Chapter 118: The Apostate’s gambit
More than a week passed, the enclave growing stronger.
At night, when the civilians slept and patrols were silent, Clayton walked alone beneath the starlit ruins. Hive-Sight stretched far, his dominion pulsing against Korrath’s distant borders.
He knew this wasn’t peace. This was the breath before a storm. Korrath was watching, waiting for a slip.
But Clayton had no intention of slipping.
Not this time.
He looked out over the glowing expanse of his Rootsite, roots pulsing like veins of emerald fire through the ruins.
"We’re coming for you," he whispered into the night. "But not as prey".
His Heartseed Core flared, and the ground answered, roots spreading wider, deeper, until even the wind seemed to carry his silent vow.
This war had only just begun.
...
Two weeks passed since the first Ironshade strike.
Clayton’s Rootsite had grown like wildfire, roots spreading through fractured highways and strangling broken overpasses in emerald light. But just as the domain expanded outward, people began flowing inward.