I stared out through the wall-crack, sending thought-hiss after thought-hiss towards my assembled spore-roots.

Constrict, I told the ones that rested below. The spore-roots answered, flexing their gold-blue lengths, and plant-flesh wrapped itself around the bad-thing’s limbs. They squeezed, and though I could tell that the bad-thing was far too armored for the weaker of the Great Core’s plant-flesh followers to damage, even the lowest of them could have an effect.

Together, they forced the bad-thing to stumble.

It fell midstep, once again displaying the inferiority of design that was legs, the stupid limbs failing where a proper tail would not. Stones cracked and plant-flesh creaked as the bad-thing dipped low, its giant wings slicing outwards in an attempt to catch its balance. Those same wings, their edges sharper than the sharpest of fangs, sliced through the surrounding growth with devastating ease. Spore-roots cried out to me as they were split in two.

Smash, I told the ones that waited above. The spore-roots answered, and the Darkwood Guardian’s roots came down.

And again, they failed to truly break through the bad-thing’s stone-formed hide, leaving only cracks on its surface.

It was sturdier than before; different than in the false-life.

Before the bad-thing could recover and take advantage of the devastation its wings and bulk had inflicted in its fall, I forced damaged plant-flesh to begin its regrowth, [Verdure Parasite] more than equal to the task. Again, I was forced to provide thanks for the continued survival of the Little Puppeteers that remained in the many-nest. Without their continual release of spores, I wouldn’t have so many sources of growth to draw from.

With them, I had more than enough.

Plant-flesh bloomed, and the damage was undone. New growth sprouted from each wounded carcass of plant-flesh, greens and browns bursting forth from the ruined edges. Lines of gold and blue sprouted alongside the new growth, ensuring that the newest pieces continued to follow the Great Core’s - and my - direction.

The bad-thing found its feet again, ripping apart the roots and vines that tried to bind it. When the next of the Darkwood Guardian’s roots came down, the sturdy plant-flesh was met by an open maw. The root, sturdy as it might have been, stood little chance against the size and force of the bad-thing’s jaws.

It snapped, stone fangs slicing through plant-flesh before powerful jaws crushed what remained. The giant root split into pieces; pulped shards filled its mouth, while the now-severed section of the root dropped to the ground with a deafening clamor. More spore-roots cried out, the sounds echoing against the boundaries of my mind-nest, as the fallen root pulverized a number of the Great Core’s followers on its way down.

The bad-thing didn’t even swallow what it had stolen; [Verdure Parasite] let me see that it couldn’t have if it tried. It had a throat, but it wasn’t one that actually allowed it to swallow. Its dangerous maw simply ended at a wall of stone, a few remaining pieces of plant-flesh still lodged against it, the obstacle no different from anything else that formed the creature’s body.

Even there, the bad-thing’s defenses were stronger than I’d have liked. I reluctantly dismissed my idea of growing dangerous bits of plant-flesh inside my enemy’s stomach. It was impossible. There wasn’t one - just a Core and the solid stone that surrounded it.

That would make things harder.

Harder, but not impossible.

From where I rested, it was difficult to see the bad-thing’s lower body. If it weren’t for its massive size, letting the majority of its bulk soar above the gathered plant-flesh when the bad-thing stood at full height, I might not have been able to see it at all. Luckily, I had been able to give the plant-flesh that waited below far simpler orders than most. Any time those same limbs brushed up against waiting plant-flesh, roots and tendrils and bladed thorns tried to sneak their way through chinks in their armor.

And when enough of the spore-roots hissed at me, proud of their success, I used [Verdure Parasite] again. I yanked at all of the nearby growth, stealing it away and forcefully pushing it into the embedded plant-flesh.

They grew dangerously fast, the crack of fractured plant-flesh accompanied by the crack of shattering stone.

The bad-thing stumbled again, just for a moment, before forcefully ripping itself free. It twisted slightly and thrust a wing upwards and out with surprising force, batting away another attacking root. Plant-flesh and stone cracked in tandem, slivers of both sloughing off of their hosts. Following previous orders, the bits of stone that fell from the enemy’s form were tugged far away by various roots and tendrils, hidden beneath dense underbrush. I had already seen the way that the bad-thing could retrieve and reuse bits of stone to help remake its form in my false-life; with easy access to the stone below already in the process of being blocked by ever-growing plant-flesh, I only needed to chip away at the stone it already had bit by bit.

Unfortunately, the stone that it already had was more than enough to be a problem. It had clearly spent its time underground gathering ridiculous amounts of stone; even now, the sense for plant-flesh that came with [Verdure Parasite] was revealing a giant cavern below where the bad-thing had emerged, creeping vines and more all seeking to coat themselves over its boundaries. Spore-roots flexed and forced some larger seeds to dislodge before I sped their growth, hastening the process.

As the few bits of stone that I had managed to steal were pulled away, the bad-thing reared back, beating both wings in a powerful motion that helped pull it onto its hind legs in an instant. It froze in place, the giant masses of stone that made up its wings twisting upon themselves until it seemed that they hung on by only a few threads of malleable stone.

And then, in a motion that should have been far too fast for a bad-thing of its size, the beast blurred downwards. The stone that formed its wings whipped forward. They detached.

They flew.

I called to the nearby spore-roots - to those above and those below, sending each of them a single message.

Protect.

They moved, plant-flesh tearing in their haste to obey. Vines stretched across gaps, canopies intertwined, and branches creaked in their efforts to bar the path. Even the roots of the Darkwood Guardian answered, three of them placing themselves directly in front of the nest.

The bad-thing’s attack met wall upon wall of plant-flesh, a near-insurmountable series of followers stacked up behind one another in my defense.

And then uncountable spore-roots screamed, their many cries scraping against the edges of my mind. I flinched, both at the sound and the reason for it.

[Verdure Parasite] let me get a sense for the destruction that had taken place, the odd awareness of nearby plant-flesh giving me a way to see that went beyond normal sight. I didn’t really need it. When the closest roots lifted, a vast swath of the Great Core’s followers were just gone, shredded in their attempts to block the bad-thing’s attack.

The path between us was opened, and I could see the bad-thing in full for the first time, its lower bulk no longer hidden behind endless plant-flesh.

It looked like Tiamat, if the blasphemer had been made of stone rather than flesh. Only the wings were different, in that they weren’t even there anymore - the bad-thing had sacrificed them in the process of its attack, the stone having shattered into small slivers with each and every impact. If it hadn’t been for my panicked demand for protection, it might have made it further.

I might have died again; even the roots of the Darkwood Guardian had suffered greatly in my defense, roots that were far sturdier than I.

The bad-thing glared at me. It didn’t have real eyes, but I would have sworn to the Great Core that it caught my gaze, even hidden in the wall-crack as I was. Looked at me. Saw me.

A giant root smashed the bad-thing from above, hammering it into the ground in its distraction, and the moment was shattered. More pieces of stone tore away from its flesh, disappearing into the undergrowth and pulled away like all the others before it. The smallest bits of plant-flesh couldn’t do much, but they could at least do that - and with every piece stolen away, the bad-thing became a little weaker. A little smaller.

[Verdure Parasite] began to forcibly regrow the plant-flesh between us, the spore-roots that infested them immediately set to removing any remnants of stone that could be found. Most were already shattered by the impact, broken down into powder of brittle shards. The little that remained were crushed, were hidden, or simply flung far away; whatever it took to prevent the bad-thing from simply retrieving them and rebuilding itself.

It couldn’t be allowed to recover its strength - and as long as there were enough of the Great Core’s followers blocking access to the stone it needed, it never would.

I, on the other hand, was going to do just that.

The giant roots of the Darkwood Guardian smashed into the enemy again and again, preventing it from pressing its advantage. By the time the enemy forced them off, the path between us had closed once more, new plant-flesh sealing it shut.

The bad-thing roared again.

There might have been a hint of frustration that time.