Hyperion Evergrowing

Chapter 7: Echoes and Victory

Chapter 7: Echoes and Victory

To say that Leif didn’t understand what was going on would be an understatement. To say he was pleased with the current happenings would be a gross misassessment of the situation. That fire had hurt. By all rights Leif thought he should be dead, the source of the flames was too far away from his roots for the tree to strike back.

But then, for whatever reason the flames had stopped and presences started moving forward in small groups of twos or threes.

Leif was desperate, what if these presences had more fire? He lashed out, killing all who got too close. Before long seven goblins lay dead, their vitality rapidly draining away. Leif’s bark began to grow back, leaves budding on newly restored branches.

Level up! Class [Juvenile Blight Tree] is now level 7!

For slaying multiple foes of similar level in quick succession you have gained a level!

+1 to [Might] +1 to [Spirit] +5 free points!

The system popped up once again in Leif’s mind's eye. Though he couldn’t read what the messages said he had slowly begun to intuit their meaning. This was telling him that his strength had increased. That was good, but probably not enough.

What could he do? Back when Leif had fought the other tree, at the moment he was on the verge of losing he had received a surge of power. But why? And possibly a more important question, how?

As if responding to his silent question the system popped up more information.

Attributes:

Free: 19

Might: 19

Alacrity: 5

Intelligence: 4

Willpower: 7

Spirit: 17

Charisma: 17

===

Attributes, he knew that. Instinctually he had figured them out years ago. There were six, he saw the list presented before him, each attribute had an attached… what were they?

Numbers.

The thought came suddenly and without explanation. Numbers? They were numbers! Somehow it was as if a veil had been lifted. Strange images and scenes flashed through Leif’s mind. They were jumbled and confusing and were gone as quickly as they had come.

Numbers. He could work with this. His attention returned to the attributes. Six attributes, each with numbers designating how strong they were… wait, that wasn’t right. Why were there seven attributes listed? Was there a seventh he hadn’t noticed? Had that always been on his status?

As if responding to his question the system supplied an answer. The outlier attribute had once been higher, but had subsequently been lowered by the exact amount of attributes he had gained.

Wait… lower attributes, but a sudden surge of power when I was weak. Leif had gained strength since then, so could he…

Now that the dots had been connected the tree now knew what to do. Leif attempted to manually spend a free attribute point. And it worked.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

===

Attributes:

Free: 18

Might: 20

===

He could! The number for [Might] had gone up! Success!

All the attributes were good, so he evenly split his free points between them at first. After he had increased them all by two, spending twelve out of eighteen Leif had a choice. Invest in his highest or… If he could know more, understand more, maybe he could discover more secrets within the system…

He made a choice. Plus six into intelligence, maybe it would pay off, or maybe not.

===

Attributes:

Free: 0

Might: 22

Alacrity: 7

Intelligence: 12

Willpower: 9

Spirit: 19

Charisma: 19

===

Power flooded Leif, strength he had never felt before spiralled out from his trunk, down into his roots and up into his branches. The world became clearer, the presences surrounding him no longer felt so far away.

But that wasn’t all, there was something else, something bubbling beneath the surface.

===

A blood stained battlefield.

Marching through the rain.

A camp full of colours and soldiers.

Training, wooden blades crashing together.

An older man, weather worn skin and dark hair winged with silver speaking with his head in his hands.

A duel between teenagers, tempers flaring.

A wedding, knives hidden behind every smile.

A proud father beaming down.

Playing in the gardens of a grand estate.

Learning under a strict gaze.

A smiling family.

===

A stabbing pain as a goblin’s flint dagger penetrated bark.

What? Where am I?

Another impact, this one against a thrumming shield of gold.

This… Goblins! I’m under attack!

Somehow beneath the haze of confusing memories he had still activated [Under my Protection]. The deer seemed unworried at the very least. Leif focused, no time to consider what he had just experienced.

Four presences flickered out as spears of wood punctuated vital organs and severed limbs. Leif focused his will with [Grand Action] and studied the creatures besieging his person. They were goblins, he somehow knew that now when moments prior he hadn’t had a clue.

The lifeblood of the slain stained the dirt, a far more prominent part of Leif’s consciousness now realised what he was doing. Draining their blood to heal and grow. It felt disturbing, wrong in a way he couldn’t put a finger on. A finger… Just what is going on?

He was surrounded, and the majority of his foes were outside his range. His attention shifted from the goblins to the roots closest to them. With a mental effort he channelled the newly gained vitality from the dead into growth. His roots started grinding forward at a speed he had never thought possible.

And the goblins had no idea. They would pay.

===

Gret lounged back against a boulder watching the show. In small groups the goblin’s he hated the most were sent to their deaths, all those he had caught muttering mutiny under their breath or were slow to obey his orders.

He could get used to this. The feeling of power, of control. A primal sense of satisfaction crawled up his spine and he couldn’t help but grin. Just a few more pests to take care of, then he would incinerate the tree and move on, clan in awe of his power.

He was so caught up basking in his own grandeur that Gret didn’t notice the mumbling and murmuring of his clan. Goblin’s instinctually follow the strongest, but instincts had their limits. Sometimes it was possible to be too cruel, even for goblins.

The clan just needed a little push, and it would all come falling apart.

Wooden spears erupted from the soil to impale and restrain. Goblins screamed in terror and made a hasty retreat away from the tree's suddenly increased threat radius. They scrambled and crawled, a press of panicked bodies desperate to get to safety.

Gret stood, fury in his eyes. He raised his staff and opened his mouth to rally his worthless clan. A goblin shouldered past him, sending Gret staggering back. He tripped onto his ass and cursed. A knee struck his chin, dazing and disorientating him.

The goblin chief cursed and swore, he tried to stand but a root wrapped around his ankle. Gret froze. Then, in a wild flailing of limbs he was dragged bodily towards the tree. Gret twisted and his ankle snapped, screaming in pain he reached down and grabbed his wooden restraint. [Burning Hands] incinerated the root and he was free. He stumbled up but fell the instant he put weight on his shattered ankle.

Panicked, he looked for where he had dropped his staff in the chaos. It wasn't far, he dived for it, arms outstretched. Searing pain lanced through his hip and another spear ripped into his side. But he wasn’t stopped. Snarling, Gret grabbed his staff and levelled it at the plant monster.

“NO ONE BESTS GRET! DIE-”

Something sharp penetrated through the back of his skull and out the front. Gret died as he lived, screeching in rage.