Echoterra: Rise of the Verdant King-Chapter 80: Treacherous journey [4]

The team bound Drayvus, the warlord, ash settling. freewēbnoveℓ.com

Lorn questioned the warlord, but of course, stubborn and defiant, the Luminous Seed Awakened refused to answer. Instead, it was one of the Initiate Ember captives who spilled the beans, terrified by Torren’s intimidating aura.

Today, Clayton learned a new facet of his team leader’s personality.

Torren was free and easygoing, funny even, but he could be terrifying when he wanted to be.

Afterall, he was Luminous Seed.

He didn’t attain that level of power by being a clown.

One of the captive guards, trembling, spat. "Scorched Clans are worse. They’ll burn you before you reach the Scorchpaths".

Clayton’s Territorial Sentience pinged faintly, sensing Ashen Covenants’ distant Ember Witches, their fire rituals echoing.

Torren wiped soot from his face, Flamevine Wrath dimming.

"Nice aim, Clayton. Saved us a roasting". His grin showed trust, hard-earned.

Clayton smirked, stowing Regalia. "Just hate bad barbecues". He acted pocketing the Embers, earning a snicker from Kaelin as he eyed Drayvus, the warlord. "What’s your deal, firebug?"

Drayvus sneered, bound. "Survive or burn. Scorchpaths don’t care". His voice was cold and provocative, but his defiance hid fear, Emberstorm Wrath spent.

Veyra looted a Scorched Relic dagger, her eyes on Clayton. "You fight like you’ve seen worse. Ever cross a warlord before?" Her suspicion faded, curiosity growing.

"Plenty," Clayton said, humor dark. "They all talk big till they’re tied up".

Lorn healed Soren’s shoulder, sap-vines glowing. "You’re just too stubborn to die, huh, Soren?" She teased, her calm masking worry.

Soren grunted, softer. "Owe you, Lorn. Clayton, too". His nod to Clayton held rare warmth, his gruff shell cracking.

Kaelin, cleaning his daggers, chuckled. "Alright, Clayton, you’re not half bad". His pride eased, a grin breaking through.

Torren checked his pager, Mycoglyphs steady.

"Scorchpaths are 55 days out. Warlords, Scorched Clans, Behemorphs, even more await us. Let’s stay sharp".

The team nodded, bonds tightening, the Earthcore Nexus’s pulse whispering of dangers ahead.

But then...

Clayton hesitated. "Boss, what are we going to do with these guys?"

Torren glared at him. "Stop calling me boss". Then, his gaze shifted to the captives. "Them? I won’t kill them, so of course, we’ll leave them to fate".

"And yes, I’ll leave them tied so they won’t come after us for revenge immediately".

"Won’t they die then?" Clayton shrugged, glancing around.

"You’re right," Torren nodded. "Tied and defenseless in Behemorph-infested territory like this is basically suicide, but it’s their fate. If they’re lucky, they will survive".

"If they were stronger than us, I bet they won’t even be having this conversation. We would have all be long dead".

Torren looked at the warlord. "This is my version of mercy for them". Then, he grinned, looking up at the tower.

"Of course, we’ll only leave after cleaning off their supplies".

The team did just that.

In the process of raiding the warlord’s tower, Torren noticed that for a while, Clayton didn’t see a word since after that conversation, almost as if he was in deep thought.

"Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about them. Come on, man".

Clayton looked at the team leader. "Boss..."

"Don’t call me boss!"

He chuckled. "Ok, Torren," he hesitated slightly. "That warlord, Drayvus, why did he decide to stay in this Behemorph-infested region, vulnerable and exposed?"

Torren just stared at Clayton.

"Don’t get me wrong. I mean... obviously, it’s safer and even more beneficial to stay in an enclosure like Verdis Hold, right?"

Torren sighed. "You’re really a greenhorn, aren’t you, Clayton?"

He stared at Clayton. "Why did you decide to leave the protective confines of Verdis Hold and embark on a dangerous journey like this one?"

Clayton just stared back at him. He didn’t have an answer.

Torren shrugged. "There you have it".

"Well, listen boy, the world is not a bed of roses. Those guys were not weak by any means. They’ve survived in the wild for months, if not years. They suffered defeat only because they met us, a stronger group. And they were not careful enough".

"Imagine yourself alone against them," his face turned solemn. "You’d be dead. You seem to forget that Drayvus is a Luminous Seed. He’s strong".

"Never fight a Luminous Seed alone. Don’t forget that".

Clayton nodded.

For the rest of that day, the conversation with Torren kept on ringing in Clayton’s head. Finally, he was beginning to understand certain facts about the world 300 years from his era.

’They came to the wild for the thrill’. He thought. ’Or maybe, it’s not by choice. Maybe they were banished from their settlements and factions’.

’It certainly explains the splintered groups of Awakened and warlords’.

’No matter what caused it, what matters is that they’re in the wild. And here in the wild...’

’It’s survival of the fittest’.

...

Ten days into the 6-day trek to the Scorchpaths, Clayton navigated a jagged volcanic chasm, ash swirling under a gray sky.

His Shedskin cloaked his Verdant Lord aura as a scavenger’s rags, Regalia of the Verdant Warden in bow form slung across his back, ready to conjure bone or root arrows.

The Thornshade Dagger, venom-coated and stealth-enhancing, hummed at his hip. His Architect Aspect thrummed, restrained to blend with Torren’s team.

The chasm, a scar of Nexus-driven eruptions, bore Scorched Clans marks; charred bones, a broken Pyreaxe Scorched Relic, hinting at their raids.

The group looked around, scouting the surroundings to make sure that remnant members of the Scorched Clans were not around somewhere, hiding.

Only after that they did relax.

Clayton’s Territorial Sentience pinged, sensing Ashen Covenants’ distant Ember Witches, their fire rituals a faint echo. Torren led, Flamevine Wrath ready, his map warning of Behemorph lairs.

But then...

GRRR!

A low growl suddenly reverberated, its deep guttural echo shaking the chasm, ash flaring. The group froze.

And then, they found it.

A Flameveil Stalker; 15-meter Luminous Seed Behemorph, fire-cloaked, with molten claws, clearly of the Ash crown. It burst from a lava pool, its roar igniting the air. Its fiery shroud scorched fungal growths, Nexus pulsing wildly.

This was no mere Luminous Seed Behemorph.

It was an apex predator of its rank, King of Kings, a veteran hunter stalking the wild leading to the Scorchpaths.

From the sudden tension in Torren’s muscles, Clayton could tell that this was more dangerous than usual as adrenaline surged through him.

"Brace!" Torren roared.

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