Chapter 12: When the Roots Rise
The first thing Billy heard was sirens.
Not the soft hum of machines or the pulse of the Green — just chaos.
He opened his eyes to see a ceiling above him, cracked and flickering with red light. The air reeked of smoke and metal.
He wasn't underground anymore.
He was lying on a hospital bed, wrapped in torn vines that seemed to be growing out of the floor.
Then he heard it — people screaming outside.
He pushed himself up, wincing as pain shot through his body. His veins still glowed faintly green, pulsing to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
The door burst open.
Helena stood there, her armor burned, her face streaked with ash. Relief flickered across her eyes when she saw him awake.
"Billy... thank God."
He stared at her. "What happened?"
She hesitated. "You don't remember?"
He shook his head slowly.
She exhaled. "When you disappeared into the Hollow Garden, the world changed. It's been three days. The city—" She looked out the window, her voice breaking. "The city isn't the same anymore."
Billy swung his legs off the bed and limped to the shattered window.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
New York was… alive.
Massive roots tore through skyscrapers. Vines the size of buses coiled around bridges and highways. Streets glowed faintly green at night, pulsing like veins under skin.
And amid it all, patches of black corruption spread like rot — places where the earth twisted into jagged, metallic thorns.
The world had split in two — half living, half dying.
Billy's chest tightened. "I did this... didn't I?"
Helena's silence was answer enough.
He clenched his fists. "Where's Maskborn?"
Helena's eyes darkened. "Gone. But not dead. We've picked up signals — dark energy readings — all across the city. Whatever you two unleashed in there, it's spreading. He's merged with the corruption."
Billy felt something stir inside him — a faint vibration in his bones. The Green was still speaking to him, but now its voice was fractured.
"He grows where you cannot… the Black Root feeds…"
He gritted his teeth. "He's feeding off my world."
Helena nodded grimly. "And he's not alone."
Billy looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"
She turned to a holographic display flickering on the ruined table nearby.
Static cleared to reveal a monstrous shape — a humanoid figure formed entirely from vines and metal, towering over a crumbling building.
Billy's stomach dropped. "What is that?"
Helena swallowed. "Draven's virus. It's replicating his consciousness in the Garden's network. Every infected vine becomes part of him."
He stared at the image — the creature's eyes glowed red like coals. "He's becoming the Garden."
"Worse," Helena said. "He's rewriting it."
Outside, thunder rumbled — though the sky was clear.
The roots below the hospital shifted, growing faster, tearing through concrete like paper.
Billy turned back to Helena. "I have to stop him."
"You can barely stand," she said sharply. "You need time to stabilize. Rowan's still trying to find a way to separate the Green from your bloodstream."
Billy's voice was low. "If I wait, there won't be a world left to save."
Helena hesitated, then handed him a small device — an earpiece and a thin, glowing shard of crystal.
"Rowan built this. It's attuned to your energy. If the Green starts consuming you again, this will suppress it temporarily."
He nodded, sliding the earpiece in place. "Thanks."
"Billy…" she said, voice softening. "You might have changed the world, but it's not lost. You still have a choice in what comes next."
He looked at her — and for the first time, she saw not a boy, but something ancient behind his eyes.
"I don't think I ever had a choice," he said quietly. "But maybe I can still make one."
Downtown Manhattan – One Hour Later
The streets were chaos. Cars lay overturned, wrapped in vines that glowed faintly. Some buildings had begun to sprout branches through their walls. Others melted into black steel and glass like tumors.
People ran, screamed, fought — some with weapons, some with hands glowing faintly green or black. The infection wasn't just spreading through nature. It was infecting humans.
Billy moved carefully through the chaos, his hoodie torn and hood up, trying to stay unnoticed. But every step he took made the ground hum softly, flowers blooming in his wake.
He couldn't hide what he was anymore.
He turned a corner — and stopped.
A man was pinned to a wall by thick, black vines, his face twisted in terror. The vines pulsed, sinking deeper into his skin, feeding. Billy reached out instinctively.
The Green inside him surged.
With one motion, he touched the vines — and they disintegrated into dust.
The man collapsed, gasping. Billy caught him before he hit the ground.
"Y-you're one of them…" the man whispered, eyes wide with fear.
Billy didn't answer. He just set him down gently and walked on.
Then the air shifted.
He felt it — a tremor in the pulse of the city.
A voice, distorted and hollow, echoed through the streets.
"Ironroot…"
Billy froze. The ground beneath his feet rippled. Cracks opened, and dark liquid poured through — not water, but oil thick as blood.
He turned slowly. From the center of the street, the asphalt split open, and a massive form rose out of it — metal fused with roots, pulsing red veins running through its limbs.
Maskborn.
Only now, he was more machine than man. His armor had grown into his flesh, his eyes pure crimson light. Every step he took warped the world around him.
"You see it now, don't you?" Maskborn's voice boomed. "Nature and technology united. The next evolution."
Billy's energy flared. "You call this evolution? You're killing the planet!"
Maskborn extended his hand — and the buildings around them moved.
Steel bent, vines twisted, glass morphed into living crystal.
"I'm saving it. Rewriting its rules. No more decay. No more weakness."
Billy's voice rose like thunder. "You're not saving it — you're enslaving it!"
The street exploded into chaos as their powers collided once again.
Vines burst through the ground, wrapping around Maskborn's arms. He countered with spears of metal that shot from his armor, slicing through the air. Sparks and sap sprayed like fire and rain.
Billy leaped, landing on a collapsing car, and hurled a wave of green energy that shattered the pavement. Maskborn staggered, then roared — his voice shaking glass for blocks.
They fought through the ruins, light and darkness flashing through the night sky like gods at war. Every strike sent shockwaves through the streets. Trees grew and died within seconds. Buildings cracked, rebuilt, and shattered again.
At one point, Maskborn caught Billy by the throat and lifted him off the ground.
"You think you're chosen?" he hissed. "You're just the seed's final scream."
Billy's eyes burned green fire. "Then I'll make it loud."
He unleashed a pulse of raw energy that blasted them both apart.
They crashed into opposite sides of the street — Billy into a wall of ivy, Maskborn into a half-collapsed tower.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then, from the shadows above, something huge moved.
Helena's voice came through the earpiece. "Billy, get out of there—NOW!"
He looked up — and saw it.
The tower was moving.
Its steel beams twisted into tendrils. Its walls bent inward, forming a shape like a head. The entire building came alive.
Maskborn's laughter echoed as the skyscraper transformed into a towering creature — part machine, part nature — the Garden Titan.
"You brought this world to life, Ironroot," Maskborn said, his voice deep and resonant. "Now watch it devour you."
Billy stood, his face hardening.
"Then let's see who the Garden listens to."
He slammed his palms into the ground.
The city erupted.
Roots tore upward, shattering streets, wrapping around the Titan's legs. The sky turned green, lightning flashing through clouds of spores. For the first time, the world itself seemed uncertain whom to obey.
Maskborn raised both arms, merging with the Titan completely. His voice thundered:
"This world belongs to the Root!"
Billy shouted back:
"No — it belongs to everyone!"
They clashed again, the impact visible from miles away — a storm of light and darkness swallowing New York.
And somewhere far beneath the chaos, in the forgotten ruins of the Sanctum, the old tree stirred once more.
Its voice was faint but clear.
"Two seeds cannot grow in the same soil."