The world, for Lucas, shrank to the size of a small, hidden clearing. The grand quests and server-first boss kills faded into the background, replaced by a new, singular focus: a tiny, glowing sprout pushing its way out of the damp earth.
The seven-day timer on his interface was a constant, ticking reminder of his vulnerability. A static position was a death sentence in Arcadia, but he had no choice. This seed was the key to everything.
He did not spend his time idly waiting. He became a creature of routine, a strategist fortifying a position. The first two days were spent turning his camp into a nearly invisible, layered fortress. He dug pit traps and concealed them with leaves. He wove snares from tough, fibrous vines. He used his novice Herbalism skill to identify a specific moss that, when disturbed, released a puff of highly visible, iridescent spores—a perfect, silent alarm system.
His days were spent practicing his new skill. He used [System Insight] to catalog every plant within a half-mile radius, discovering common [Ironleaf] for healing salves and the occasional [Glimmercap] mushroom, a low-level INT-boosting consumable. His Herbalism skill bar crept upwards with agonizing slowness, but it was progress. He was not just a Tamer; he was becoming a self-sufficient survivalist.
By day three, the Sunpetal was a healthy, vibrant seedling, its leaves pulsing with a soft, internal light. Its magical aura, however subtle, began to have an effect on the environment. The local wildlife grew more agitated. Kael, ever vigilant, spent hours pacing the perimeter of their camp, his low growls a constant warning of monsters being drawn closer than usual. Lucas had to clear and reset his traps twice as often. The garden was becoming a beacon.
On day five, in a dimly lit tavern miles away in a different town, a player slammed a bag of gold onto a table. His face was a mask of fury and humiliation. It was Rive. The high-cost respawn had saved him from losing levels, but it couldn't erase the memory of being so thoroughly outplayed.
"I want him found," Rive snarled at the four other players at his table. They weren't Scorch members; they were mercenaries, higher-level players whose loyalty was to coin, not a cause. At the head of the table sat a man in leather armor with a hawk insignia on his shoulder.
"The Shrouded Weald is a big place," the man, a Ranger, said coolly. "My tracking skill needs something to lock onto. A name isn't enough."
Rive tossed one of the [Scorch Guild Emblems] onto the table. "He picked these up off my dead men. It was linked to our guild. Can you use it?"
The Ranger picked up the emblem, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "A guild signature? Oh, yes. That will leave a trail a blind man could follow. It will take a day or two to pinpoint his location, but we'll find your ghost."
On the final day, the tension in Lucas's camp was electric. The Sunpetal was in full bloom, a magnificent, golden flower that bathed the small clearing in a warm, gentle light. It was beautiful, and it was a giant, unmissable target.
His timer showed the final countdown.
[Sunpetal Growth: 01:45:12]
He had reinforced his traps one last time. His inventory was stocked with the healing salves he had crafted. He and Kael stood watch, their senses on high alert.
Suddenly, Kael's ears flattened against his skull. A low, dangerous growl, deeper than any he had made before, rumbled in his chest. His eyes were fixed on the ridge overlooking their clearing.
Lucas followed his gaze. For a moment, he saw nothing. Then, five figures emerged from the treeline, their gear a cut above the common players of the region. They weren't monsters. They were hunters. And at their lead was a man whose face was seared into Lucas's memory.
Rive.
He pointed a finger directly at Lucas's hidden camp. There was no hesitation, no searching. He knew exactly where they were. At the center of Rive's group, a Ranger lowered a hand that had been glowing with a faint, green energy.
Lucas focused his [System Insight] on him.
[Player: Jax | Level 14 | Class: Ranger]
[Active Skill: Scent of the Betrayed. Allows the tracking of any player who has looted an item from a fallen guildmate.]
They hadn't been searching. They had been following a perfect, undeniable trail right to his doorstep.
His hidden garden was about to become a battlefield.