Bloodline Plant Lord: Rise of the World Sovereign

The heat hit him before his foot touched down.

Ren stepped through the arch and landed on black rock, a low shelf just past the door; warm water lapped over his boots. The passage was behind him, grey and quiet, with his own cool morning still showing through it like a window.

In front of him was the other world.

The sea was black. Not just dark — black, like spilled ink, flat all the way to the edge of seeing. The sky above was the color of an old iron pot, low and heavy, without a sun in sight. Islands poked out of the water here and there, each a broken-off cone leaking smoke. Some of that smoke glowed near the base.

And on the water, the fires.

They floated there.

Small ones, big ones, sitting on the surface with nothing underneath to burn. Red ones drifted nearby, white ones burned sharp and bright farther out, and one blue flame sat low against the water in the distance. Others were far enough away they were just little dots of color.

Ren stayed on the shelf and looked.

Nobody was trying to kill him yet, so he might as well use the time.

’Okay,’ he thought. ’So that’s what a sea on fire looks like.’

The spore on his sleeve suddenly went cold.

Ren looked down.

Keep’s spore — the little pale plant from the shallows, the hive of one — had put a piece of itself on him last night to listen in. The quiet channel at the back of Ren’s head had been open all the way to the arch.

Now the channel was simply gone. Not faint — gone.

[SPORELINK: NO SIGNAL.]

”Yeah,” Ren said to the spore. ”I figured.”

He brushed it once with a finger so it would know he’d noticed, then left it where it was.

— • —

He crouched at the edge of the shelf and put his hand into the sea.

Warm. Warmer than bathwater.

It felt heavy too, thick with black grit that slid between his fingers; when he lifted his hand, the water ran off slower than it should have.

Ren held some in his palm and reached through it with his Water law.

It was real water.

A lot of burned mountain was mixed into it, plus something else he couldn’t name. A faint pressure sat over everything — close enough to Fire that he could feel the connection, but strange enough that he wasn’t going to guess.

He took one seed from the bag at his belt.

One of his mother’s flowers.

In the sunken world, flowers seeded in water had once saved his life.

He dropped it in.

The seed sank to the black rock beneath the surface and stayed there.

Nothing.

No root. No stir.

It was still alive, Ren could feel that much; it just wasn’t growing.

’Something in the water doesn’t like Life,’ he thought.

That was enough for now.

He fished the seed out and slipped it into his pocket instead of putting it back with the others.

His own sea was still in storage, cold and enormous and very much alive; if he needed growing water, he had some.

— • —

The red fire had drifted closer while he crouched.

It sat about a stone’s throw from the shelf, roughly the size of a bonfire, with no wood under it and no reason Ren could see for it to stay lit.

He had the distinct feeling it was facing him.

Ren stood and scanned it.

[SCAN: NO SEPARATE TARGET. THE FLAME IS THE THING.]

Scans usually found something beneath the surface — a core, a heart, a weak point, some piece that mattered.

Here, there wasn’t one.

The flames leaned toward him.

An arm came out.

Then a shoulder.

Then a head with no face.

The body that climbed from the fire was made of black stone, cracked from head to foot, with red light pulsing inside the fissures. It stood out of the flame the way a man might stand out of deep water, taller than Ren by a head, and reached for the shelf.

Ren cut its arm off.

His hand was already a blade; he’d shaped the edge the moment the fire turned toward him, and a thin line of Death went with it.

The stone arm hit the sea and hissed.

A replacement grew from the shoulder before the first one even sank.

’Right,’ Ren thought. ’Still connected.’

He stepped back.

The creature followed.

One foot came out of the fire.

Then the other.

The flame it left behind shrank until it looked almost ordinary.

The System panels appeared.

[RACE: PYREBORN.]

[HEARTFLAME: EMBERFIRE.]

[HEARTFLAME GRADE: EMBER.]

[LAW COMPOSITION: FIRE.]

[DANGER TO HOST: MODERATE.]

Ren caught the important parts before the thing reached him.

Pyreborn was the race.

Emberfire was its Heartflame type.

Ember was some kind of maturity grade, not a cultivation stage or a lifeform tier.

Moderate.

Manageable, assuming the scan wasn’t feeling optimistic.

Then the fist arrived.

— • —

Ren caught the first punch on crossed arms.

It felt like getting hit by a wall someone had left in an oven.

He slid back two steps, his sleeves smoking.

The seed-torc at his collar woke before the second strike landed; black flowers opened across his forearms and took the blow, their petals darkening at the edges.

Ren went under the third swing.

Up close, the creature made more sense.

The stone wasn’t the real body. It was a shell.

Every line of red light running through the cracks led back to one point in the middle of its chest, a flame no bigger than a plum.

Ren didn’t bother trying to carve through all the stone around it.

He opened storage.

Cold seawater dropped on the Pyreborn.

Not all of it.

Just about a house’s worth.

The water hit the burning stone and exploded into steam.

For a second, the entire shelf disappeared behind white.

When the steam cleared, the Pyreborn was still standing, though not particularly well.

The red light inside its cracks had dimmed; the outer stone had gone grey and brittle in places, and it moved slower now.

’Good enough.’

Ren drove the point of his hand into one of the widened cracks over its chest.

The blade went through.

The Heartflame flashed gold once.

Then it went out with the sound of a hot coal dropped into a bucket.

The stone shell collapsed into black ash.

A wave came over the shelf and took most of it away.

Something small remained burning where its chest had been.

— • —

[PYREBORN TERMINATED.]

[HEARTFLAME COLLAPSING.]

[LAW EMBER FORMED.]

Ren waded out.

The ember was about the size of a plum, red all the way through and burning on the surface without spreading fire to the water.

He held a hand near it.

Heat pushed against his skin.

Ren wrapped his fingers in cold water from storage and picked it up.

It hissed.

The ember kept burning.

[LAW EMBER: EMBERFIRE. CONTAINS: FIRE.]

[ENDLESS GRAFT COMPATIBLE.]

[GRAFTING UNAVAILABLE WITHIN FRAGMENT.]

”Course not,” Ren said.

He put it into storage while it was still burning.

Ren stood there for a moment, sorting through what he actually knew.

The creatures living in these fires were Pyreborn.

While the first one remained inside its Lawfire, there had been no separate body to kill. Once it manifested outside, its Heartflame condensed inside a stone shell and became vulnerable.

Cold water had worked well against that shell.

Whether it would work on anything else here was somebody else’s problem until Ren met that somebody else.

Killing the exposed Heartflame left behind a Law Ember, and that Law Ember could be grafted once he got home.

That was enough information for one fight.

”That one was easy, Ren,” Kaia said, her sweet voice reaching him from the tree a whole world away. ”The next one is looking at you.”

Ren turned.

— • —

There was blue light under the water.

Not on it.

Under it.

A long shape moved toward the shelf along the sea floor, blue fire wrapped around something dark and fluid; the water above it boiled as it passed and somehow never put the flame out.

It reached the shelf and rose.

Black water climbed out of black water.

It took a tall, narrow human shape without ever becoming solid; Ren could see grit turning slowly inside the body.

Blue fire burned in its chest.

In one hand it carried a spear made from the same flame, somehow narrow and hard enough at the tip to look sharp.

[RACE: PYREBORN.]

[HEARTFLAME: TIDEFIRE.]

[HEARTFLAME GRADE: FLAME.]

[LAW COMPOSITION: FIRE / WATER.]

[DANGER TO HOST: HIGH.]

Ren set his feet and brought his blade-hand up.

The Tidefire raised its spear.

Then it looked past him.

At the black ash washing along the shelf.

At the last pieces of the stone shell disappearing into the sea.

At the smaller red fire still floating where the Emberfire had first climbed out.

It stayed like that for several seconds.

Then the Tidefire slowly lowered its spear.

Its point touched the water and sent steam curling around its feet.

It didn’t retreat, but it didn’t advance either.

Ren watched it.

Then he let the edge sink back into his forearm and lowered his hand.

The Tidefire spoke.

The sound reminded him of steam escaping a pipe with stones knocking together underneath. There was rhythm to it, stops and changes in pitch, something that sounded very much like a sentence.

Then it waited.

Ren understood absolutely none of it.

[SAPIENCE: CONFIRMED.]

He looked at the panel, then at the ash still drifting away behind him.

’This isn’t a hunting ground,’ Ren thought. ’It’s somebody’s country.’