.

  But you don't hit a virus. You cut the connection.

  I checked my Lumen. Full.

  I checked my Horizon. 5.

  I checked my Locus. One Inert Rock.

  Alright, Kaelen," I said, with a slight trembling in my hands. "You wanted a puzzle? Here's a puzzle. How do you detach a parasite off of an infinite power source without getting squashed by the system administrator?"

  I stood up, the Guise of the Traveler wrapping around me like a second skin.

  I didn't have a weapon. I didn't have a spell that could scratch a Magnitude 42 entity.

  But I had a rock. I had a high Egress. And I had a really, really bad idea.