Underneath the feet of the warring titans, a silent intelligence was weaving itself into the very fabric of the planet. The Mycelial Weaver, a fungal entity born from the rot of the Cretaceous forests, had survived the fire by retreating into the deep aquifers. Now, it rose to claim the titans themselves. It did not hunt with teeth or fire; it hunted with spores so small they could pass through the thickest hide. These spores were not merely seeds; they were biological processors, containing the blueprint for a global consciousness that sought to bring order to the chaotic violence of the Gorgon Era.
A Gorgon-Walker would breathe in the invisible dust, and within weeks, its bioluminescent sac would begin to flicker with a pale, sickly green light. The Weaver was hijacking their nervous systems, bypassing their primal instincts and replacing them with the directives of the hive. These "Infected Walkers" became something else entirely—living conduits for the hive-mind. They stopped fighting for territory and began to move in uncanny, synchronized patterns, constructing massive spires of bone and mud that acted as antennas for the Weaver's psychic reach. They became the laborers of a fungal god, their massive strength repurposed to build a world of interconnected roots.
The Gorgon Era faced its first existential threat. This wasn't a predator-prey relationship; it was a total assimilation. The non-infected Walkers instinctively recognized the green-glow as a mark of the enemy. The wars that followed were genocidal. The pure-blooded Walkers used their thermal breath to cauterize entire valleys, trying to burn the fungus out of the soil. They scorched the earth until it was nothing but sterile glass, yet the Weaver always returned, rising from the deep fissures where the fire could not reach. The Walkers were fighting an enemy that had no heart to pierce and no throat to crush; they were fighting the very ground they stood upon.
But the Weaver was patient. It learned to mimic the thermal signatures of the Walkers, luring them into traps where the ground would give way into fungal pits filled with paralyzing gases. For the first time, the monsters felt a primitive form of dread. They were being hunted by a mind far greater and more alien than their own. The evolution of the Gorgon-Walkers shifted toward immunity—developing specialized internal filters, high-frequency vibrations in their limbs to shake off spores before they could take root, and even a form of "blood-burning" where they would temporarily raise their internal temperature to lethal levels to cook any fungal intruders.
This biological arms race turned the Earth into a mosaic of "Dead Zones" and "Green Hives." In the Dead Zones, the Walkers reigned supreme, keeping the land scorched and barren. In the Green Hives, the Weaver transformed the titans into grotesque gardens, where plants and fungi grew directly out of their flesh. The two sides were locked in a biological cold war, with the Weaver slowly deciphering the Walkers' genetic code. It began to engineer "Puppet-Titans"—creatures grown from the ground up to mimic the Walkers, but devoid of any soul or will, serving only as the Weaver's heavy infantry. The stage was set for a conflict that would decide whether the Earth would remain a land of individuals or become a single, breathing organism.