Echoterra: Rise of the Verdant King-Chapter 95: Echoes of ash

A day ago, Clayton dropped the bombshell.

"This is my home".

...

Day 61...

The Scorchpaths Outskirts loomed; a volcanic wasteland of ash dunes and glowing Scorchshrines, once the New Arizona District.

Of course, the team didn’t know that the Scorchpaths Outskirts was once the New Arizona District till Clayton told them.

They were all shocked.

And now, Clayton led the team through cracked highways, Shedskin cloaking his Verdant Lord aura as tattered rags, Regalia of the Verdant Warden in spear form, Thornshade Dagger humming at his hip.

His Architect Aspect thrummed, restrained to blend with the team.

Their Mycoglyph-etched pagers pulsed steadily, the Earthcore Nexus’s hum low but ominous.

The Aphid Network, just 36 minions now, hunted minimally, Spore Crown securing a small Embers gain.

Clayton’s Territorial Sentience pinged Ashen Covenants’ Ember Witches, their matriarchal council’s rituals a steady pulse.

A Scorchshrine’s embers glowed nearby, Scorched Clans sigils etched in ash.

His Rootsite stood far behind.

And yet, here he was, home again.

But home looked different. Home was nothing but a ruin now.

At first, when Clayton told his teammates that he was born and grew up in the Scorchpaths Outskirts, they didn’t believe him. Afterall, this city was supposed to have been lost to the Behemorphs long ago.

So, how was Clayton born here?

They only believed after seeing how serious it was, though they still felt it was strange. Since then, the way Torren looked at Clayton changed slightly.

The leader of the team finally understood why Clayton’s temperament changed, and it was why he made the decision for them to make a stop at the Scorchpaths Outskirts, maybe spend a day or two to recover before continuing their journey to Africa.

Afterall, the 60-day grueling trek already drained them.

They were tired and needed rest and replenishment.

Home.

The ruins stirred memories, memories Clayton once thought were already lost due to the passage of time, memories etched at the deepest parts of his brain, memories of cracked asphalt, of rusted solar panels, and of the roar of a track race.

He froze, eyes distant, seeing a boy scavenging for scraps over 300 years ago, before the Genesis Protocols.

"You good?" Torren asked, patting his shoulder, as he had the day before when Clayton revealed his birthplace.

Clayton forced a smile, voice rough. "I was born right here". His smile hid a hint of melancholy.

"I scavenged right in these streets. I raced tracks to eat". He pointed to a crumbled oval, once a racing circuit.

He smiled. "That’s where I learned to run".

Kaelin whistled. "You, a racer? Damn".

Veyra looked at him, fascinated. "You raced to eat?"

Clayton looked at her, and smiled. "Of course. You think back then, there were resources and food lying about in ruins to scavenge?"

Veyra frowned slightly in confusion. "Back then? Like, how back then do you mean?"

Clayton laughed. "You wouldn’t believe anyway".

Veyra didn’t press though she really wanted to right now. In the end, she just smiled, her eyes softening as she nodded, while Lorn watched quietly, their bond deepened by his truth.

Clayton really wanted to just stay here, reminisce and mourn the remains of what was left of his home, his city.

But of course, reality wouldn’t just let it.

His Territorial Sentience pinged right as a war cry broke the moment.

"F*ck!" He stifled a curse.

Five Scorched Clans scavengers, all Initiate Ember, wielding Ashfang Daggers ambushed from a ruined solar farm, seeking their Genesis Embers.

Clayton raised his head to look at them, eyes dim with dark humor. "Can’t I enjoy just a day without you guys f*cking it up?"

"Well, since you want to f*ck up my die, I’ll f*ck up your life!"

He moved.

Torren also moved, unleashing his Flamevine Wrath as it bound a scavenger, Veyra’s Thornstrike arrows already hitting another with accuracy right in between his eyebrows, piercing his skull and killing him on the spot.

Lorn shielded Soren who erupted with Emberblade strikes, while Kaelin’s Ashveil Cloak dodged, daggers precise.

Kaelin didn’t have to do much, the others had it under control.

This group must be suicidal to ambush a group like theirs without at least 1 Luminous Seed powerhouse to lead them.

But then Clayton realized. They were not part of a band.

Doesn’t matter though. They were suicidal still.

Clayton thrust Regalia’s spear, impaling a scavenger with ruthless efficiency. To add flame to fire, he twisted the spear inside his opponent, causing him agony and pain even as he slashed with Thornshade Dagger, venom dousing flames.

He kept Aphid Network hidden still, commanding minimal hunts via Hive-Sight.

The team downed the scavengers, the last fleeing into the ash.

DING!

~----~

[Enemies Defeated: 4 Scorched Clans Scavengers (Initiate Ember)]

[Aphid Network Losses: 1 Initiate Ember Minion]

[Genesis Embers Acquired: 24 (Team Kills)]

[Genesis Embers Acquired: 5 (Random Network Hunts)]

[Genesis Embers Total: 4,453]

[Aspect Strain: Low]

~----~

Staring at the dead bodies, Clayton stifled another cursed.

The team rested by the racing track, Nexus’s pulse stirring Clayton’s memories. Maybe the scavengers were the trigger, but with his back laying down on the racing track, eyes unfocused and looking at the sky, gears turned in his head, taking him back to centuries ago.

...

Flashback: Childhood, Age 10.

Clayton, scrawny and desperate, scavenged a rusted market, dodging gang militias.

A Furnace Core’s heat pulsed nearby, its glow sparking his first Awakening flicker, nearly killing him.

Then, he didn’t understand what it was though.

A smuggler, Jessa, saved him, teaching him to barter and run.

Her betrayal years later, stealing his salvage and leaving him for dead with no help scarred him, forging his guarded nature against people.

Thinking of Jessa, Clayton could not help but smile bitterly.

He wondered what her fate was. It’s been 300 years, maybe she was long dead ago already, maybe she was dragged into Echoterra for the Genesis trials and didn’t even survive it.

Or maybe she was still in a trial.

Noting his restlessness, Veyra touched his arm. She looked at their surroundings. "My sister once ran caravans here. Lost her to raiders".

Soren muttered. "My brother scavenged too. He died for it".

Clayton nodded, their shared pain a quiet bond. He didn’t have to say it for them to know, they could tell that meeting the scavengers triggered a memory.

"Let’s push deeper. Let’s help Clayton explore his city before leaving".

The team moved, Clayton’s past heavy, Ashen Covenants closer.

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