The sunken chamber in the Forgotten Atlanta Expanse was a crucible of chaos, Mycoglyphs flaring like dying stars as the Verdant Apostate's Echoes of Ruin clashed with the Ironblood Remnants' plasma fire.
Clayton knelt by the root cluster, blood dripping from his nose, Heartseed Core screaming under Aspect Strain.
His humanoid form was a wreck; plasma burns torn open, psyche fractured by the Apostate's despair, the insidious whispers that tore at his sanity. But his Verdant Lord form, incomplete yet towering, shielded him with bark and thorns, its green-fire chest pulsing with a fraction of its Echoterra might.
It was the only reason why he was still alive.
'And here I was thinking I would be safe after escaping Echoterra,' he thought, his eyes narrowed as dark thoughts filled his head.
'F*ck the Echoterra!'
'F*ck the Genesis Protocols!'
'F*ck the world!'
