Chapter 80
Kakarot's tiny fingers dug into my collarbone, his breath coming in wet hitches. The spores were inside him now—I could see them glowing beneath his skin like fireflies in a jar. But when he coughed, it wasn't blood that sprayed my cheek; it was flecks of gold ki. The trees hesitated. For the first time, I smelled something new wafting from Bardock: not sweat, not blood—pride.
Raditz's elbow connected with my spine, shoving me forward as the ground erupted behind us. "Run? Or fight?" he panted, his remaining armor dissolving down to bare skin. I didn't answer—just twisted to sink my teeth into the vine aiming for his blind spot. The taste was electric, like licking a live wire drenched in bile. But as the vine withered, I glimpsed our reflection in its shrinking surface: four figures haloed in emerald fire, backlit by a dying forest. Not refugees. Not victims. A pack. The trees screamed again, but this time, it sounded almost like fear.
Mother choked on her own laughter when Bardock punched through the Elite's chest. Her fingers were already busy—not shielding my eyes, but adjusting my grip on the stolen blaster. "Eyes up," she hissed, pressing my palm against the weapon's humming core. "You don't aim with your hands." The gun flared crimson just as Raditz's boot crushed the last of the scrambling vines. Later, I'd remember the smell—ozone and burning sap—but right then, all I saw were my brother's bared teeth. Not a smile. A promise
.
Bardock yanked the Elite's corpse free from his fist with a wet crunch, tossing it aside like discarded armor plating. His scouter flickered—not with warnings, but with coordinates. "Freighter's docked at sector seven," he growled, wiping gore from his face with the back of his wrist. Raditz's eyes locked onto mine, pupils dilated black with adrenaline. I could feel his pulse through the blaster's vibration against my palm, rapid-fire like the gunshots still echoing through the canopy
.
The blaster's recoil nearly tore my wrist backwards, but Mother's grip held firm. Crimson light painted the vines recoiling overhead, their shrieks blending with Raditz's snarled curse as he spun to catch the next strike bare-handed. His fingers sank into pulsating bark—and then Kakarot was there, small and impossibly fast, driving his knee into the vine's joint with a crack like splitting stone. Something warm splattered my cheek. Not blood. Sap that hissed where it touched skin.
Bardock didn't wait. He lunged forward, his scouter's fractured lens casting jagged green shards across his face. "Move!" The order came out half-roar, half static. Behind him, the Elite's corpse twitched—not resurrection, but whatever nightmare those vines were stitching into its hollowed-out chest. Mother yanked me sideways just as the first barbed tendril shot through where my head had been, embedding itself in a tree trunk that immediately began to blacken and curl
.
The world tilted as Mother swung me onto her hip, my blaster still sputtering feeble shots into the writhing mass of vines. Kakarot's laughter rang out—high and wild—as he somersaulted over a grasping tendril, driving both heels into its base with enough force to spray chips of calcified bark. Raditz wasn't laughing. His hands were buried elbow-deep in the Elite's corpse, muscles straining as he physically held the twitching chest cavity open. "They're using the bodies as conduits!" he roared, veins standing out along his temples
.
I smelled it before I saw it—burnt sugar and rotting copper—as the vines threading through the Elite's ribcage began to glow. Bardock's scouter exploded in a shower of sparks just as he tackled Raditz sideways, the ensuing blast shearing off the treetops above us in a corona of violet flame. Mother's fingers dug into my thigh, her breath hot against my ear. "Now you aim," she whispered—and let go
.
The blaster bucked in my hands like a living thing, its crimson beam lancing straight through the collapsing vortex where the Elite's heart should've been. For one suspended second, everything was silent except for Kakarot's delighted gasp. Then the vines detonated inward, sucking the surrounding air into a vacuum that stripped the leaves from nearby branches.
Bardock emerged from the smoke first, one arm dangling at a wrong angle, his other hand clenched around Raditz's scruff. "Freighter," he coughed out, flecks of blackened sap spattering the ground between his boots. Behind us, the forest exhaled—a wet, shuddering sound that raised the hair on my neck. Not dead. Just waiting. Raditz spat out a tooth and grinned. "Race you," he rasped, already launching himself over the smoldering crater. Kakarot whooped, blurring past him in a streak of wild energy. Mother didn't run. She walked backward instead, her palm hovering near my trembling wrist. Watching. Always watching.