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A few days had passed since he and Sera spoke on the wall. He could see she seemed to be far more at ease now, often tending to the flower patch or just wandering around with a small smile he hadn't seen on her before. It made him feel as if he had accomplished something, but that also led him to where he was now, walking toward the dead zone. The grey patch where the first monstrosity he had created had fallen, a scar on the land that nothing could heal that existed a bit outside his village.
Sera fell into step beside him before he'd gone fifty paces. She didn't ask where they were going as she already knew.
They'd been here before after all and he had been doing this for a week now, making sure it wasn't spreading. He needed to make sure for himself regardless of how many times the little world tree tried to reassure him that it was only there and that it wasn't growing or shrinking, just existing.
The wind seemed to die down as they approached it, either by coincidence or not wanting to touch the spot itself.
It was always like this, he realized, the air growing still and even the dust settling around the patch, as if the world held its breath whenever it came to that single spot. Chris stopped at the edge of the grey patch and looked out at the dead soil. Grey-white and cracked, feeling like ash or bone powder.
Not even the Critic could fix this place, having tried extensively before informing him that it wasn't a lack of nutrients, but rather that the soil itself had experienced something so bad it could not be recovered, how only time could fix it.
"The wind won't even come here," Sera said quietly. "Like it's afraid of this specific patch."
"It's because of what happened, even nature itself wants nothing to do with the place that thing grew and fell." Chris's voice was flat.
"I didn't listen to the Rootmind when it warned me against planting the seed, too assured in my skill to really consider the dangers. After all, if the strange vines with their ever constant hunger and bloodlust haven't once tried to harm me, why would a hopeful extension or back up connection to my Rootmind's network?"
Sera said nothing. She remembered that day, and the thing that had spawned.
"I ended up growing something horrible, a true weapon I wouldn't even use against the dungeon unless I have no other options left, and even then, I would still hesitate." He paused, his jaw tightening. "It grew faster than I thought it would and was hungrier than the strangle vines. I was stupid, thinking my intent and desire would have given it direction and form to become what I wanted regardless of being from an already formed plant. I thought maybe it would be like the Ent walls, formed from my Ancient Ent, a lesser offshoot but still usable. It did warn me but…" He shook his head. "You came after it had started to properly grow, after it had started consuming the wolves and the mutts, absorbing them and growing larger with every kill, their faces slowly forming across its horrid yellow vines. By the time you and Korr realized what was happening..."
"It had already turned and set its sights on the village," Sera finished with a nod. "It wasn't attacking the dungeon creatures anymore; it was attacking everything around it with its sights set on the village as its next meal."
Chris nodded.
The memory came to the forefront of his mind, from the creature's twisted form to the way its vines had writhed like wounded snakes as a lucky strike brought it down, an opening given to them by the Minotaurs of all things. But the sound it made when it died wasn't a scream. Instead, it was somehow something worse. Something that felt like the land itself crying out in pain that they all seemed to feel physically.
"I should have been the one to kill it." Chris's voice was barely a whisper. "It was something I grew and it was my arrogance that formed it. I should have been the one to end it."
The creature had started disintegrating upon death, what was left being dragged away by the Minotaurs. Where its remains had first touched the ground, the soil had died permanently. At the time he couldn't help but have the thought that it made things easier that way, a permanent deterrent and something that would clean up after itself upon death, ensuring that enemies couldn't dissect or gain anything from it.
The Critic had tried to heal the ground. It had extended its roots into the grey patch, searching for something to purify, something to save.
It told him flatly that there was nothing it could do, that there was no way for it to restore the soil or undo what had been done to it, that only time could possibly heal the scar but till then it was a permanent mark that even life itself rejected even if he could touch it.
Chris had thought it had been joking at the time but as more time passed, he began to think it was more of a statement of fact.
"This is why I don't want to grow weapons," he said. "Some things should never be allowed to grow. No matter how useful they might seem. No matter how much I want to protect this place, if I wanted, I could easily wipe out the entirety of this world or enslave it if I wanted to, all with a single seed turning into a parasitic mushroom of all things."
She didn't doubt it or question it. His tone showed how serious his statement was as absurd as she may have found it. Instead, she frowned as she looked at him, having noticed something in his gaze as he looked at the grey patch.
"You're afraid."
"No, I'm not afraid, rather I'm absolutely terrified."
"Good, that's what makes you different from so many others." That made him look at her. "The people who made me? The specialist programs? They were never afraid. They never hesitated. They never wondered if what they were doing was wrong." She paused. "Your fear means you're not like them. You have lines you refuse to cross and when you do create something bad or make a mistake you accept it and try to learn from it while hoping to avoid repeating those same mistakes. That's why this place isn't like the Empire and why I can trust you."
Chris looked back at the grey patch, at the dead soil so fine it could easily slide through his fingers, at the scar he'd put on the land, a constant reminder of what he could become if he stopped caring or restraining himself.
"That's what scares me the most," he admitted. "Not that I could grow something like that again or the true extent of the danger I hold. It's that I might not hesitate next time. That I might decide the risk is worth it and go all out without a care of what could happen."
Sera was quiet for a long moment longer after that.
"Then don't let it happen," she finally said, lightly touching his arm. "Remember this place. Remember what it cost and when the Empire comes, when they try to take everything you've built, let this place be the reminder that you chose restraint. That you chose to be better than them when you could have unleashed something like this onto them, done this to their land."
Chris nodded slowly, taking her words to heart.
He looked at the grey patch one last time, at its dead soil, at the scar he created.
"If I ever forget," he said quietly, "if I ever stop hesitating... it could destroy everything or worse. Not just the village but this entire world."
Sera said nothing in response to that. She just turned and started walking back toward the village.
He stared at it a moment longer before turning and following her back.