Research on evolvers was clear: when a human absorbed a spirit?plant extract, more than ninety percent died instantly. The survivors suffered catastrophic side effects.

  In short—if it didn’t kill you, it ruined you.

  But those cases involved evolvers absorbing extracts one tier above their own.

  Quentin Vilewind was a four?time evolver, a Saint?tier monster. He should be absorbing Tier?5 materials.

  The Rooted Spirit Tree’s extract wasn’t truly Tier?5. It only carried faint traces of Tier?5 characteristics.

  So Evan had no idea whether it would kill Quentin… or merely make him violently ill.

  And Quentin had just drunk a massive amount of tree marrow—one of the greatest healing substances in existence. Even if the extract harmed him, the tree marrow might save him.

  Evan had no choice but to gamble.

  He watched Quentin stand motionless after drinking the mixture, staring blankly into space. His eyes were dull—familiar, vacant, stupid.

  No reaction.

  Did the toxicity and the tree marrow cancel each other out?

  Evan waved a hand in front of Quentin’s face.

  Nothing.

  Is he… actually brain?dead?

  If so, this was the perfect chance to escape.

  He turned to leave—then stopped.

  His gaze drifted toward a mound of roots nearby. Something beneath them bulged slightly.

  He hesitated, then checked Quentin again. Still no reaction.

  Evan’s courage grew.

  He had risked his life too many times today. He deserved something to show for it.

  He grabbed Quentin’s portable extractor, yanked it free from the dead Rooted Spirit Tree, and hurried to the mound.

  He pushed aside several thick roots, revealing a patch of striped fur.

  The corpse of the Tier?4 tiger beast.

  The tree had drained its flesh and energy, but its evolutionary material remained.

  Evan lifted the extractor and drove the needle into the tiger’s hide. The machine hummed to life.

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  Moments later, a vial of Tier?4 extract slid into place.

  Evan pocketed it and turned to leave—then froze again.

  His eyes drifted to Quentin’s ebony storage ring.

  I’m too greedy. This is how people die…

  But his feet were already moving.

  He approached Quentin, reached for the ring— and stopped dead.

  Quentin’s finger had sprouted a leaf.

  Not a real leaf— a fleshy, skin?textured growth with human pores and veins.

  Evan’s stomach lurched.

  More sprouts burst from Quentin’s face, scalp, chest, thighs—everywhere.

  His skin hardened into bark. His hair twisted into thin root tendrils. His arms elongated, reshaping into branch?like limbs.

  His eyes bulged— and something inside them pushed outward, forming writhing fleshy tendrils.

  Evan’s entire body broke into goosebumps.

  Holy— he’s turning into a plant.

  He stumbled backward, horrified.

  The storage ring was forgotten. Survival was all that mattered.

  He turned to flee—

  “Johnny… don’t leave!”

  The voice behind him was cracked, rough, and inhuman.

  “Johnny… without you, how do I live…”

  Evan’s blood ran cold.

  He sprinted, activating his artifact, the Silent Walker, to boost his speed.

  Branches scraped the ground behind him—Quentin was following.

  Evan dove into the nearest tunnel, one of the many left behind when the Rooted Spirit Tree retracted its roots.

  The ground shook violently. Something collapsed outside.

  Voices echoed faintly. He recognized them.

  Yeh Muni. Amida.

  The Saints had arrived.

  Evan crawled deeper into the tunnel.

  The four Saints had indeed descended into the root chamber. They had chased Silas Whitlock until he fled using a life?saving technique. With the Filthsoil elder gone, they focused on the Rooted Spirit Tree.

  They tore through the mountain, following the trunk downward—only to discover someone had beaten them to the prize.

  They landed in the spherical chamber and froze.

  A creature stood before them.

  Part human. Part plant. Part nightmare.

  Quentin Vilewind.

  Yeh Muni scanned the chamber and roared:

  “The tree marrow is gone! The extract has been taken!”

  Marcus Langford sniffed the air.

  “That monster did it. I recognize the stench.”

  Reginald Pierce’s expression darkened. He raised a hand and fired a beam of intertwined black and white light.

  The beam made no sound— but everything it touched disintegrated into dust.

  Quentin moved with unnatural speed, twisting aside.

  The beam shot past him— straight toward Evan.

  “Johnny!”

  Quentin lunged, throwing himself over Evan.

  The beam struck Quentin’s back.

  And the world exploded.