Gardener of Eden

Chapter 192: Chapter 192: Rueben’s Death (2)

With the Rot-Weaver’s connection to the floor’s ley-lines severed and his violent core implosion smothered, Rowan lifted the Hoe of the World-Tiller high above his head. His golden-amber eyes flared with absolute domain authority as he slammed the forged edge straight into the heart of the corrupted bedrock.

[Breath of Eden - Lv. 5]

A colossal wave of radiant, golden light exploded outward from the point of impact, surging in a roaring 360-degree shockwave across the entirety of the cavernous abyss.

The effect was instantaneous and staggering. Where the golden tide rushed, the thick, suffocating clouds of purple miasma didn’t just recede—their chemical and magical composition was broken down at the atomic level. The airborne necrotic spores dissolved into harmless, sweet-smelling morning mist. The pools of bubbling, soul-rotting sludge hissed loudly, their corrosive venom neutralized in seconds as they solidified into rich, pitch-black, hyper-fertile soil that glowed with primordial vitality.

Even the massive, hollow dead tree holding Rueben felt the overwhelming wash of Eden’s authority. The weeping, rot-soaked black bark was scrubbed clean, the ancient wood hardening into sturdy, uncorrupted ironwood as fresh emerald moss and blooming spirit-vines rapidly wrapped around its roots.

Rueben’s volatile toxins—the very weapons that had decimated Oakhaven and poisoned lower floor ecosystems—were stripped of all potency, rendered entirely inert against the unyielding force of Rowan’s domain.

Suspended helplessly against the purified trunk, Rueben let out a dry, raspy wheeze. His crazed, bloodshot eyes widened in absolute, soul-crushing despair as he felt every drop of necrotic magic drained from his body and the surrounding environment. His skin turned ash-gray, his shattered core channels completely empty, leaving him nothing more than a broken, impotent old man pinned to a tree by Mirei’s wind-bound arrows.

”My... my poison...” Rueben wept pathetically, black tears streaking down his gaunt cheeks. ”My rot... swallowed... by dirt...?”

Seraphina lowered her Crucible of Eternal Transmutation, watching the last traces of toxic mist evaporate into clean air. ”His poison potency is at absolute zero,” she reported, her voice icy and devoid of pity. ”He has no mana left to circulate, no core energy to detonate, and zero offensive capability.”

Caelen stepped out from behind his guardian energy wall, the broad blade of the Edge of the First Warden resting over his shoulder, while Barney let out a long, satisfied grunt, lowering the Hammer of the Sunken Bastion.

”Look at that,” Barney smirked, gesturing with his thumb at the lush, green floor now spreading across Floor 12. ”You turned a toxic landfill into a prime farming plot in five seconds flat, boss.”

Mirei maintained her draw on the Breeze-Striker Longbow, her sharp eyes locked onto Rueben’s twitching form, waiting for the final command.

Rowan pulled the Hoe of the World-Tiller from the pristine soil, resting it casually over his shoulder as he walked up to the base of the blooming tree. He adjusted the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat, looking up at the ruined S-Rank dark mage with an unshakeable, icy composure.

”The Order of Humanity’s lower-floor cells are gone,” Rowan said quietly, his voice echoing through the newly purified cavern. ”Your supply lines are burnt to ash, your poison is useless, and Floor 12 is clean.”

Rowan gave a subtle nod to his squad. ”Finish it.”

***

Rowan swung the handle of his tool down, striking the pristine earth at his feet with heavy, decisive force.

[Vines of the Thorns]

(Cost: 30 Mana | Cooldown: 15 seconds)

A surge of green and golden mana shot straight into the ground. In an instant, rapid-growth brambles erupted in a five-meter radius around the base of the tree, their thick, razor-sharp vines surging upward like striking vipers. The thorny patch dug deep into the soil, wrapping tightly around Rueben’s remaining limbs and pulling him down. The sharp thorns sank through his robes, pinning him firmly into the earth and inflicting continuous nature damage that tore through what little flesh he had left.

Before the Rot-Weaver could even attempt to wriggle free from the roots, Seraphina stepped forward with cold, merciless precision. Reaching into her belt, she unclipped two glass incendiary flasks filled with compressed, alchemical flame and hurled them directly into the center of the thorny patch.

At the exact same instant, Mirei pulled the string of her Breeze-Striker Longbow to her cheek. In a blinding flash, a barrage of translucent shafts imbued with raw, roaring mana streaked through the air. The arrows sliced straight through the incendiary flasks mid-flight, shattering the glass and igniting the chemical fluid into a roaring inferno.

THWACK-THWACK-THWACK-THWACK!

The arrows transfixed Rueben’s torso, shoulders, and chest, pinning him so densely that he looked like a burning porcupine. The alchemical fire clung to his flesh, devouring his corrupted mana and turning his body into a charred, crumbling shell of black carbon. Rueben’s agonizing shrieks echoed violently off the cavern walls as his stolen life force burned away to nothing.

Through the blinding fire and ash, Rowan launched himself into the air, his silhouette cutting cleanly through the smoke above the burning pyre.

[Scythe of the Harvester]

(Cost: 25 Mana | Cooldown: 8 seconds)

A dense braid of whistling wind and heavy earth mana condensed along the razor-sharp edge of his weapon, radiating a dangerous, emerald-gold light. Rowan rotated his body in mid-air, delivering a wide, sweeping horizontal strike across the inferno.

SLASH!

The arc of pressurized earth and wind cleaved through the flames with absolute, terrifying ease. The edge passed cleanly through Rueben’s charred, carbonized neck, taking the S-Rank dark mage’s head clean off his shoulders before his shrieks could even fade.

The decapitated head landed with a dull thud in the soft, glowing soil below, dissolving into harmless gray ash under the ambient influence of [Breath of Eden - Lv. 5]. Rueben ”The Rot-Weaver”—the terror of Oakhaven and the leader of the Order’s lower-floor operations—was officially dead.

***

The lingering embers of alchemical fire flickered out, leaving only a quiet, peaceful silence where Rueben’s maddened shrieks had echoed moments before. Ash blew softly across the newly sprouted emerald grass, completely swallowed by the pure, uncorrupted soil.

Rowan sheathed his weapon and turned toward his team, resting the handle of the Hoe of the World-Tiller against his boot.

”Find a place to rest and recover,” Rowan said, his golden-amber eyes scanning the vast, blighted horizon of Floor 12 that still stretched beyond their immediate vantage. ”I’ll do what I can to slowly purify this floor and remove the remaining corruption and poison.”

Barney let out a heavy, satisfied breath, lower jaw relaxing as he unceremoniously dropped the head of the Hammer of the Sunken Bastion into the soft ground. ”You don’t have to tell me twice, boss. Swinging fifty tons of kinetic shock-steel against S-Rank miasma will work up an appetite.”

Caelen wiped his greatsword clean before sheathing the Edge of the First Warden with a crisp click. He picked out a high, grassy ridge within the already-purified domain circle, setting down his gear to establish a defensive resting perimeter. ”The spatial frequency on this floor is stabilizing now that the core corruption is gone. Take your time, Rowan. We have the perimeter secure.”

Seraphina retrieved a folding wooden bench and a set of crystal tea strainers from her spatial ring, while Mirei effortlessly vaulted up onto a low-hanging branch of the newly transformed ironwood tree, keeping a watchful bow ready across her knees as she unclasped a satchel of dried Sun-Crystalline Eden Apples.

While Squad 07 set up a comfortable camp in the lush oasis they had reclaimed, Rowan stepped out past the edge of the golden barrier and into the thick, dark sloughs of remaining rot.

He didn’t rush. Having already burned through a massive portion of his core reserves back in Floor 10’s subterranean vaults, Rowan paced his mana consumption with practiced efficiency.

Walking barefoot across the line where living grass met bubbling, purple-black tar, Rowan raised the Hoe of the World-Tiller and tapped its forged tip into the corrupted bedrock at a steady, rhythmic cadence.

[Breath of Eden - Lv. 5]

A calm, golden ripple cascaded outward—not in a violent, explosive shockwave, but in a gentle, rolling wave of liquid sunlight. The primordial energy sank deep into Floor 12’s shattered subterranean veins, binding with the subterranean Fragment of the Origin Earth Pulse miles below.

Where the golden wave washed, the transformation was mesmerizing.

The acrid, acidic stench that had choked Floor 12 for years dissolved into the crisp, sweet aroma of fresh rain and turned earth. Pools of boiling, soul-rotting sludge hissed softly as their dark catalysts were broken down at the molecular level, solidifying into pitch-black, hyper-fertile loam packed with primordial minerals.

Cracked, blackened ley-line crystals embedded in the cavern walls flared, weeping away their toxic violet bile before relighting with brilliant, pristine azure and emerald radiance. From the freshly scrubbed earth, thick carpets of glowing spirit-moss, wild clover, and vibrant blooming earth-lilies sprouted in Rowan’s wake, spreading like a golden-green wildfire across the cavern floor.

Rowan walked for hours through the quiet abyss, stepping from cavern to cavern, systematically tracing every main vein of poison Rueben had left behind. Each strike of the hoe brought life back to dead stone; each pulse of Eden’s breath forced the floor’s corrupted ecosystem to submit and reform.

By the time the final pocket of miasma evaporated from the highest cavern ceiling, Floor 12—once known as the horrifying Blighted Veins—had been completely reshaped into a serene, subterranean paradise of rolling, flower-covered hills and crystal-clear underground springs.

Rowan adjusted the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat and wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead, looking back toward the camp.

A warm fire was crackling on the ridge. Barney was happily roasting thick skewers of marinated meat over the fire, Seraphina was pouring fresh herbal tea brewed with purified spring water, and Caelen and Mirei were resting peacefully under the soft, ambient glow of the fully restored ley-line crystals.

Walking back across the pristine, flower-strewn meadow, Rowan rested the Hoe of the World-Tiller over his shoulder, a calm, deeply satisfied smirk settling onto his face. The Order of Humanity was erased from the lower floors, the Rot-Weaver was dead, and the Tower had a brand-new garden.