Clayton stalked through the Forgotten Atlanta Expanse, Regalia of the Verdant Warden in spear form, its Mycoglyph gauntlet pulsing with Earthcore Nexus's rhythm.
His humanoid form, fully recovered, moved with predatory grace, plasma burns and psychic scars gone, Heartseed Core steady at 70% Genesis Threshold.
Behind him, his 30 Initiate Ember Behemorph minions fanned out via Aphid Network; 12 Thorn Hounds snarling, 8 Howl Shriekers slinking, 7 Ash Sprites flickering, 5 Spore Drifters cloaked in mist.
He wasn't just sending them to hunt unsubordinated Behemorphs this time.
This time, he'd lead, his Verdant Tyranny demanding efficiency to grow his dominion.
He didn't want to admit it, but he was under pressure.
After that battle days ago, neither of the 2 factions showed themselves, but Clayton could feel them still lurking. There was no substantial evidence to support how he felt. Call it his 6th sense, instinct maybe, but he trusted it since Echoterra.
