Chapter 68: The Aggregate

The terrifying screams that assaulted everyone's ears came precisely from these bizarre creatures that resembled white radishes.

At first glance, these beings were no larger than a white radish, yet there was nothing remotely endearing about them. On the contrary, they were deeply unsettling.

Their mouths were lined with jagged teeth, their tiny, bead-like eyes glinted with a sinister black light, and the way they opened their jaws to howl incessantly was enough to make anyone understand the very essence of madness.

There were far, far too many of these radish-like abominations.

Every two or three blades of tall, flat grass—each as high as a person—concealed one of these creatures. When the tree roots pulled them from the earth, the lower halves of their bodies were revealed: densely tangled, worm-like roots reminiscent of iron wires, twitching and writhing, sending chills down the spine.

Even when Ji Yu yanked them from the soil, these little monstrosities continued to display their manic nature. Entwined by their own roots, they began shrieking and gnawing frantically at the mass where their roots—intertwined with those of the great oak—connected both to themselves and to the tree.

But despite their desperate chewing, they could only sever their own roots, utterly powerless against the thick, earthy-brown oak roots. No matter how they bit and tore, the oak’s roots clung to them like steel cables, unyielding and indomitable.

Then, it was Ji Yu’s turn to act.

As the oak’s slender tendrils wound along the radish-creatures’ roots and up their bodies, Ji Yu exerted a subtle force. Instantly, the sky began to rain down slivers of radish.

Of course, these radish slices were not edible.

And despite their appearance, these radish lifeforms possessed the anatomy of animals rather than plants. Countless drops of purple blood rained down with the radish fragments, turning the whole area into a scene of bloody downpour.

And it was not yet over.

For just as the first oak root tore up a wide swathe of turf, roots burst forth in succession from other directions.

One.

Two.

Three.

…

In the end, when all five of the oak’s exceptionally thick roots erupted from the earth, every inch of grass within a kilometer radius was uprooted, leaving a barren, desolate expanse.

At the same time, eerie purple rain and radish fragments fell from the sky, casting the entire region into a hellish tableau.

The screams persisted—the sound of the oak roots mercilessly strangling the radish-creatures.

Heavy thuds followed—the bodies of the radish-beings, shredded into pieces, crashed to the ground.

Before this sea of blood, everyone fell silent.

But it was not out of fear. It was exhilaration, fervor.

Witnessing the oak so effortlessly slaughter monsters that firearms had struggled to eliminate, a natural awe for overwhelming power ignited a surge of excitement among the people.

At that moment, watching the screeching “radishes” being slaughtered in the sky, a Western Alliance officer, his hands trembling, lit a cigarette.

He inhaled deeply, exhaling a curl of smoke, and stared at the scene before him, his mind turning to a new line of thought—how would humanity cope if faced with these creatures?

“These subterranean beings, so far beyond our understanding—if we hadn’t been warned in advance, even the finest soldiers would have been powerless.”

“Maybe after this, I should recommend to the military that if we ever set foot in this world, we must adopt a scorched-earth policy.”

“But before that, we should stockpile a great many white phosphorus bombs.”

So mused the young officer—for the first time ever, a fierce fighting spirit flared within him.

Isn’t the dream of every soldier to achieve glory and distinction?

Though they have the duty to protect their country and people, more often than not, young soldiers yearn to march onto a battlefield that belongs to them alone.

Not a war of humans against humans, but of humanity against other species.

The Purple Moon invaded humanity—why should humanity not invade it in return?

The existence of the mysterious tree must surely be a sign from the gods.

We should not cower in defense; under divine guidance, we should rise to embrace even greater challenges.

This was, after all, a vaster and more unknown world.

As long as we dare to dream and act, perhaps one day, this place, too, could become humanity’s second cradle.

Once ambition takes root, it spreads inexorably.

The officer gave no thought to how helpless humanity currently was in the face of Purple Moon contamination.

His desire and ambition sprang solely from his current knowledge and the marvels before his eyes.

And at the root of all these ambitions was the formidable power of the oak, the utter helplessness of these strange creatures before it.

“If the oak truly is a sign sent by the gods, then I will devote my life to fulfilling this wish!”

The young officer’s gaze burned bright, and only when the cigarette butt scorched his fingers did he return to himself.

His sudden arrogance stemmed simply from his lack of experience—he had yet to witness the mightier entities spawned by the Purple Moon.

Soon enough, reality would deliver a harsh blow.

For while Ji Yu was slaughtering thousands upon thousands of radish-creatures, beyond the wilderness, in regions the oak could not reach, countless patches of grass began to stir.

Yet these swathes of grass were not advancing toward the oak.

Instead, they surged toward a spot about five kilometers away, gathering en masse.

The Purple Moon shone with blinding brilliance, and everyone could see clearly—Ji Yu among them.

Those tufts of grass, ripped from the earth, fled with astonishing speed, all converging at the spot five kilometers away.

No—“converging” was not quite right. They were stacking, piling atop one another.

The grass ran, shrieked, and flung themselves into the heap, merging and accumulating at that distant point.

With every blade that joined, the mound writhed and swelled, until a monstrous amalgamation began to take shape at a terrifying pace.

Ten meters.

Fifty meters.

A hundred meters.

Three hundred meters.

…

By the time it reached five hundred meters in height, a towering horror had been born in a mere three minutes.

Ji Yu dearly wished to interrupt the fusion of these uncanny beings, but he was helpless—the distance was too great. All he could do was watch as the monstrous entity came together.

The thing ultimately took the shape of a sphere.

A colossal ball of grass, more than five hundred meters in diameter.

Countless grass blades jutted from its surface like knives, and beneath their razor-sharp points writhed a tangled mass of dense, twitching roots.

The sight was almost comical, yet in Ji Yu’s perception, this conglomerate—formed of millions, perhaps tens of millions, of “radish grass” beings—was not a simple sum of its parts. It was more like one plus one equaling three, or even four.

He could sense it: the Purple Moon’s energy was swirling ever more violently around the grass sphere, reaching terrifying levels.

Thick black smoke began to coil around the orb, shrouding it in an ominous, hazy gloom that made its vast bulk even more terrifying.

Then, at the front of the grass ball, a gaping, abyssal maw slowly split open.

A deafening roar erupted, so loud it seemed to crack the very air, sending a powerful shockwave rippling outward.

The oak’s vast leaves shuddered, and those beneath its branches were nearly blown off their feet.

Some even felt their eardrums burst, blood trickling from their ears under the thunderous assault.

Ji Yu regarded it all coolly, weighing and comparing in silence.

“It certainly looks formidable. No wonder the game’s tutorial mission was simply to survive. Still, I doubt this grass ball is quite up to the mark yet.”