Chương 149: Judah, Part 3

The next few days turned into Armageddon. Knights and Hussars and God knows what else would keep pouring themselves like ooze out of the walls around me every time I made some measure of headway into the tree. They would coordinate ambushes from hidden nooks or try to get me caught in narrow tunnels to stab and impale me. The only advantage I had was I could break out of anything they tried to trap me in. Those nooks were busted into open floor plans, those tunnels exploded as I spanned my arms out.

Whenever there were hordes of them, I crashed through like a tidal wave. I aimed to pour my all into big, heavy shots that maximized area and output instead of ongoing fights, it was the only way I could conserve my strength. The only thing keeping me going at this point were the stray mouthfuls from condensation puddles and trying to choke down disgusting-tasting waters from the various fruits around.

The first time it was out of desperation, having severely dehydrated myself in one of the few prolonged fights I had with them. It was so damn humid I was actually starting to feel the heat. Normally I never really got anything but cold, those Winter days while homeless made it hard for me to get warm. But here, I was stewing, baking, boiling. That made me sweat more and more, and that took most of the water out of me.

That, plus the bleeding whenever the Hussars' blades managed to land lucky shots that cut my face, or my arms through my suit, or my legs or back. I managed to avoid hits to the neck and the rest of my head, but those injuries I received were from the sacrifices I made with everything else. The painkillers Tancred gave me were the only thing tying me to any semblance of time. I knew if I took too many at once it could fuck me up, per his warning, so I usually tried to check the time after a few extensive fights.

This proved to be a terrible idea, as I would be mentally ambushed by the fact what felt like a fight that lasted several hours turned out to be a two minute brawl. It was about the third time I was heartbroken by this kind of revelation that I realized what was really happening. It didn't matter that I could destroy every tree man around me, splitting wood and tearing vines apart. They were trying to exhaust me. Viscum said it himself, there was no stopping me getting to the top.

So they were going to just wear me out, leave me so bled out and beaten that by the time I reached Gleditsia, he'd be able to kill me without issue. But if I didn't fight back, I'd be killed by the tree men. And if I didn't climb, the whole world was going to turn into a big ugly garden. It felt like every single thing with the ADU was this long set of games that always ended in me getting screwed over.

There was no outsmarting them or out-strategizing them at this point, I finally had to just accept that every time I was winning any sort of battle, they were winning the war. Though, that did make me consider something. This trek to the top was still a battle. I could still get my win from it. As I pounced through tree-men torsos and climbed up stacks of their bodies whenever the walls receded branches and knots, it kind of lined up in me that maybe I could play their game a little.

I knew their goal was double-edged. If I end up exhausted, Gleditsia kills me. If I push too hard, I'll snap and I could cause collateral that'd hurt Sam's kids. But that's if I was too locked into whatever frenzy would come out of me. But it didn't have to be that way. I could force a middle-ground. Let myself ride the verge of snapping and tearing the leash off to get the most out of my powers without burning out my brain as much.

There were no nosebleeds or headaches when I gave in while fighting Technofiend or Gleditsia for the first time, so maybe it was the active use of powers alongside the active mind that was straining me. I'd just need something to grab me by the collar and pull me out of the pit at the last second, a signal I could use as a way to hit the brakes before I did anything I'd regret. Had too many regrets stacked up as it was. So I thought of a sound. A simple sound of two notes.

I kept thinking it, over and over, while I stood my ground. I didn't fight back against the Knights this time. Hussars I tore apart simply because those swords were too dangerous. But the Knights were all blunt force. Punches and stomps and kicks. I could withstand those for a while. Soften the blows just enough that they weren't harmful. Just enough to ring my bell and really drill the sound into my head. I wasn't entirely sure for how long I did it after a certain while.

I could feel my phone shatter from a gut punch by one of them earlier on. That meant time was both of the essence, and something I'd never be able to keep track of until this was all over. Each strike also let me build up some resentment, some frustration and anger while focusing on that sound, until I could feel that boiling point finally be hit and the steam filled my body. It was time. I just let go. Senses faded fast. Orientation was the only remaining one.

Instinctively, my body rushed to one of the walls, planting both feet on them. Upright. The wall was just a floor if the... whatever it was was in the right direction. Already forgetting some words. Good and bad sign. I started to run. This was the rush not of a prey-thing in danger, in fear for its life, but the charge of the predator-thing that knows if it doesn't reach the target it will die. I couldn't die. I'll never die.

The tree tried to resist, like all prey does to predators, by growing thick walls and ceilings and barbs and trees and tree-men to intercept. Every single one met the same fate of being struck by fists so loud the air thundered and the walls and floor cracked. My movement didn't end, I was going to tear and break through everything in front of me until there was nothing left. I couldn't even see anymore, all I could rely on was my orientation to recognize that I was moving up.

It was all a blur, bereft of color and barren of anything but the most muted sounds. Not an ounce of pain moved through my body. My... my... I couldn't remember the word, the thing that handles what I do, seemed to be taking up as much as it could to focus on this. Along with those senses went my sense of time entirely. I had no idea how long any of this was. I knew I could only move so fast while being able to run on the wall, if I lept or lunged it would make me fall off and get piled on by...

what would I get piled on by? Right. The things. The things made of... wood. Wood was the word. The things made of wood had continued to chase and chase after me from behind. They were content to think of themselves as predators for me but they were prey and didn't know it. The only reason I didn't do anything to them yet was because they were in a different direction. I had to get closer. I needed to get to where I was going. Where was I going? The... the thing.

It looked like the kind of thing I was, but made of the... the wood for everything except for the head. It had something I needed to get back. I couldn't remember. And I was no longer caring. I was growing annoyed with the mass of wood behind me. I didn't even know what they were anymore, just that they were upsetting just to even know they were behind me. The frustration kept building up over the distance, as the mass grew and grew until it might as well have been the floor itself chasing me. No more chasing me.

I'm the only chaser. There's only room for one predator. I spun on a heel, rearing my arm back and putting... what was it.. I couldn't remember what amounts were anymore. Nine dee pursings? Nine dee pursings. I sunk it all into my arm, turning it with the last bit of conscious dexterity I had to make sure as much force was thrown out as possible.

THOOOM Wood cracked and splintered and tore apart from the force and it kept going down and down and down, the air practically spun as the remnants spiraled all the way down towards the bottom, for a distance I couldn't even measure. Not just because of how far it was. Numbers were failing me. I don't even remember the amount I used. Didn't matter. Still had orientation. I remembered which way was up. So I kept rushing back towards that "up."

It kept going and going, until I finally met a wall so thick that all I could do was just keep running through it, blind and deaf to the world around me as vines and splinters tried stabbing into my body and tearing me apart. I couldn't breathe towards the end, but finally with a KKRAKKK I smashed through, hurtling into the air for a few seconds before my body reoriented to the proper directions of "up and down," and I fell to my feet. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The first thing in my blurry vision was the thing. With the head like mine but with the wood body and emitting from it a terrible need to kill. But it was prey. I was predator. In one move I could remove the prey, all I had to do was bring my fist back again and-"LEO!" The sound I was waiting for. Two voices. Young voices. It all came back to me at once, sight, sound, smell, sensation, sentiment, it all painted the picture in front of me of the room I was in.

A realization that I might as well have just blacked out for an untold amount of time. The first thing I noticed was the leafy canopy above and all the wide, house-thick branches stemming off from every side. This was the top of the Platanos. The size of a stadium. Shaded by the trees. In the center was this... it almost looked like a wine glass, the shape of it, but scaled to immense size. Growing from the top and hanging overhead was one of those Wyrdwood hearts. Massive. Easily the size of a curled-up grown man.

Pulsing and throbbing and thudding. Sitting in that wine glass-shape was Master Sequoia, roots burrowed into his midsection, shoulders, and neck, staff in hand. Flanking either corner of the glass, which I now realized was likely the Throne, were two cage-like bulbs. Inside either bulb I could see a child. Samara and Samuel. Both trapped. Exhausted-looking. Emaciated. If I had swung then and there they would've likely died from the impact.

They moaned and cried out my name, grabbing at the bars of their wooden cages and reaching their small hands out to me. The sight sent a chill through my body and caused every nerve across my back and arms to fire. But before I could act, another voice broke the silence.

"Hercules!" Gleditsia, and by the time I was able to look towards the source, he was already swinging a sword the size of a car at me. Flinging myself off to the side, he left a deep gouge in the floor. He simply let go of the sword, letting it "melt" and fill the wound he made.

"We'd been waiting here for days!" He shouted out, arms spanning wide.

"I was so worried you wouldn't make it in time for the transition, but you actually still made it just early enough that we have time to play! And wow, you don't even have your mask on. I knew what you looked like already, but seeing it in person feels so different!"

"Gonna kill you-" I grunted out, before putting two wide craters in the floor as I hurled myself towards him. As I careened through the air, vines and roots shot from the floor to entangle and yank me back to the floor. Gleditsia clicked his tongue, metronoming his finger from side to side.

"You aren't doing anything of the sort, Hercules. Up here, in proximity to my own heart I'm simply too powerful." He gestured to the gigantic heart by the throne, a childish glee on his face.

"It's so potent that Master Sequoia can barely even focus right now! It's mostly just you and I, and the little ones up here. Well, Agent Richmond and Hidalgo, and his wife, too, but they're busy down further in the trunk dealing with your friends."

"My-" I grunted out, struggling to rip myself free from the roots.

"They're here!?"

"Your associates arrived... yesterday morning, I believe? They took an expedition into the tree after you cleared out so much of it in order to find Agent Richmond and Hidalgo. Those two decided to go intercept. I warned Richmond that it may not be a wise idea for her to go, but she was insistent that the Wyrdwood blessing we gave her made her able to focus on keeping the region disconnected meant she'd be a menace to your friends. They've been fighting for quite a while now."

Gleditsia's glee expanded into a fully reptilian grin, teeth bared.

"I'm mostly just interested in waiting for them to be killed so that you can be the last of your group to die. As much as I'd love a duel, we need to be timely about things and make sure there are no potential interruptions." Wasn't happening. I couldn't let myself dig into that feral state of mind again, but here and now, I could force it out. Quercus was, from what I could tell, physically stronger than his son.

And I was able to punch hard enough to shear his skin off from just the force of my blows when he was blocking me. I could afford the headaches and nosebleeds for a few minutes. I forced as much imagery related to things shattering on impact from great falls and bridges giving out under immense weight into my mind as I yanked, and yanked, and finally- SNAP The roots and vines couldn't even find time to crack before the force of my swing tore them apart.

My open hand slammed into Gleditsia's side with enough force that it partially cleaved into him before inertia caught up and he went flying across the treetop, slamming into and rolling along the ground. As he brought himself to his feet, he began laughing.

"That's what I get for trying to hold you off when you're eager. I wish I had more I could talk to you about. But if it's a fight you want…" He reached out as Wyrdwood speared out from the ground into his hand, growing and expanding into another sword. One of less car-sized length, it actually looked almost like a normal weapon, sans the thorns growing out of multiple ends of it.

"It's a fight you'll get." A stump from behind him launched him at me, sword braced for a swing. Wasn't exactly fair that this bastard had access to weapons and I didn't, but I could at least compensate. He couldn't dodge in mid-air. I could use a heavier part of my body for a much nastier blow. I never landed a clean kick on him before, this was going to be the one. I dug my right foot back, chambering it as best I could. I then gave it about a second, before tightening my leg to swing it up.

Roots had curled around my foot, but they weren't enough to stop me. But they were enough to ruin my timing so that I couldn't hit Gleditsia before his sword could reach me. My shin slammed into his shoulder at the same time his blade dug into my side. The mutual force of our blows sent us both rolling, my mask flying off my head and landing somewhere out of view.

Even while envisioning as much resistance as I could, Gleditsia was still swinging hard and fast enough that those thorns were able to stab and tear into me, more flying up to my face. I could feel the blood trickling down my side. And speaking of feeling, the throbbing in the back of my head had returned. And I was beginning to smell copper. He was already taking this much out of me and we had barely started. I needed to finish this, fast. Tearing his body apart never got anywhere.

Quercus showed me what a beheading would probably get me, maybe worse since Gleditsia was so much more effici-"Eyes on me!" No time. He was already hurtling through the air, both legs extended towards me. I knew this trick, he pulled it in our earlier fights. Either he gets to hit me, or I try to respond and get caught in a thorny trap. Side movements might get me clotheslined- Only one way to go.

I fell to my back, letting him careen over me before snapping a hand out to grab a handful of that stupid leafy cape of his. Made me thankful my costume didn't come with one. I rolled over while holding onto the accessory and swung down, slamming him head-first into the Wyrdwood. I rolled away afterwards, clambering to my feet. Laughter could be heard, muffled, as he planted both hands on the floor and pulled his head out, the splintered wood tearing and ripping at his face.

Smaller plant fibers were already knitting the wounds together. The branch sticking out of the side of his head grew back out.

"You're still trying to fight me like a superhero," Gleditsia chuckled out.

"You're not one. Neither of us are. We're heroes like the ones of old, but we're not about these colorful outfits or virtues. We use our strength for our ideals." He elaborated, before pointing at me.

"And your ideals are just like mine. A world of horrible violence, without any moral or reason than what we decide perpetuates our interests. Think about it. How many fights did you lose when you were in those slums, hunting the dredges of society?"

"You mean picking on people weaker than me?"

"Their fault for making such ripples in a large pond!" He yelled, the words carried by jubilance in his voice.

"And that's your victory condition. Think of all your battles, Hercules. All of your victories were in your most savage state of mind. You made it here through that savagery. That is the world you thrive in. The world I thrive in. We can make it, here and now." He kept going. Things about monopolies on violence and nature and all sorts of drivel he didn't believe in. Quercus was a performer in that he pretended to be a warrior.

Gleditsia was a performer in that he pretended there was philosophy or insight to his horror. It made me dread how he could just chat away while fighting. But then it occurred to me. If he spent all this time talking, he probably wasn't doing it while thinking. He saved all his thinking for the quiet moments. This isn't a quiet one. So I let him rant. It lets me breathe, and more importantly it lets me figure out what to do. Beheadings weren't an option, going by Quercus.

It would take too long to wear him down with how my head is throbbing and my left eyelid is twitching. There was no orbit to throw him into. But he didn't know if I lacked the curiosity to try. That could get him in an open enough position, but then what would I do? He has no direct weakpoints. The heart. It's huge, but if it's sufficiently damaged, maybe it'd do me some good. But what could I use to damage it? Everything up here is Wyrdwood. He could probably pull whatever I threw away in time....

Unless it was him. If he's in mid-air, then he can't reorient easily enough. But I'd need to throw him hard, probably. Unless... the branch sticking out of his head. With enough force that might just turn him into a walking, talking arrow. Okay. I let myself resume listening to his ravings, see if I could find a provocation for either me to attack him, or for him to come to me.

"And like all animals, we desire to kill and consume. It's our most disgusting trait. But Nemea's told me, personally, that I was proof of how a few unique humans could earn their place by focusing that desire on everything that would impede the Arboreal Senate's return," he blurted out. Good enough.

"I'd ask if you really believe that, but I know you're out of your mind," I called out.

"So I'll just tell you this. We are pretty similar. Just not in the way you think." Raising a finger, I pointed at him.

"Both of us were turned into things, weapons for higher power. Separate from other people because of what we can do, what we have access to. But there's one big difference. And it's not that we fight for different Senates." I took a deep breath. If this worked, I'd have to act fast.

"It's that there are humans who like me. Who want to work alongside and look up to me. You've never had human connection in your entire life. You were born a tool, and you're gonna die a tool, too. That's why you're so happy to kill your own kind. Because to a lazy piece of shit like you, it's easier to get rid of the people who you'd have to work for the acceptance of than to let yourself be lied to that you're not a failure in every way that matters." I grinned, wet warmth trickling past my lips.

Must have been from one of those thorns.

"That's why Sequoia's on the throne, and not you." And in his eyes, I could see the bravado fail away, and what came next would be the death of me.