X-GENE OMNITRIX-Chapter 38: XGO - 36

(dryad's have knowledge since they came with world tree of centuries)

Sam woke up screaming.

His body lurched upright, sheets clinging to his sweat-drenched skin. The darkness pressed in as he gasped for air, each breath shallow and desperate. His wild eyes darted around the room—familiar walls of living wood pulsing with the gentle green glow of embedded World Tree fibers—but familiarity brought no peace tonight.

The whispers had returned.

Burn it all. Let it rot. Watch it burn.

Not dreams. Not nightmares. Something worse—something real.

Sam stared at his trembling hands. The skin around his fingertips looked raw and blistered, as though he'd thrust them into flames. Yet he'd touched nothing. He reached toward the small wooden table beside his bed, then jerked back before making contact.

The dagger lay there, wrapped in dark cloth. Untouched. Waiting.

Even through its wrappings, heat radiated from the blade. It called to him silently, pulsing with the rhythm of a malevolent heartbeat that seemed to echo his own.

A voice slithered through his thoughts, thick and ancient.

"You feel it, don't you? My gift. It hungers."

"Why now?" Sam's voice scraped against his throat.

"Because tonight, the roots are weakest," Mephisto answered, his words like oil spreading through Sam's mind. "The ritual must begin, my servant. I have kept my promise. Your fire is no longer mortal."

Sam lifted his palm, not even needing to focus. Flames erupted from his skin—not the warm orange-yellow fire he once commanded, but something twisted and wrong. Dark flames laced with writhing shadows, burning with impossible coldness.

"Tonight," Mephisto's voice purred, "you will awaken the sleepers."

Sam said nothing. What was there to say when you'd already surrendered your soul?

Across the sanctuary, subtle wrongness crept through the night.

The World Tree—that colossal guardian whose roots and branches held their refuge together—shimmered with diminished light. Its usual radiance had faded to a muted glow, the difference slight but unmistakable to those who knew to look.

In the gardens, animals sensed it first. Rabbits huddled deep in their burrows. Birds wheeled overhead in tight, anxious circles, refusing to perch despite exhaustion. Even the dryads—ancient tree spirits normally serene as morning mist—clustered along the outer paths, their melodic voices hushed with worry as they spoke in their forgotten tongue.

At the tree's massive base, Elara crouched beside a patch of soil that shouldn't exist in this sacred place. Dark veins spread outward like a spiderweb, pulsing slightly beneath the surface. When she touched the earth, her fingers came away smeared with something thick and black—sap corrupted by rot.

"This isn't natural," she whispered, wiping her hand against the grass with mounting dread.

Nearby, Thorne—one of the oldest dryads, his bark-skin etched with centuries of growth rings—pressed his gnarled hand against the World Tree's trunk. His eyes closed in communion.

"The heartwood speaks of shadows," he said, voice like rustling leaves. "Something intrudes upon the dreaming. The deep roots taste bitterness."

Alex approached from the south path, his purposeful stride slowing as he spotted the gathering. Three mutant researchers flanked him—Ria with her ability to analyze molecular structures through touch, Marcus whose eyes could see energy flows invisible to others, and Dr. Kail whose telepathic sensitivity to plant life had helped establish their symbiotic sanctuary.

"How long has this been here?" Alex asked, kneeling beside Elara to examine the black substance.

Ria crouched down, hesitantly touching the edge of the corrupted soil with a gloved finger. Her eyes widened. "It's... wrong. The molecular structure is shifting, rewriting itself. Almost like it's..." She trailed off, searching for words.

"Like it's what?" Alex pressed.

"Like it's translating itself from one reality to another," she finished quietly.

Marcus scanned the area, his irises glowing faintly blue. "There's energy seepage. Small now, but growing. Like a wound that won't clot."

Dr. Kail placed both hands against the bark of a nearby lesser tree. His weathered face contorted with discomfort. "They're in pain, Alex. All of them. Even the smallest saplings feel it. Something is... whispering to them. Corrupting their song."

Thorne turned to Alex, his ancient face grave. "We have not seen such signs since the Time of Burning, when the world nearly fell to the Old Ones. The Tree dreams dark dreams tonight."

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Other dryads had gathered now, their wooden features twisted with worry. One younger dryad, barely a century old, with spring flowers still blooming along her shoulders, stepped forward.

"The water sprites refuse to emerge from their pools," she said. "They speak of poison in the deep currents."

Alex looked up at the World Tree's vast canopy. For just a moment, the green light pulsing through its leaves flickered reddish before returning to normal.

"Increase patrols," he ordered. "I want every inch of the sanctuary grounds monitored. Double the guardians at the outer perimeter. And somebody find Sam—his fire abilities might help if we need to cauterize whatever this is."

Sam drifted through the sanctuary's evening bustle like a shadow.

He passed others—fellow mutants and dryads—offering empty smiles and mechanical nods. Some reached out with concerned words or invitations to join them, but he mumbled excuses about nightmares and restlessness. None pushed further, though several noted the hollow look behind his eyes, how his smiles never reached them.

He took the long way around anywhere Alex might be.

Each time he glimpsed Alex in the distance—standing tall at the center tower, coordinating their community with quiet confidence—Sam's chest constricted with what might have been guilt. That man had pulled him from the ashes of his former life, had given him safety when the world had offered only pain.

But Mephisto's whispers drowned out gratitude with contempt.

"He's weak," the voice hissed. "A fool. Surrounded by all this power—this fortress, this tree, these god-like beings who follow him—and he chooses peace."

Sam's jaw tightened until his teeth ached.

"He should rule. Be worshipped. Feared. He could cleanse this wretched world with fire and remake it better. Instead, he hides behind walls of compassion and mercy. But not you, Sam. You understand what true justice demands."

He paused outside the training halls, watching mutant children practicing their abilities. They laughed between sparring matches, helping each other up after falls.

His stomach knotted with something he refused to name.

Across the sanctuary, in the laboratory hewn from living wood and crystal, Dr. Kail worked alongside Ria and two other researchers. The black substance had been carefully collected in sealed containers that glowed with containment runes.

"I've never seen anything like it," Ria muttered, adjusting her microscopic apparatus. "It's organic, but not of any lineage I recognize. And it's... changing as we watch."

Dr. Kail's brow furrowed as he reviewed the readings. "The molecular degradation is accelerating. It's breaking down our sample container from the inside."

A younger mutant researcher—Lina, with metallic skin that reflected the lab's soft light—pointed to her monitor. "Energy readings are off the charts, but they don't match any known spectrum. It's like it's drawing power from... somewhere else."

"The Outer Dark," came a voice from the doorway.

They turned to find one of the eldest dryads—Vervain, her wooden form so ancient that moss grew naturally along her limbs. Her eyes held the wisdom of millennia.

"We have seen this before," she said softly, approaching the contained samples with evident dread. "When the veils between realms grew thin. When those who hunger for worlds not their own reached through the gaps between stars."

"You're talking about invasion?" Dr. Kail asked.

Vervain's wooden fingers traced symbols in the air—protective sigils that glowed briefly before fading. "I speak of corruption. Of slow poison. This substance is not merely a thing—it is a process. A translation of our reality into another."

Lina looked up from her readings. "We're detecting similar anomalies at six other locations around the sanctuary perimeter. All near root nodes of the World Tree."

Dr. Kail grabbed his communication crystal. "Alex needs to know. Now."

Later that night, fate brought Sam face to face with Alex.

The sanctuary's guardian stood before a crystalline console, its surface rippling with data and satellite imagery—shadows passing too close to their hidden refuge. Sam approached with hands clasped behind his back, one fist wrapped tight around the cloth-covered dagger.

"You alright?" Alex asked without turning, somehow always sensing who approached.

"Just nightmares," Sam replied, the lie coming easily now. "The usual demons. Needed to walk them off."

Alex turned then, his eyes reflecting the console's light—and something deeper. Concern etched lines around his mouth. "You sure that's all? Your energy feels... different tonight."

Sam manufactured a crooked smile. "I'm fine, really. Just tired."

Alex didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered, searching Sam's face with that unnerving perception that had kept them all alive through countless dangers. For a terrible moment, Sam was certain Alex could see Mephisto's shadow clinging to him.

"We've been finding corruption around the sanctuary," Alex said finally. "Black substance near the root systems. Animals acting strange. The dryads are worried—they say the Tree is dreaming of darkness."

Sam's heart hammered against his ribs. "Anything I can do?"

"Maybe. Your fire might be useful if we need to burn away contamination. But for now, just stay alert. Something's wrong, and I can't put my finger on what."

The communication crystal at Alex's belt flashed urgently. He tapped it, and Dr. Kail's voice emerged, tight with tension.

"Alex, we've got problems. The samples are becoming active. Whatever this substance is, it's not just contamination—it's some kind of transmission medium. Something's trying to break through."

Alex's expression hardened. "Lock down the lab. I'm on my way." He looked back at Sam. "Get some rest. We may need everyone at full strength tomorrow."

Sam bowed his head and walked away, feeling Alex's eyes on his back long after he'd turned the corner.

In the great meeting hall, dryads gathered in a circle, their wooden hands linked. Their eyes glowed green as they communed with the World Tree, sending their consciousness deep into its root network.

"The southern roots report movement beneath the ancient ice," one whispered, voice trembling.

"The eastern forests scream of eyes opening in darkness," another added.

Thorne, at the center of their circle, lifted his arms. "Brothers and sisters of leaf and bough, strengthen the dreaming. Protect the heartwood. The Old Songs must not be forgotten."

Their voices rose in an eerie harmony—a language older than human civilization, sounds that resonated with the very atoms of the living wood around them. The walls of the chamber pulsed in response, green light flowing through the grain like blood through veins.

But as their chant reached its peak, several dryads gasped in unison. The green light flickered, momentarily stained with crimson.

"Something intrudes," Vervain cried. "The heart is threatened!"

Thorne's eyes snapped open, wide with horror. "The sanctum! Someone enters the sanctum!"

Hours later, while the sanctuary bustled with increased patrols and worried whispers, Sam stood alone before the entrance to the World Tree's inner sanctum.

Few were permitted here—where the World Tree's primary roots gathered in sacred communion with the earth. Sam had no right to enter this place.

Yet the roots shifted, parting like welcoming fingers.

"Even now," Mephisto whispered, triumphant. "It welcomes you. Naive. Trusting. It will scream."

Sam stepped into the heart of the World Tree. The air grew thick—warm and crackling with energy, like breathing inside a thundercloud. Massive pillars of translucent root spiraled upward, pulsing with soul-light. Strange orbs drifted through the air like floating lanterns made from captured stars, each one humming with echoes of lives past and futures yet unwritten.

The sound washed over him—wind chimes and whispered prayers and distant laughter all at once.

At the center stood a great knotted mass of wood and crystal, pulsing with steady light. The true heart of the World Tree—neither fully physical nor spiritual, but something beyond both. A nexus where realities touched.

Sam unwrapped the dagger.

The blade pulsed violently in his hand, its hunger now a living thing between them. The air surrounding it grew cold despite the burning heat it radiated. Nearby roots curled away from its presence, sensing the wrongness it carried.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered—to the tree, to Alex, to himself. "But I can't be weak anymore."

He raised the dagger high, its crimson light painting his face in blood.

"Do it," Mephisto commanded. "Let the world scream."

With both hands, Sam plunged the dagger into the World Tree's heart.

The reaction was instantaneous and catastrophic.

Blinding red light exploded outward, devouring the chamber in hellfire brilliance. The dagger sank deep with unnatural ease, as though the tree had always been meant to receive this wound. The heart pulsed once—twice—and then released a sound that traveled beyond hearing:

A scream that rippled through soul and soil alike.

Every dryad in the sanctuary collapsed mid-step. Trees twisted and bent as if in agony. Fissures raced across the ground like lightning seeking earth.

In the laboratory, the sealed containers shattered simultaneously. The black substance erupted upward, forming tendrils that wrote impossible symbols in the air.

Dr. Kail clutched his head, blood streaming from his nose as the psychic backlash overwhelmed his connection to plant consciousness. "The Tree! It's dying!"

Ria grabbed him as he collapsed, watching in horror as the monitors overloaded, crystals cracking under the strain of energies they were never designed to measure.

"Emergency protocols!" she shouted to the others. "Alert Alex!"

In the meeting chamber, every dryad screamed in unison—a sound of pure anguish as they felt the violation of their ancestral guardian. Thorne and Vervain, the eldest among them, withered visibly, their wooden skin cracking as ancient power surged through the network they were connected to.

"Betrayal," Thorne gasped, drops of golden sap leaking from his eyes like tears. "From within our circle."

Alex was sprinting toward the sanctum when the wave hit. The ground beneath his feet buckled. The walls around him cracked. Every plant in the sanctuary convulsed as though in seizure.

His communicator crystal exploded in his hand.

"No," he whispered, recognizing the direction of the energy surge. "Not the heart."

His body began to change as he ran—skin hardening to bark-like armor, muscles expanding with the density of ancient heartwood, eyes glowing with the emerald light of the Tree's deepest magic. The transformation he usually reserved for the direst battles came unbidden now, called forth by primitive instinct.

The sanctuary itself seemed to scream around him, roots erupting from walls and floors, reaching toward the threat like desperate hands.

And deep below Antarctica, beneath miles of ancient ice and stone, something stirred in darkness.

Massive bones. Forgotten titans.

Eyes that hadn't opened since before mankind crawled from the sea suddenly snapped wide, glowing red with flames not born of Earth.

The sleepers awakened.

And in the distance beyond reality's thin veil, Mephisto smiled.

End of Chapter

Don't judge my fic wait till Chapter 40