CHAPTER 144: THE BEHEMORPH AT THE GATES

After Clayton choose his first pick for the cohort that would follow him on his daring expedition to challenge Trial III of the Genesis Protocols, he relaxed as he decided to take it easy and just observe the rest of his close confidants.

Like he discussed with them in the council meeting, all of them had their merits. All of them were Luminous Seed Awakened, and were eligible to evolve to the next level if they survived the trial.

The question was, which of them he needed most, and which of them the Rootsite needed most to stay alive and thriving in his absence.

This was a difficult decision, and hence why Clayton took his time.

The next few days was a period of relative peace for the Rootsite as life went on like usual, while he watched as their guardian from the shadows.

And then, after a few days of this relative peace, something finally happened.

The report came three days after Clayton had named Torren as his first chosen candidate to follow him into Trial III.

Kaelin appeared at dawn like a shadow falling out of the mist. He didn’t knock, neither did he wait for permission as he broke all normal protocols and walked straight into the Spire chamber where Clayton was reviewing supply tallies.

Clayton didn’t react negatively because though he didn’t try to impose his authority as leader on them, he knew that every member of his cohort respected him. So for Kaelin to barge in like this, it had to be important.

"There’s something out there," Kaelin said flatly as soon as he entered.

Clayton lifted his eyes. "Define something."

Kaelin’s face was pale under the lamplight. Not frightened, but tight and troubled. "My scouts found a new Behemorph wandering the outskirts of the city. From its size, they guessed that it was Verdant Warden rank".

He looked at Clayton. "I went and confirmed it myself. It’s indeed Verdant Warden rank, Thorn Crown, and very big".

The room went still as Clayton took in the implications of this report. He didn’t hesitate, he took the necessary steps without delay.

Within an hour, the Rootsite shifted.

Drums sounded once, then twice. It was not the full war call yet, but it was enough to rouse, to keep civilians slightly on their toes and on the ready to evacuate underground at a moment’s notice if and when required.

The atmosphere shifted just enough to put everyone on edge, but not enough to break into a full-blown lockdown yet.

While the civilians still maintained a semblance of their normal lives, though more alert now, the soldiers of the Rootsite were more active.

Guards doubled on the walls, even as scouts moved to the high roofs, keeping an eye out for any threat.

Children were pulled back from the streets by anxious parents. Market stalls closed, goods carried inside, ropes pulled across doors; still relatively normal.

The Rootsite wasn’t panicking, not anymore. They had drills now, they had routines for times like this and this was the appropriate reaction. They had a rhythm. But the air felt heavy, like the sky before a storm.

Inside the Spire, Clayton gathered his council.

Kaelin leaned against a pillar, still catching his breath. "It’s not heading straight for us. Not yet. It’s wandering the outskirts. It crushed a tower-block near the south edge like it was paper".

"Size?" Torren asked.

"Four stories".

A chilling silence settled over the council hall.

Not paying particular attention to the silence, Kaelin continued. "It’s spines are bristled like spears, and each step from it tears a street in half."

"Lovely," Soren muttered in dark amusement.

Clayton rubbed his jaw. "If it’s just wandering, maybe it will move on without locking on the Rootsite".

"Maybe," Kaelin said, though his eyes said otherwise.

Clayton looked around the circle, and finally gave his orders. "We’ll maintain mild alert holds. Fighters to ready stations, civilians should remain aboveground but prepared to shift".

"Kaelin..." He met the scout’s sharp eyes. "Try to turn it away. Lead it toward the east ruins. Use noise, fire, whatever works, I need it far away from my city".

Kaelin pushed off the pillar. "On it."

...

Kaelin went to work immediately.

The Ashveil Cloak made him almost invisible in the right light, but against a Verdant Warden Behemorph, hiding wasn’t the point.

Kaelin darted across broken rooftops, moving faster than most eyes could track as he stalked the target. Ahead, the Thorn Crown giant lumbered.

Its body was plated in natural armor, jagged ridges of thorned bark fused with muscle and stone. Its head bristled with a crown of spears that swayed as it moved as if just one heartbeat away from starting a devastating siege against any enemy that dared to confront it.

Each step from it sank knee-deep into cracked asphalt as the roads struggled to hold its weight. Each breath was a growl that shook windows.

Then, Kaelin threw his first distraction. A firebomb arced high, bursting in bright flame across a half-fallen skyscraper. The explosion rang across the wastes.

The Behemorph turned its massive head. It paused. Spines rattled. And for a moment, Kaelin thought it would follow.

But then it snorted, bellowed, and trudged westward again, straight toward the Rootsite. It wasn’t distracted at all, rather, Kealin’s distraction strategy made it set it’s sights firmer on the Rootsite.

’F*ck!’ Kaelin cursed under his breath.

He threw another. This time an arrow tipped with ember-paste. It slammed into rubble and flared white-hot, throwing up sparks.

The Behemorph turned again. For three heavy steps, it angled away. Kaelin’s hopes rose.

Then the monster bellowed louder, as if mocking him, and trudged back on its original path.

"Damn stubborn tree!" Kaelin spat.

He leapt across a gap, throwing his last trick, shadow marks bursting in flares of illusory noise, echoes of men shouting, and armies marching.

The Behemoth paused again, eyes glowing ember-red. But instead of fleeing, it roared so loud Kaelin’s chest rattled, then began to charge. Not away, but toward the Rootsite.

Kaelin’s eyes widened as he swore and vanished into smoke, racing back.

That pushed the Rootsite into full alert.

When the warning drums sounded again, they were faster and harsher. Three strikes and it kickstarted a chain reaction.

The Rootsite knew what that meant.

Full alert!

The civilians moved as drilled. Parents grabbed children, traders dropped goods, and runners shouted orders down streets.

"TO THE BUNKERS!"

"LEVEL TWO, MOVE!"

"CIVILIANS FIRST!"

The underground passages opened as roots pulled back like doors, revealing stairwells that descended deep under the Spire and its surrounding chambers. Families poured in. Torches lit the way as guards lined the entries to keep order.

Clayton stood at the Spire’s high balcony, watching. His chest felt tight, but not from fear. From weight.

The Rootsite was no longer a scattered camp. It was a city that moved with one will. Civilians didn’t scream, they obeyed. Warriors didn’t hesitate, they readied. He saw discipline, trust, and unity.

"Good," Clayton murmured. "Hold fast."

Behind him, Torren grinned, axe slung. "Looks like the big one didn’t take Kaelin’s bait."

"Then we fight," Clayton said.

The final preparations for battle started as the council gathered again, faster this time.

"Defenses?" Clayton asked.

Soren replied immediately. "The south wall is braced, and the thorn-cannons are mounted. Arrows are prepped. Green Wardens spread to secondary posts."

"Harrick?"

"Spears ready," the big fighter said. "If it hits the wall, we pin it long enough for Veyra and Torren to take its eyes."

"Lorn, Mirra?"

"Clinics stocked. Bunkers sealed. Healing roots spread along lower halls. We’re ready," Mirra said calmly.

Clayton nodded. He looked at Kaelin. The scout had already rejoined them, sweat streaking his face.

"It’s coming," Kaelin said simply. "There’s no turning it, it wants us."

Clayton’s jaw tightened, then he exhaled. "Then let it find us".

They heard it long before they saw it.

The ground shook with every step as dust fell from beams and the walls groaned. Children below clutched their ears as the deep roars echoed through stone.

Above, warriors lined the walls. Veyra stood at the highest tower, bow in hand, eyes sharp. Torren spun his Pyreaxe once, testing the weight. Soren checked every line twice.

Harrick slammed the butt of his spear into the ground and bellowed for discipline.

Clayton walked the length of the south wall. Warriors parted for him, their eyes drawn to his steady pace, to the quiet green fire that shimmered in his chest.

"Hold," he told them. "Not yet."

Then the Behemoth came into view.

It loomed out of the dust, spines glinting in the weak sun. Four stories of living thorn and bark and stone, each step tearing the earth. Its eyes burned ember-red, fixed on the Spire.

The Rootsite drew breath as one.

Clayton raised his hand. "Hold".

The first strike of war had not yet fallen, but the Rootsite was ready.

The Verdant Warden Thorn Crown Behemorph had found them.

There would be no escape.

Clayton lowered his hand as his voice carried across the wall.

"Civilians are safe. The Rootsite stands; this fight is ours."

Then the Behemoth roared, charging the walls.

The battle for the Rootsite was about to begin.