The Living Bulwark lay cradled in the black earth of Mara's garden, a perfect disc of interwoven heartwood and living bark the size of a large round shield. Its surface shimmered with a faint, verdant light, pulsing slowly in sync with my own heartbeat. It was no longer just a plant I had grown; it was a request waiting for an answer.
"The bonding is the final step," Mara explained, her voice hushed in the twilight garden. "You have poured your intent and mana into it. Now, you must pour a piece of your will into its core. It will become an extension of your body, your mind. You will feel what it feels. If it is struck, you will feel the blow. If it is damaged, you will bleed mana."
It was a profound symbiosis, a perfect echo of the Sylvan Circuit's philosophy. "How do I begin?"
"Hold it. Feed it not just mana, but a command axiom. The first, fundamental rule it will live by."
I knelt, the rich soil cool under my knees. I placed my hands on the shield's warm surface. I closed my eyes and let my consciousness sink into the nascent awareness within the wood.
I found not thoughts, but instincts. An instinct to grow. An instinct to endure. An instinct to protect this patch of soil.
I needed to redirect that last instinct. I formed the axiom, not in words, but in a burst of intent, imagery, and mana:
"I am your root. Your purpose is my preservation. Where I stand, you stand. What threatens me, you defy. Your strength is my resilience. Your life is my own."
I pushed the axiom into the shield's core, along with a surge of mana from my most integrated node—the one in my right palm.
The shield reacted.
The wooden fibres moved, twisting and knitting more tightly. The green veins flared with brilliant light. A shock, like a heartbeat made of pure life force, travelled up my arms and slammed into my chest. I gasped as I felt a new, permanent connection snap into place in my soulscape. It was a thick, green root, anchoring itself not in soil, but in the very centre of my developing Sylvan network.
[Greenwarden Construct: Living Bulwark (E) has bonded.]
[Trait Acquired: Symbiotic Defense.]
[Symbiotic Defense (Passive): The Living Bulwark shares its damage resistance with its bonded user. User gains +10% resistance to physical and magical impacts. The Bulwark can be summoned/dismissed directly from/to the user's soulscape at will. Mana cost: Low.]
I opened my eyes. The shield was no longer on the ground. With a thought, it shimmered into existence, strapped to my left arm. It was weightless, yet I could feel its solid, unyielding presence. With another thought, it vanished. The +10% resistance lingered—a constant, subtle reinforcement of my being.
Mara let out a slow breath. "It is done. A true construct. The first seen in this province in a hundred years." Her eyes were wary. "The bonding is not a secret that can be kept. The flare of life energy... others will have felt it."
She was right. As I left the temple gardens, the night felt watchful. My new connection to the Bulwark was like a soft, green beacon in my chest, noticeable to anyone with the right senses.
I had planned to spend the next week using the Crystalized Sap to push my Solar Plexus node past 10% integration. But the world had other plans.
Two days later, a stranger arrived in Whitefall. He didn't go to the guild. He asked questions at the inn, his voice a low rumble. He was a large man, but it was a lean, corded strength, not a warrior's bulk. He wore worn but high-quality leathers, and a long, thin blade hung at his hip. His eyes were the colour of flint, and they missed nothing.
He was asking about a "green mage." About "unnatural plant growth." About "herbs that shouldn't exist."
Silas the Listener found me near the guild stables, his face uncharacteristically tense. "The man's name is Kael. No surname. He's a bounty hunter, tracker, and occasional problem-solver for nobles who don't want official attention. He's asking about you."
My blood ran cold. "Who hired him?"
"Unknown. But his questions are too specific. He knows about the Dragon's Kiss pepper, Roy. Not by name, but he described it. 'A fire-berry turned weapon.' He's not Church. His interest is... proprietary."
The Baron. It had to be. He was hedging his bets. While publicly allowing me my "Academy dream," he had privately hired a tracker to verify my capabilities, to see if my "marketable techniques" were worth more immediate exploitation—or if I was hiding more than I'd said. Kael was an audit in human form.
I couldn't run. That would confirm guilt. I couldn't fight him openly; his aura, even restrained, felt like a solid C-rank, maybe higher. An aura user, specialized in tracking and single combat.
I had to pass his inspection without revealing my secrets.
He found me the next morning at the guild, examining a herb-collection quest. He leaned against the doorframe, blocking the light.
"Roy White," he stated. No question.
I turned, schooling my face into polite confusion. "Can I help you?"
"I've been hired to assess a unique asset. A young mage with a green thumb. My employer is... curious about the extent of your cultivation." His flinty eyes scanned me, lingering on my hands, my hair. "I understand you've grown a new type of pepper. I'd like to see it. Taste it."
A test. If the pepper was as potent as rumoured, it proved my skill. If I refused, it proved I had something to hide.
"I have a small sample at my cottage," I said, keeping my voice even. "For my own use. It's not for sale."
"Lead the way," he said, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
The walk to the cottage was silent, tense. I could feel him observing everything—my gait, my awareness of our surroundings, the way the common folk subtly gave him a wide berth.
Inside the cottage, I went to the pot on the windowsill. The single Dragon's Kiss plant held three ripe pods. I plucked the smallest one. I sliced a sliver, so thin it was almost transparent, and offered it to him on the blade of my knife.
He took it, placed it on his tongue. His eyes widened a fraction. A sheen of sweat instantly appeared on his brow. He chewed slowly, swallowed, and let out a controlled breath. "Distinct. Potent. Not just heat. Depth. You guided that?"
"I encouraged the plant's natural potential," I said, the practiced line falling easily.
"Encouraged." He looked around the sparse room, his gaze resting on Kaelan's journal (closed), the Mana-Gathering Crystal (hidden under a cloth), and the empty spot where my shield would be if summoned. "They say you talk to plants. That you make molds behave. That you've bonded with something in the old herbalist's garden."
Rumours had grown legs and claws.
"I study old techniques," I said. "The bonding is an exaggeration. I've cultivated a hardy gourd for use as a shield mold. It's a project with Herbalist Mara."
"A gourd." He didn't believe me. "Show me."
This was the dangerous part. I couldn't show him the Living Bulwark. Its bonded nature would be obvious to his senses. But I had anticipated this.
"Very well." I led him to the small garden plot behind the cottage. In a corner, away from my real experiments, grew a large, thick-skinned Ironstem Gourd I had been mildly enhancing with Plant Creation for weeks. It was tough, fibrous, and utterly inert—a convincing fake.
He crouched, running a hand over its hard shell. He pressed his thumb against it, and a flicker of grey aura sparked at his fingertip. The gourd's surface resisted, but showed a slight dent. "Hard. But just a plant." He stood, dusting his hands. "Your employer will be pleased with the pepper. The rest... seems to be village embellishment."
He was leaving himself an out. He sensed there was more, but without proof for his employer, his job was done.
He turned to go, then paused. "A word of advice, kid. Unusual skills are like rare gems. They make you valuable. They also make you a target. The world has plenty of people who'd rather put a unique thing in a cage than let it grow free. Your Baron is one of the gentler types."
With that, he left.
I stood in the garden, the adrenaline draining away, leaving cold clarity. Kael was right. The Baron's gentle leash was the best-case scenario. The Dragon's Kiss had passed inspection, but it had also confirmed my value. The pressure would only increase.
I looked at the Ironstem Gourd, then at the connection in my soul to the true Living Bulwark. I had hidden one truth today. But I couldn't hide forever.
Growth was no longer enough. I needed to grow thorns, walls, and hidden depths.
The Gravewyrm Bloom wasn't just a key to greater power. It was my only chance to grow too strange, too potent, and too dangerous to be easily caged.