Three days after the sanctuary breach.
Ethan crouched in the maintenance tunnel beneath Brooklyn's Gowanus Canal, watching three Thornbound soldiers patrol the old water treatment plant above. Through the rusted grate, he could see their boots—heavy, tactical, confident, the kind worn by people who've never been hunted.
They had no idea he was there.
[LE: 312/500]
[Targets Detected: 3]
[Primordial Quest Progress: 0/50]
Mira's voice crackled in the earpiece Sylvia had given him. "You see them?"
"Yeah," Ethan whispered.
"Good. Remember—control. No overload. Drain them slow."
"Got it."
"And Ethan?" Pause. "Make them regret signing up."
The line went dead.
Ethan exhaled.
Felt the roots around his heart pulse—thump-thump—calm, steady, not hungry.
Not yet.
He'd spent the last three days training with Kaito, learning to negotiate with the Primordial instead of being consumed by it. The trick, Kaito explained, was respect. The Primordial was ancient, powerful, but not malicious—it didn't want to destroy him, it wanted to grow, and growth required a living host.
So Ethan made a deal:
I feed you. You don't eat me from the inside.
Simple.
Brutal.
Effective.
And now—
Time to collect.
Ethan placed his palm against the concrete floor.
Closed his eyes.
ROOT SENSE.
His awareness expanded—down through the tunnel floor, into the earth, through pipes and bedrock and forgotten subway tunnels, and up, into the treatment plant. He could feel the building's foundation, the water in the pipes, the mold growing in the walls.
And the soldiers.
Three of them.
Walking. Talking. Laughing about something.
One was standing directly above a crack in the floor.
Where roots had already begun to grow.
Ethan smiled.
"Gotcha."
He channeled LE into the ground.
[ROOT SNARE: ACTIVATED]
[-32 LE]
Beneath the soldier's feet, roots erupted—fast, silent—and wrapped around his ankles, yank, dragged him down through the floor into the maintenance tunnel, and the soldier didn't even have time to scream because Ethan was on him in seconds, hand pressed to the man's chest—
LIFE DRAIN.
The soldier's eyes went wide.
Tried to shout—
Roots sprouted from his mouth.
Silencing him.
His LE flooded into Ethan—warm, electric, delicious—and Ethan felt the familiar rush, the one that tasted like copper and wet earth and something floral-sweet that his hindbrain whispered wrong wrong WRONG but his body didn't care, his body just drank—
[+89 LE Absorbed]
[Current: 401/500]
[Primordial Quest Progress: 1/50]
The soldier's body withered.
Skin turning grey. Eyes going dull.
Ethan released him.
The corpse slumped.
Roots continued growing from it—slow, methodical, wrapping the body in a cocoon of vines, composting, and Ethan didn't feel guilty, he felt satisfied, because these were the same soldiers who'd killed twenty-three people in the sanctuary, the same ones who sprayed herbicide, who hunted Users like animals—
Now they were fertilizer.
Above, shouting.
"CARTER?! WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU—"
Ethan moved.
The second soldier was younger.
Early twenties. Nervous. Kept glancing at the hole in the floor where his partner had disappeared.
"Carter, this isn't funny—"
Ethan dropped from the ceiling vent behind him.
Silent.
Grabbed the soldier's shoulder.
LIFE DRAIN.
The soldier spun—tried to raise his rifle—but Ethan's other hand shot forward, palm to the man's chest, full contact, and the LE surge was instant, the soldier gasping, rifle clattering to the ground, and vines erupted from Ethan's forearm—not wild, controlled—wrapping around the soldier's torso, pinning his arms.
"Wait—wait please—"
"You didn't wait for them," Ethan said quietly.
He drained him.
Slowly.
Watching the light fade from the soldier's eyes.
Feeling his LE tick up.
[+76 LE Absorbed]
[Current: 477/500]
[Primordial Quest Progress: 2/50]
Ethan let the body drop.
Stepped over it.
The third soldier was running.
Smart.
(But not smart enough.)
Ethan chased him through the treatment plant—not sprinting, walking, calm, steady, because he didn't need to run, the building was his now, he could feel every root in the foundation, every vine growing through cracks in the walls, every place the Primordial had spread.
The soldier ran into a storage room.
Slammed the door.
Barricaded it with a metal shelf.
Ethan stopped outside.
Pressed his hand against the door.
"You can't hide," he said.
"FUCK YOU!" the soldier shouted. "Backup's coming! You're dead!"
"Maybe." Ethan channeled LE into the wall. "But you'll be dead first."
Roots erupted from the floor inside the storage room.
The soldier screamed.
They wrapped around his legs, his arms, his throat, dragged him to the ground, and Ethan opened the door, walked inside, and the soldier was pinned, struggling, eyes wild—
"Please—please I have a family—"
"So did David Park," Ethan said.
He didn't recognize his own voice.
Cold.
Flat.
Primordial.
He crouched beside the soldier.
Placed his hand on the man's forehead.
LIFE DRAIN.
The soldier's scream turned into a wheeze.
Then silence.
[+82 LE Absorbed]
[Current: 500/500 – LE CAPPED]
[Excess converting to: GROWTH POINTS]
[+12 GP gained]
[Primordial Quest Progress: 3/50]
Ethan stood.
Looked at the three bodies—all grey, withered, empty—and he should feel something, guilt or horror or regret, but all he felt was—
Hunger.
Still hungry.
Ethan's hands clenched.
"No," he muttered. "I'm not a monster."
(Debatable.)
He forced himself to look away from the bodies.
Activated the earpiece.
"Mira. It's done."
"All three?"
"Yeah."
"Clean?"
Pause.
"...Yeah."
"Good." A pause. "How do you feel?"
Ethan looked at his hands—glowing faintly, green light pulsing beneath the skin.
"I feel... strong," he admitted.
"That's the LE talking. Don't get addicted."
"I won't."
"Everyone says that." Mira's voice was sharp. "Get back to the safehouse. We debrief in an hour."
"Copy."
He turned to leave—
And stopped.
On the wall.
Graffiti.
Fresh.
Spray-painted in red:
"THE HARVEST KNOWS YOUR NAME, SEEDBED."
Below it—a symbol.
A thorned rose. Dripping.
Briar's calling card.
Ethan felt the roots around his heart tighten.
He stared at the symbol.
Then smiled.
Cold.
Dangerous.
"Good," he whispered. "Let her come."