Although the first wave of Champions of the Root released during the initial confrontation had been overwheld by Amara, Zephirax, and Uriel, that victory had co under highly favorable conditions.
Back then, the Champions had been forced to manifest within the Matrix of the Universe, a domain whose fundantal principles weakened them. Even if that had not been the case, the threat Cain now witnessed was on an entirely different scale.
There were eighteen cocoons in this layer alone-eighteen
Champions of the Root-far more than the five supre powerhouses of the Sacred Race could hope to confront together, even with their newly acquired treasures and their improved mastery of the cosmic laws.
The only semblance of a silver lining Cain could find was that more than half of the cocoons did not carry a stable life force. Their energies flickered, unstable and incomplete, which ant those Champions were not yet ready to be deployed onto a battlefield without suffering severe backlash. Yet even that small comfort was not enough to ease Cain's tension. He could not afford to linger on hypothetical weaknesses. Every second he spent here increased the risk of discovery.
His thoughts were interrupted when several streams of spawns drifting across the seventh layer abruptly shifted direction and marched straight into the nearest cocoon. The massive fleshy structure opened like a ravenous wound and began grinding the spawns into its interior, consuming them without hesitation.
"Dammit." Cain cursed internally.
It wasn't enough that the spawn acted as guards, weapons, and drones-now it was clear they also served as food for the stronger lifeforms incubating within the Root.
The scene was truly repulsive, and it only grew worse when Cain noticed that even as the spawns were pulverized, their eyes continued to blink. They were still alive, still conscious, even as they were devoured. The Root allowed nothing to die-not even its own fodder. Life, pain, and vitality were simply recycled without end.
Cain forced the horror aside. His own stream of spawns was being pulled toward one of the cocoons as well. There was no point in lanting his luck. He triggered the only technique that might keep him alive.
His form began to dissolve, the faint glow of cosmic reflection fading from his skin until he beca invisible. That alone was not enough. A heartbeat later, his body shrank rapidly, compressing until he was small enough to slip through the eye of a needle.
Then ca the most dangerous part-the cloaking of his life and soul force. Both ceased to flow. They froze, becoming still, silent, and undetectable. Every trace of radiation, aura, and cosmic signature vanished from him entirely.
It was an incredibly perilous state to maintain, far more dangerous than stopping one's heartbeat. Freezing one's life force and soul force skirted the edge of self-annihilation. Even Cain could not endure this state for long without risking permanent damage. But for now, it worked. The countless organic eyes embedded in the ceiling, floor, and walls continued to scan the environnt without reacting.
The Heart of the Root had not detected him.
Carefully, he slipped from his dood stream and infiltrated another -one that was descending toward the eighth layer. Unfortunately, he could not simply return to his old disguise.
Disappearing into a mass of spawns that were being slaughtered by the hundreds was easy. Erging from nowhere, on the other hand, would imdiately draw attention. Every spawn was an extension of the Heart of the Root. Any anomaly would expose him instantly. That ant he had to remain hidden for the rest of the journey, no matter
the cost. And that ant he needed to move faster.
The eighth layer resembled the seventh in structure, but the atmosphere was far more oppressive. There were cocoons here as well, yet only nine of them.
Their number was smaller-but their power was vastly greater. The aura radiating from each cocoon made the Champions of the Root seem almost insignificant in comparison. The one at the very center was the most terrifying of all. Its pressure dwarfed even Anark's overwhelming might.
These were the cocoons of the High Lords of the Root, and the central cocoon belonged to none other than Radagon, the King of the
Root.
The purity and density of the cosmic principles embodied within these cocoons were overwhelming. It felt as though the very air was infused with absolute authority-an intrusive, corrosive dominion that threatened to twist his body and soul into alignnt with the Root's doctrine if he lingered too long.
Cain's breaths grew slow and asured as he felt a somber atmosphere settle over him.
Eight High Lords... plus eighteen Champions. The weight of that reality pressed on him like a mountain. If they complete their incubation, even with the support of the Universe Matrix, the resulting war would scar the fabric of creation itself.
He could almost envision it-entire worlds collapsing into rot and rebirth, galaxies drowned in parasitic life, and entire civilizations torn apart in a futile struggle against creatures that lacked vital points, possessed immortal bodies, and wielded cosmic gifts capable of rewriting reality.
"Even if we won," he thought grimly, "it would be a pyrrhic victory. Entire worlds would die. Tens of billions would be lost. The scars left behind might never heal."
If Cain still harbored any doubt about the danger of approaching this conflict as a defensive war, the sight before him shattered it completely. Right now, more than half of the Champions and nearly two-thirds of the High Lords were still gestating. Half-ford. Severely weakened. Vulnerable. Every day the Sacred Races hesitated, the Root's forces grew stronger. Every second they waited, the advantage slipped further from their grasp.
"This should be enough for them to understand," Cain thought, a cold glint forming in his eyes. "Enough to crush any hope of a defensive
approach. Enough to force them to act."
He engraved everything before him into the depths of his mory, ensuring that Cipher and the others would witness these scenes exactly as he had. Their alliance needed clarity-not hesitation, not fear, not illusions of safety. Only decisive action could save their universe now.
At this mont, Cain could withdraw. He could leave the Heart of the
Root without being noticed. His escape route was open. His mission, strictly speaking, was already fulfilled.
But as he turned his gaze toward the exit, his eyes drifted downward.
There was still one more layer.
The ninth.
"If the eighth layer holds the King of the Root," Cain thought, tension tightening within him, "then what does the ninth contain?"
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