The abyssal arms surged forward, tearing through vines and infecting roses with black spores. The Grievance roared. Reality twisted violently as the two powers clashed—the Gardener's eternal bloom against the Abyssal Mother's endless contagion of compassion and benevolence.
The Nameless Streets shook. Houses collapsed. The sky split into green and black. Survivors ran as Soma opened paths for them using his clones as bridges.
"Run away! As quickly as you can, everyone! And do not look back!"
As the people fled, Soma clashed against the Gardener's vessel. Sharp vines and flowers against giant hands and darkness, curses against growth, death against life. Both represented obnoxious extremes of good: the wrath of nature given a warped, aberrant form; the beauty of a compassionate heart turned obsessive and selfish.
"Unless you can spread a Fantasy Field, you cannot beat me."
