It fell faster than it would have without my direction, a plethora of spore-roots forcing the giant root down in a motion that audibly cut through the air; something closer to a roar than a whistle or a whine, even before touching the ground itself. I could sense a few of the spore-roots infesting its plant-flesh tear themselves apart under the strain, only for a new tendril to grow and take its place again under the constant touch of [Verdure Parasite], to twine itself around its surrounding brethren in a deceptively-powerful clasp. Plant-flesh, too, creaked and groaned, bits of bark snapping at its edges. The broken pieces, free from the forceful control of [Spore Puppeteer] and with only the nature of the world itself telling them to fall downwards, trailed behind the powerful root like an attendant shadow; slow, compared to the speed of the root itself.

The root landed; it pressed against the ground and all that rested on its surface, shattering stone and breaking bone with disturbing ease - or, at least, it would have been disturbing only a few moments before. Now, with that overwhelming force following the will of the Great Core and myself, things were different.

Now, they were better.

Needle took a step backwards as the nest shook in response, one hand reaching out to search for a handhold, her vision turning to black as her eyes shut. A few blinks later, she took a step forward again, leaning over the edge and looking down towards where the root had fallen. The ground below was painted in bad-thing blood, rot-black and disgusting as ever, made even worse by the way that it smeared itself over the wonderful golds and blues that had previously crisscrossed the Darkwood Guardian’s stolen plant-flesh.

I commanded the spore-roots again; they wriggled and twisted with a dual purpose, smashing aside a few more of the nearby bad-things while simultaneously wiping away bits of the horrid rot. A few more commands went out elsewhere, beginning the process of gathering more slivers of the Guardian’s might. A few of the other nearby - though nearby was relative, as they were still thousands of slithers away - roots had nearly finished as well; the spore-roots infesting them had already begun to clamor and hiss, eager to complete their infestation. They readied themselves in response to my thought-hisses, gleefully welcoming a few more stolen streams that I had plucked away through [Verdure Parasite] and preparing for the battle to come.

“Skies…” I heard Needle mutter, obviously praising the Great Core for its strength and mercy. She rubbed one hand against her eyes, [disbelief] echoing through her [Little Guardian’s Totem] as she blinked again and again, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. “I guess we got our miracle.”

I figured that was acceptable; it was quite the sight, even with the disgusting rot of Tiamat’s bad-things dimming its glory. If only she knew what might have been, had I moved a little more slowly. The sight might have been even more welcome. Unfortunately, I wasn’t nearby so that I could attempt to display a vision of her death with [Illusion Spark]. It was a pity; she’d have to go without, at least for a while.

Luckily for me, Needle was cooperating fairly well even without proper instruction; her eyes fixed themselves on the battle below, which was extremely helpful in keeping the stolen root from collapsing the front of the nest. One of the thought-hisses that I had sent out had been a command to deal with the bad-things that attacked the nest, and while my spore-roots zealously followed that command, it pained me to admit that they did so with very little intelligence. More than once, only an urgent thought-hiss stopped the root’s bulk from ramming bad-things against the already-mangled walls of the nest and damaging it further. I doubted that it would have mattered all that much, with the way that the Coreless had stupidly created breaks in their defenses in the form of their useless moving-walls, but I refused to be a part of that baffling failure.

Walls were meant to be walls; if they weren’t, what was even the point?

Suddenly, a spike of brittle stone smashed itself against the root. It fragmented on impact, sending slivers in every direction. They cut every which way; through plant-flesh, through spore-root, through bad-thing-flesh, through air, and against the ground itself. Another one followed immediately afterwards, damaging the root further. For the first time, its size worked against it; as large as it was, it was a hard target to miss.

Needle’s gaze jolted, shifting towards the source of the attacks. I caught sight of the Ascended again, having finished shaping itself into an overabundance of spikes and legs. The brutish, tailless thing rolled itself forward like a tumbling stone, spinning around its center and releasing another spike as its momentum peaked.

I had to admit, even with the revolting number of legs, it was going to be a problem.

The newest spike landed with even more force than the ones that had come before, lancing through the thinner plant-flesh at the root’s tip and pinning it to the wall of the nest. Inside, a great number of the Coreless cried out as the nest shuddered and shook.

A thought-hiss caused the root to move, beginning the process of ripping itself free from the wall - until I realized that it would likely pull down a section of the wall with it. The root stilled in response to another thought-hiss.

The surviving bad-things, few though they were, scraped and clawed at its surface. Plant-flesh tore away in bits and pieces, but the root itself held firm. Luckily, its great mass was more than large enough to take the place of the useless moving-wall that had already failed to defend the Great Core’s Coreless. Crude as the blockage was, it was an improvement on what it was replacing. Unlike the moving-wall, the root-wall wouldn’t move so easily. Perhaps the Coreless would learn from this and stop relying on the useless things.

In the end, I decided to keep it there, unwilling to risk pulling the walls down by pulling it free. At the very least, it was a tempting - and very visible - target for Tiamat’s bad-things. Their attacks continued to break against a solid wall of plant-flesh, only the spikes launched by the approaching Ascended able to do enough damage to worry me.

It rolled again as it approached, the motion sending yet another one flying towards the pinned plant-flesh. Fortunately, the spike pierced into a thicker section than before; what bits of it managed to push through the outer layers of plant-flesh never made it out the other side to damage the nest itself. As long as it continued to do that, the Great Core’s followers would be fairly safe - or as safe as they could be, with so many bad-things trying to eat them. That was never entirely safe.

As if to highlight that point, there was a flicker of movement at the corner of our shared vision, paired with the scritch-scratch of claws and their accompanying bad-thing. The four-legged bad-thing only moved faster when she turned towards it, as if emboldened by her attention. Blood and viscera flecked its ruffled hide, mementos of the bad-things that had once fought beside it, while saliva dribbled from in between a maw of razor-sharp fangs. The bad-thing flexed its legs, digging overly sharp claws into the nest’s surface, and threw itself upwards with a giant bound.

Needle stumbled backwards as the thing’s claws nearly took off her fingers, falling onto her back with a clatter of stone and a puff of dust. Before she even had enough time to wish that she had a stumble-proof tail instead, the bad-thing fell upon her.

With no other option, Needle did the only thing she could; her forearm met the bad-thing’s open maw, sacrificing itself to protect her more vulnerable throat. Fangs all but sparked off of the ore-flesh that draped itself over her skin, scraping along the surface as the beast fought for a proper hold. She let out a whuff as its back legs skid across her protected stomach, twisting into a shriek as those same legs eventually slid downwards and found the more vulnerable flesh of her legs.

[PAIN] and [RAGE] flared through her [Little Guardian’s Totem] and her free hand smashed itself against the bad-thing’s head - once, twice, thrice, until the bad-thing fell still. It slumped down to her chest, and she heaved it off with a series of ragged pants, finally letting go off the bloodstained shards of stone that had been clasped in her free hand.

She looked down once, averting her gaze with a light whine. Her legs were a bloody mess, closer to mangled meat than anything usable. There was a slight twist at the edges, small sections of the open wounds where the [Little Guardian’s Focus] was already beginning to take hold. There was a moment of hesitation as her vision flickered towards the wounds and back up again.

“...Fuck me, first thing I’m doing when we get back is buying better leg protection,” she grunted, the sounds guttural and pained in between ragged breaths. “Nearly lost ‘em twice in one Skies-damned trip.”

Then, ignoring the shaking of the nest below her and a new flare of [PAIN] with a level of determination worthy of the Great Core’s first Coreless, Needle reached down. Her hands worked to push the edges of the wounds together and, surprisingly, it actually seemed to help. They began to knit together faster than before, the mangled bits connecting closely enough that her leg began to look distinctly more usable than before - as much as legs can ever really be.

They still looked pretty gross, though.

Before the healing could progress much further, the nest shook violently and a few screams erupted from down below, echoed by flashes of [PAIN] and [FEAR]. Suddenly deciding to ignore her still-severe wounds, Needle pulled herself towards her previous position, nearly falling back down more than once.

Down below, there was a new opening in the nest’s wall above the blockage that the root provided, forcing the few surviving bad-things to climb up its surface and throw themselves in. Another spike nearly landed beside the opening immediately afterwards, its aim off just enough that it glanced off plant-flesh before it could break the wall. Still, it caused the nest to tremble enough that Needle’s injured legs collapsed again, cutting her hands on the slivers of stone that coated the ground near her feet. More screams erupted, the shrill sounds of tiny Coreless chief among their number.

Whether it was the fall or the screams that were still coming from below, something sparked fresh anger within Needle as she managed to stand back up again. Her vision snapped towards the projectile’s source. Then, in a bout of stupidity and supreme [RAGE], she did something that I had already seen last false-life.

A wave of broken shards, each dyed with bits of blood, flew towards something in the distance. They fell short of their target, but there was no doubting what she had been aiming for.

“Fuck you!” she shouted in between ragged pants, raging at the Ascended below. “Come on, you stupid thing. Hit me, then!”

The sounds, incomprehensible as they might have been, were familiar - enough that I began to panic. Her next act did the same, forcing me to watch as her vision spun away from the dangerous bad-thing and her hands reached for more shards. She turned, whirling back around again.

Just like before, the bad-thing was faster. It launched a spike of brittle stone, heavy enough to lead to Needle’ death - if I only let it.

I didn’t.

A second sliver of the Darkwood Guardian, newly converted and finally arrived, reached down to block its path.