Clayton slumped against the root-cluster in the sunken chamber, the Mycoglyphs' glow casting ghostly shadows across his bloodied face.
His Heartseed Core flickered, a candle in a storm, battered by the Ironblood Remnants' Null Lance and the Verdant Apostate's Echoes of Ruin.
Plasma burns scarred his thigh and shoulder, his bark-armor flaked to ash, and psychic wounds from her despair whispers ached deeper than flesh.
'That b*tch!' He thought, mood worsening at the thought of her.
Despite his pain, despite how close he was to dying, there was something to rejoice about.
The Rootsite was his, 100 square kilometers of thorn and ash, claimed with 32 Initiate Ember Behemorphs bound to his Aphid Network, but victory had cost him everything but spite.
"Three hundred thirty years," he coughed, blood flecking his lips, "and I'm still too dumb to die".
The chamber pulsed, the Earthcore Nexus humming with the Earthcore Signal's resonance.
