Chrysalis

The Mother Tree had a name. At least, she’d had a name. The memory was there, vague and distant, tucked in the recesses of her mind. She could recall that she’d had feet, and hands, and eaten food, though such memories were so faint that she couldn’t really recall what it was like.

She’d done it, certainly, but how it had actually felt. That, she could no longer recall.

Birth, or rebirth, on Pangera, now that she could recall. The cold and heartless System welcome, followed by her awakening as a brand new life-form.

A plant-type monster. The sense of horror she’d felt was visceral, though now it was hard to relate to the person she’d been in that moment. Back then, the memories of being human, of being Rose, had been fresh. Trapped in a sightless, limbless form had been a nightmare. She hadn’t even had a mouth with which to scream.

Roots and leaves had seemed so foreign to her then, strange and useless. How attitudes shifted with the times. Were she offered a human body now, she would reject it out of hand. The plant was superior to the animal in every way. She’d just needed time to realise it.

[Rosa Spina.]

That had been her species. Perhaps a play on her name? Had that been enough to convince the System to reincarnate her as a plant? Or perhaps her work as a botanist had been the deciding factor.

Regardless, those early weeks had been difficult.

clashing,

Tree knew better, as had

of every day in a battle that will last until one of them succeeds and one of them dies. Competition for sunlight, for

the Dungeon, that battle played out too. It was faster,

seeking: mana. The more she had, the faster she grew, the faster she grew,

heart the first time she had touched another of her own kind, several days after her rebirth. There had never been any hope of cooperation between them, that

roots had invaded, choking her neighbour out of the precious mana supply, which she stole for herself. As the

excellent one. She would repeat that

emanate with light. Could the massive tree smile, she might have in that moment. Her children were playing. As creatures of pure energy, they intermingled and conversed with each other using the language only those born of the same soul could understand. It warmed her cold, wooden

they felt her gaze fall upon them, the bruan'chii danced and waved, and her spirit waved back at them, sending them zipping around each

Too pure

felt anger shake her branches. Even after all this time, even after all the strength and power she had accumulated, it still wasn’t enough. Without the intervention of