God of Trash

Rhys leaped away. His bones creaked and his joints ached, but the quick patch-job he’d done to heal his legs held for now. He needed more time to let Self-Regeneration properly patch him up, but right now, between Trash Body and the vitality he was stealing from Landon, it would have to do.

Landon smashed down where he’d been seconds later. Earth flew, stones peppering the back of Rhys’s legs and pinging a few tender spots he hadn’t known he’d had. He’d given up on plucking the vines to just attack Rhys. Clearly he’d decided killing the caster would be faster than pulling out all the vines, as the vines themselves grew deeper into him and new ones spawned with every moment. He whipped around and lunged at Rhys, and Rhys yelped and hopped into the air. Landon followed up with an uppercut, only for Rhys to snap Snake Robes’ whip out from under his sleeves and whip it viciously at his arm. The blow still hit, but Rhys adjusted his position and lowered the damage with the swipe. His bones broke, and he flew backward, but managed to land on his feet. A few seconds later, more vitality flowed into him and repaired him, and he ran on.

Landon chased, still trying to kill him before his vines could deplete his strength. He wouldn’t be wrong about killing the caster being the quickest way to escape, except that the more the vines grew, the more vitality Rhys stole from him. Rhys healed and grew more rejuvenated, and Landon grew weaker and more exhausted. Rhys fled, and Landon chased, but the scales had already been tipped in Rhys’s favor. The longer Rhys kept up the chase, fleeing fearfully as though his life were on the line, the worse things got for Landon. Rhys slowed his own reactions and speed, letting Landon get a few hits in here and there so the man wouldn’t swap tactics. Better to take hits he knew he could survive, than for Landon to whip out some sure-kill ultimate technique and oko him.

As he fled, he watched the vines on Landon’s back. The buds were swollen, and starting to show the first signs of the red fruit that would come. Landon didn’t have enough vitality to instantly create tomatoes the way Rhys had, back when he was dealing with mana oversaturation back in Purple Dawn, but he had enough to create tomatoes. Rhys just didn’t know how many, or how long it would take. With all the vines currently digging into Landon’s flesh, there was every possibility that they would kill the man long before he produced even a single tomato.

A tiny bit of Rhys realized he’d gone from terrified of Landon to wondering if he’d have a good crop this year in the space of a few seconds. He wanted to laugh but he didn’t want to give up the ghost, so he forced himself to keep looking terrified and run around like his hair was on fire.

Good things couldn’t last forever. Landon’s face darkened, and he halted, lifting a finger to point at Rhys. “You’re toying with me.”

“Me? Would I do that?” Rhys asked, putting on a shocked face.

Landon drew back his fist. Mana gathered around it, only in Rhys’s mana senses at first, but quickly growing stronger, brighter, until his hand was encased in a wall of blue fire. The power emanating from his fist took on a terrifying tenor as he put everything he had left in it. His body withered, and even the tomato plants growing from every inch of him drooped. “It’s too late to stop you. But like this, I can kill you before I die.”

Rhys’s eyes widened. That punch… no matter how hard he fled, it was too late. Not just for him, either, but for Lira and the whole camp, too. Landon had given up. This was his last gambit.

Not the tomatoes! Even as he outwardly panicked, a part of Rhys remained calm. He focused on the tomatoes and made a grasping gesture. The tomato plants extended their roots, seeking deeper into Landon’s body. Without Landon making an effort to force them back, they sunk deep into his flesh and sucked up every last scrap of vitality and mana he hadn’t already put in his punch. Further. The roots dug through Landon’s body, racing toward his fist.

Landon laughed, a dark and desperate sound. “It’s too late. You cannot stop me.” He raised his fist one last inch, then changed the momentum to forward.

Rhys gritted his teeth. He hadn’t wanted to use this, but he had no option. I have to trust Sable. Sable would know what to do.