Lashing tendrils of animated vines erupted from the earth like serpents of wrath, tearing toward the four warriors in a savage onslaught. Peirce reacted instantly—his muddy feet spun mid-air as he flipped over a twisting stalk, barely missing a slash aimed for his gut. His sweat-slicked body glinted under the canopy light as he landed with a low skid, eyes sharp, breath steady.
Beside him, Sniffia let out a hiss, her venom-yellow eyes narrowing. With a savage whirl, she lunged—her claws slicing through the living vines in rapid succession. Their screeches were almost sentient, echoing like shrieks of the forest itself. The air shimmered around her; she moved with uncanny speed, darting, twisting, her form fluid like wind and fire.
Node danced between them, his twin blades flashing in synchronized arcs. One blade parried a vine aimed for his thigh; the other dismembered a spiked tip headed for his neck. His expression was calm but his footing precise, never overextending—he was the quiet storm among them.
Luna was brute force incarnate. Her fist cracked through a vine as thick as her torso, sending chunks flying. She stomped forward with a growl, her crimson hair whipping in the wind, her golden eyes fixed ahead.
Together, they launched themselves onto separate titanic vines that spiraled like highways toward the levitating figure above—Dryad, suspended in mid-air, vines twisting up from the ground like roots defying gravity. His body was cloaked in shimmering green, and around him pulsed a subtle but intense aura.
Luna led the charge on the uppermost vine. She sprinted forward, arms pumping, even as razor-sharp spikes burst from the vine beneath her feet like traps. She leapt, rolled, then surged forward again, yelling with every breath,
"Snap out of it, Dryad! We're all worried about you! Your dad... he's waiting for you to come back!"
Not far behind, Sniffia dropped to all fours. Her body blurred into motion—fur bristling, eyes alight, muscles contracting and releasing like a silver-maned wolf, she was. She weaved between lashing vines, her claws digging into the wood for grip, dodging with terrifying elegance.
Node followed, not as swift, but precise. His breathing was controlled, his steps measured. He read the battlefield like a chessboard. When a gap opened—a momentary lapse in the vine barrier—he didn't hesitate. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled one of his twin blades through the air. It whistled forward, a blur of steel threading through the writhing wall of vines like a needle through silk.
It almost struck Dryad—almost.
But just as the blade was about to pierce the figure's chest, Dryad's arm whipped up. His massive metallic shield was lifted, the blade clanging off with a resounding thoom. The shield obscured most of his face, but beneath the fringe of grey-green hair, one eye glinted with cold fury.
"I forgave you once…" Node growled from his perch, eyes narrowing, "…but this time, you've crossed the line."
Dryad's lips moved, barely audible, yet laced with venom. "You crossed the line first. Not too long ago…"
But before Node could retort—before breath could shape his defense—Dryad vanished in a blur of green.
A sickening thuck sounded.
Node gasped, stumbling backward as he looked down. His own blade—his—was lodged deep in his chest. Time slowed. Then came the blow.
The shield smashed into the embedded blade, driving it deeper. Node's body jerked violently backward. The impact launched him like a meteor—his back arched, limbs flailed, blood trailing behind like petals in the wind. He crashed through branches, cracked through trunks, then cratered into the earth below with a deafening boom.
Dust and splinters shot up like geysers.
Far above, Peirce and Sniffia halted, eyes wide in horror. The world seemed to freeze for a heartbeat as the reality sank in.
"NODE!" Peirce shouted, the word tearing from his throat like a wound.
Sniffia's claws clenched, her pupils contracting. She didn't stop running—but now her expression was different.
This wasn't a mission anymore.
It was war.
Then...
A flashback.
Darkness.
Dryad floated, naked and limp, suspended in a thick, glowing fluid. Limbs motionless. Lungs silent. His eyes closed, but his mind—his mind throbbed with confusion and flickers of consciousness.
He could not move.
He could not scream.
Only sound reached him.
First, a voice he knew far too well.
"Will it work?"
The voice was tired, aged by obsession. His uncle.
A second voice answered, colder, clinical.
"It will. You must have faith, my patron. The boy's essence is rare… sacred. We may not have captured him yet—but his blood is key. The catalyst to liberation."
Dryad's thoughts twisted.
Blood? What boy? Liberation from what?
Was he… kidnapped? Was this a dream? A nightmare cloaked as science?
He tried to move again. Muscles screamed in silence.
Many days later...
A familiar, disembodied voice echoed through the void, calling his name again and again.
"...Oshoshi... is that you?"
The name broke from his lips before he even realized it.
Faint, breathless.
Then the pain started. His body began to shake uncontrollably—like a seizure. In the tube, bubbles swarmed. Sparks of ancient sigils blinked around him. His nerves burned like fire under his skin. He heard them again—murmuring just beyond the glass.
"Compatibility is confirmed across all physiological markers."
"So why does the subject reject the bond?"
"Perhaps the soul has not surrendered. Force will be necessary."
But something inside him snapped.
His closed eyes glowed from within.
And then—explosion.
The glass cracked. Then shattered.
A shockwave burst out, jolting Frankenstein and his underlings to full alert.
Dryad launched from the chamber—eyes still blind, but glowing with wild, ancient power. He dived for his shield, half-buried beside a moss-covered statue, and snapped it onto his arm as energy chains lashed toward him.
He tore through them.
From the smoke, a hunched creature exhaled black fog, choking the air. Dryad hurled his shield—cutting through the cloud and slamming the beast back.
Another charged in—a massive, round-bodied brute that laughed as it swallowed a log whole, then curled into a spinning ball of fat and teeth. It rolled at him like a boulder.
Dryad leapt, flipped midair, slammed down hard—only to be caught by a Forest Nymphs there, their eyes hollow, roots for limbs. They slashed.
He bashed them back with his shield.
Then—
A cry.
Then, with a final glare, he vanished into the glyph—leaving them stunned,
and the battlefield humming with the silence he left behind.
---
Back to the Forest of Giants
The earth was still trembling from Node's impact.
Splintered trunks fell like dying giants. Dust lingered in the air. Peirce dashed through falling debris, calling out—his voice raw.
"NODE! NODE—"
He dropped to his knees beside the crater. Node's body was barely recognizable—blood-streaked, eyes half-lidded, blade still lodged in his chest.
Peirce stared. His breath hitched.
Sniffia landed beside him, panting. She didn't speak at first. Her hands hovered, trembling over Node's shoulder. Then she muttered:
"...It's too quiet…"
Luna, meanwhile, didn't stop.
With a roar of fury, she launched herself straight at Dryad, who was still climbing from where he'd landed. Her fist—wreathed in raw kinetic energy—punched forward.
CLANG!
Dryad's shield flashed into existence. The impact sent both of them flying in opposite directions. Trees snapped as Luna crashed to the earth.
Back at the crater, Peirce leaned closer.
He whispered, barely audible:
"Don't go. No… no, not like this…"
Tears spilled, unashamed, down his face.
Sniffia sniffled, her claws curling into the dirt.
She looked at Node.
Then at Dryad—miles away but still standing.
She rose.
And with a cold, venomous hiss, said:
"Death always takes… but this one… this one, I will take back."
And she bolted.
Like a silver arrow through the dying forest, she shot toward Dryad—sprinting so fast the air cracked behind her.
Peirce didn't move. He couldn't.
His vision blurred as flashes of memory played behind his eyes.
—Node, training with him in the Forest of Giants.
—Node, standing beside him when they were captured in the City of Bounty Hunters.
—And then, Vanilla's memory—sudden, vivid—her smile blooming through the haze like sunlight breaking through stormy clouds.
"It was never your fault though…"
No…
It was.
He had failed.
Vanilla. Node. He couldn't save anyone.
His fists clenched. Nails dug into his palms.
He was trembling.
But he didn't rise.
He stayed there—still—while the vines stirred in the wind, curling like they recognized what was coming.
Dryad's figure began to glow, faint at first, then pulsing with a fresh, volatile surge of unnatural power.
As the storm gathered, the camera lingered—on Peirce's broken expression,
Sniffia's blazing sprint and Luna's brute strength, muscles straining against the mounting shadow—
—the shadow of Dryad, raising his shield to meet the two.
And in the silence between heartbeats, the forest held its breath.
Because this time,
It wasn't war.
It was grief.