[This is not exactly what the Mother Tree was hoping for,] he rumbles solemnly.
[Yeah well, she was basically hoping we’d throw away tens of thousands of lives in order to keep her alive and flourishing, which just isn’t going to happen. The Colony is in a precarious position right now, which you know, and more to the point, the tree knows, so I think she should be, quite frankly, exceptionally grateful that we are going to send our very best and most powerful ants to help her hold out. When we have the capacity to help more, then we will.]
[She did not hold back when she assisted you.]
[Even if that were true, which I can’t confirm, so what? You want us all to jump off a cliff? We’re ants, not lemmings! Don’t think I haven’t realised that you’re being more than a little reluctant to share details with us about exactly what we would be up against down there. If the Mother Tree and all of her children can’t deal with these termites, then how exactly you expect an army of tier four monsters, no matter how large it is, to deal with the problem is a little beyond me!]
The giant wooden figure slumps a little, real sadness evident in its infinitely deep brown eyes. After a long moment, he turns back to the bountiful plants behind him, which rustle indignantly for a while before he turns back.
[Mother is not pleased, but she wants me to make it clear that she understands. I have been given permission to reveal a little more of what is happening in order to clarify her position.]
He takes a long breath, the leaves that cover his body fluttering at the sudden inhalation, before he lets it all out in a gust of wind.
[The Mother Tree is a monster,] he says.
A pause.
[I mean. Yeah? I knew that.]
Isn’t that obvious? Everyone knows that!
[Hmmmmm. It isn’t something we usually confirm,] the Keeper tells me sternly. [And it is relevant to this topic. The matter at hand isn’t Mother, it is us, her children.]
[In what way? I mean… you guys get spawned like we ants do, no?]
At least, I don’t know of any other way it could be done. Monsters can’t reproduce in any other way. We don’t have a need to, since we’re spawned by the Dungeon itself.
The big tree shakes his head.
[No,] he says firmly, [we are not. The Mother Tree did not wish to create a race of monsters, spawned using the means of the Dungeon, since then we would be as mistreated and maligned as she is. It took hundreds of years, and only after ascending to a very high tier was she able to find another way and achieve it. In effect, we bruan’chii each contain a portion of Mother’s soul. Combined with the method she employs of growing extensions of herself, she was able to create an entirely new form of life: us, disconnected from the Dungeon.]
Hang on a second.
[Are you telling me she literally breaks shards off her own soul to make you guys?]
[Hmmmmm. This is true.]
YIKES. I knew she was crazy, but holy moly! This is the next level! It’s also hella impressive. She didn’t just spawn new monsters, she made an entirely new race, one that is accepted by the System. In order to do it, she takes on a heck of a cost, though.
[The reason we are so threatened by this new enemy, is not because they are stronger than us, or stronger than Mother, but because the ka’armodo have discovered how we were made, and engineered their insect weapons to target us specifically.]
I have a sinking feeling in my abdomen that tells me I know exactly where this is going.
[Let me guess. These are some sort of soul-devouring termite? They get a hold of you and then eat the shard you contain, which indirectly damages your mother?]
[And makes it impossible for her to recreate us,] he nods. [Normally, even should we die, or the materials that comprise our bodies are reclaimed, we live on within the tree, and she can spin us back out whenever we desire. Those who have fallen to the termites are forever lost, and now she refuses to allow us to fight them at all. Though she is capable of great things, the Mother Tree cannot do this fight alone. Her weapons are not effective against creatures who are designed to consume a monster like her.]
[Good thing you shared this with me. It’s helping a whole lot to garner my sympathy. At least now I understand why you reached out to us when you did. Look, the first wave will establish a defensive perimeter, create fortifications and ensure that no further significant damage is done to your mother. From there, we will hold the line until enough reinforcements are available that we can finish the job. Alright? We will finish the war for you, just not immediately.]
[Hmmmmm. It will do.]
With that, the Grove Keeper turns back to the garden, no doubt to confer with his mother. A moment later, all the greenery ripples as a massive pulse of energy flows through every leaf and vine.
[What the hell was that?!] I say.
[Mother has accepted your terms. She is bringing up the energy and materials that she needs to construct the gate. This is no light thing for her to do, friend. I hope you are able to do as you’ve said.]
[Ha. When it comes to eating termites, you won’t find a better ally than us.]
Nearby, Brilliant watches all the goings on with wide, glittering eyes.
“It’s amazing!” she screams. “I HAVE TO SEE MORE!”
A moment later, she dives into the garden and vanishes within a second.
76. Two Weeks
There are no precise records of how old the Mother Tree may actually be. Without being present to see her spawn within the Dungeon it wouldn’t be possible to know this information. Along with the more secretive, long-lived nature of plant monsters, it isn’t difficult to understand why documented sightings of her are so rare. Only when she evolved and became a much larger presence within the Dungeon did sightings become more common and her movements and growth more documented.
I estimate she would have been tier seven, or perhaps eight, at the time of the first recorded sighting by the Legion. A powerful tree of great size that nonetheless was already capable of moving through its extensive root system, vanishing from one place overnight to reappear in another. From analysis provided by plant-type monster specialists within the ranks of the Loremasters, it’s assumed the Mother Tree invested the bulk of her evolutionary energy and specialised her mutations into greater survivability. Her ability to relocate is just the tip of what the monster can do to preserve her own life.
During combat with the tree, it has displayed remarkable regenerative capacity, drawing on hidden stores of both mana and Biomass to regrow what is lost at a rapid pace. The roots can appear almost anywhere, even disconnected from the tree itself, and are able to capture Biomass and siphon it back to the main body of the monster across vast distances.
The Mother Tree has even survived the destruction of her trunk on two occasions that the Legion is aware of. One of these was inflicted by the Legion itself, during the ultimately failed attempt to exterminate the high tier creature, and the other occurred earlier in the monster’s life, yet she was able to fully recover both times. Some speculate the tree itself is naught but misdirection, and her true self lies elsewhere.
Two weeks is both a long and a short amount of time, depending on perspective. Is it a long time to be standing around doing nothing? Absolutely. You’d go mad within a day. Is it a long time to prepare an invasion of the fourth stratum? No. No, it is not.