The primitive forest quivered under the weight of Heim's unleashed aura. What had moments ago been a chaotic battlefield of struggling figures and crude weapons was now becoming a stage for something far greater—something primal, ancient, and powerful. The ropes the barbarians had thrown at him, thick as a man's arm and hardened with tree sap, were shredded effortlessly as his energy surged outward. The snapping sound echoed like gunfire, startling the nearby warriors who had thought they had subdued the stranger. Their victory cries died in their throats as Heim's power swept through the clearing like a storm wind.
Heim's breaths grew deep and steady, every inhalation pulling memories from the deepest parts of his mind. The smell of the forest, the texture of the vines, the sound of battle—all of it mingled with echoes of another era. Images surfaced unbidden: the old world, the endless skies of their shared domain, the familiar sensation of standing side by side with the other elemental fragments within Boboiboy. He remembered the warmth of their shared strength, the thrill of their battles, and the bitter moment when they were seperated, each to forge their own destiny.
Flora's voice snapped him partially back to the present. She was fending off two barbarians armed with sharpened bones, her vines intercepting their strikes but failing to gain ground. Heim stepped forward without hesitation, his movements as fluid as a falling leaf, and reached out with his left arm. Flora looked up just as his hand wrapped firmly around her waist and lifted her effortlessly off the ground. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck for balance. For a brief second, amidst the chaos, their eyes met—hers filled with exhaustion and worry, his with calm resolve.
Heim turned his attention to the primitive warriors. Their faces were smeared with earth, their eyes wild with instinctual aggression. They didn't understand the kind of power they were challenging. Their chants faltered as Heim straightened to his full height, Flora secured against him, and stretched his right hand out toward the open earth ahead. He inhaled sharply through his nose, closed his eyes, and then opened them again. The moment his lids parted, a vibrant green glow surged from his pupils, casting twin beams that illuminated the dark canopy above.
His voice rang out like a command from the heart of nature itself."Grow up! Logbuster!"
The ground answered.
The forest floor split with loud cracking sounds as thousands of wooden vines burst upward like a reversed waterfall, spiraling and weaving together with supernatural precision. The barbarians stumbled backward, their crude spears raised in terror as they watched the vines converge into a single massive structure. Before their eyes, the writhing wood solidified into the shape of a mace roughly the size of Heim's torso. The head of the mace opened slightly like a blooming flower, revealing a circular mouth from which a radiant green light emanated, casting eerie shadows across the clearing. Plant veins pulsed across the weapon's surface like living arteries, carrying a luminous energy that made the air hum with pressure.
This was [Logbuster], not merely a weapon but a declaration. Heim could feel the heartbeat of the forest flowing through it. Logbuster represented his answer to Boboiboy's final wish—that the fragments, once divided, should walk their own paths freely. Heim's path was one of growth and domination, of intertwining his existence with the raw power of nature and shaping it to his will. No longer would he be merely a part of someone else; he was Heim, and this world must recognize that name.
The barbarians, who moments before had been fearless hunters in their territory, now felt an instinctual dread rise in their chests. Their animalistic minds screamed danger. They stepped back unconsciously, gripping their weapons tighter even though some part of them understood how futile their resistance was.
Flora tightened her hold around his neck, trusting his strength completely. Heim raised Logbuster high with his right arm, the vines coiling around his forearm as though the weapon itself was alive and eager to strike. Then, with a mighty swing, he slammed it down onto the ground.
The impact was accompanied by a sound like thunder rolling through the forest. The earth quaked beneath their feet, birds scattered from the canopy in panicked flocks, and the trees seemed to bend toward Heim as if acknowledging their sovereign. Heim shouted: "Entangle Pythons" and from the point where Logbuster struck, a network of glowing fissures spread outward across the ground, each vein of light pulsing like a heartbeat.
Then the roots erupted.
Dozens, then hundreds, of serpent-shaped tree roots burst from the glowing fissures, their movements eerily fluid. They slithered across the forest floor with frightening speed, their surfaces glistening with sap and glowing green light. Their heads tapered into sharp, fang-like points, while their bodies coiled and twisted with the strength of living wood. The barbarians screamed as the Root Serpents closed in.
The first wave struck before the warriors could even raise their weapons properly. Roots wrapped around legs, arms, and torsos with crushing force, dragging the barbarians off their feet and pinning them to the ground. Some tried to cut at the vines with their bone blades, but the harder they struggled, the more the serpents tightened, their wooden bodies contracting like massive constrictors. Bones cracked audibly under the pressure.
The entire battlefield transformed in seconds from a chaotic skirmish into a scene of overwhelming natural domination. Heim's attack had shifted the balance completely. The barbarians, who moments ago had believed themselves to be hunters defending their territory, now found themselves prey trapped in an inescapable snare.
And Heim stood at the center of it all, Logbuster in hand, eyes glowing with unshakable resolve, as the forest itself bent to his will. This was not the hesitant fragment of the past—it was the Heim who had chosen his own future.