Chương 498: Chapter 489: The Chosen of Ferniel

It was getting dark—far from ideal for Rikarda's plants. Rikarda was the Chosen of Ferniel, the goddess of plants. At the moment, she sat atop a fifty-meter-tall flower, legs crossed, calmly reading a book on plant evolution while conversing with her patron. Due to merging with an extremely predatory plant—and as a side effect of her bloodline—she had been unable to participate in the treasure hunt. As a result, she was considered one of the weaker Chosen, currently at level 163. Still, levels weren't everything.

So far, Rikarda had used her time wisely—avoiding the war while strengthening her plants. They were far more than simple abilities, and losing even one would weaken her significantly. Destroying them wasn't easy either—their cores had to be eradicated completely. Her plants were effective in nearly every form of combat and even possessed resistance to fire. Of course, nothing was without limits. Raw strength could still overcome everything. But the surrounding incursions didn't stand a chance.

Only another Chosen could hope to defeat her. Another advantage of her class was that she gained experience whenever her plants killed a target. Instead of hunting herself, she simply sent them out. That freed her time for other pursuits—such as body tempering, or like now, gaining knowledge. If one of her plants required assistance, she could infuse it with power—or even project her consciousness into it. Direct control was rarely necessary. In Rikarda's opinion, this class was simply superior.

She could cultivate plants attuned to different elements, allowing her to counter almost any opponent. Whether fast, strong, or heavily armored—she had a plant for every situation. Her patron, an expert in flora, provided her with constant guidance. Now, with the portals open, her patron could even send rare saplings from integrated space. They would take time to mature into something capable of challenging a Chosen—but against humans, vampires, or orcs, they were already more than sufficient.

Their greatest advantage? They did not exist on this world. One of her most developed plants emitted constant soul damage in a wide area—an incredibly potent effect that made fighting her far more difficult. And that was while the plant was still only F-grade.

"You need not worry about missing out," her patron's voice echoed telepathically, laced with mild amusement.

"There will be many system trials. In fact, joining the war later can often be an advantage. Even we elven gods face similar struggles at the moment." Rikarda was about to respond when a loud voice interrupted her.

"Mistress! Mistress! A large group of slaves has escaped. They are holding elves hostage and demand an exchange for the human slaves. Most of our stronger fighters are currently out hunting and gaining levels…" The elf looked pale, clearly uncomfortable delivering the news. The smaller plants growing along the stem snapped at him with eager, toothy maws.

"Go. This will ease your mind. We will speak later," her patron said before severing the connection. Rikarda sighed. This was not how she had imagined her new life—especially after receiving a divine blessing. Back on her home planet, she had been nothing more than a simple girl helping her mother on the farm, singing to the plants. Now she stood at the apex of her race. She had even spoken with the elven king and queen—both Chosen themselves.

Since none of them had participated in the first system event, they had spent considerable time discussing their paths. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Just thinking about it made her heart beat faster. Most of her plants had already returned from their hunts. Her patron was right. A small distraction might be welcome.

"Do not worry. I will ensure that everyone returns alive and well," Rikarda said as she absorbed the surrounding plants back into her body, descending to the ground on a coiling vine.

"Of course, Mistress," the elf replied, bowing deeply while presenting a small map that marked the location of the four ships. They weren't far away. This would likely be a short diversion—but a pleasant one nonetheless. So far her plants never turned down a meal. The air vibrated as she launched herself forward, soaring over eighty meters into the air. She crossed her entire outpost in a single bound before landing lightly on the surface of the sea. The water was calm, barely disturbed by small waves.

A vine extended from beneath her feet, slithering forward at incredible speed while she balanced atop it. It hadn't always been easy—she had fallen more than once while learning—but now it felt natural. The wind rushed through her long hair as she sped toward the ships that had fallen to mutiny. She had other movement abilities—some not even related to plants—but this one was her favorite. Excitement began to build. A wide grin spread across her face as she unleashed her full aura.

Those humans would soon understand what a terrible mistake they had made. <-- Noticing the approaching aura, Thalion wasn't entirely sure if Pikar's plan would work. The plan itself was simple. They had overloaded the crystals in the bow of the ship—the same ones used to power the deck guns. Once a single crystal detonated, the rest would follow, resulting in a massive explosion strong enough to destroy the entire vessel. Pikar had explained that the Chosen fought using plants.

If she and Thalion clashed aboard this ship, detonating it at the right moment could wipe out most of her summoned forces—severely weakening her. The other humans were stationed on the remaining three ships, preparing the cannons. They would fire at opportune moments and trigger the explosion when the time came. To avoid getting blown apart himself, Thalion carried a token that would warn him a second before the detonation. So far, it sounded like a solid plan. Still, he wasn't quite sure what to think of Pikar.

The man had not only a unique personality but also a rather unusual class—Insectmaster. Similar to a Beastmaster, but specialized in insects. Unfortunately, all his creatures had been killed during his enslavement, which made him mostly useless in direct combat. Not that it mattered. This was Thalion's fight. Exactly how he wanted it. The aura drawing closer was monstrous—like a green sun rising on the horizon. Even the other ships began to pull away, setting sail to create distance.

Thalion rose from his seat and walked toward the bow, a faint smile forming on his lips. Slowly, he released the restraints on his passive skills. His eyes began to glow like burning embers. Saranya was already in his right hand, the blade trembling with anticipation.

"Hm. A plant mage, huh? It would be rather embarrassing if we lost. You are of divine rarity, after all," Thalion sent to the Primordial Bloodseed, keeping his aura contained while his bloodline flames stirred beneath the surface.

"She will die screaming while I grow through her body, devouring all her delicious plants," came the reply—cold, confident, and filled with sinister intent. Still, a question lingered in Thalion's mind.

"This might sound like I don't trust you—but aren't you specialized in consuming blood? As far as I know, plants don't really have any."

"So far, that has never been a problem. Blood resembles anything that carries life through the body," the Primordial Bloodseed answered. That was what Thalion liked about the Primordial Bloodseed. It never hesitated. Never doubted. Always certain. Yes… that was the spirit. Why would a mere Chosen stand in their way? Thalion's heart began to beat faster as his power steadily rose. As the Chosen drew closer, he could make out her form. She stood atop a vine gliding just beneath the surface of the water. The elf was…

surprisingly beautiful. Long hair, faint green markings across her otherwise flawless skin. Her aura was impressive—but her level was low for a Chosen. He didn't remember seeing her in the final stage of the system event. The elves had gathered there—someone missing would have been strange. Then again… a lot had happened. Maybe he was mistaken.

"Greetings. I will be the one you negotiate with," Thalion called out once she was within range, repeating Pikar's instructions. Pikar had insisted he avoid using his name. It might attract the attention of her patron—and no one knew how much a god could interfere. If the deity could observe everything, the trap would never work. Thalion noticed her eyes narrow as she adjusted her course, heading straight toward him. He stepped back toward the main mast, giving her space.

The next moment, she leapt from the water and landed just three meters away. The vine beneath her withdrew, slipping back into her body.

"You don't look like a slave," she said, studying him carefully.

"Even at your level. Who are you? And where are the elves? My plants sense only one nearby."

"Interesting," Thalion replied, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Our demand was simple—free all human slaves in exchange for the captured elves. Yet you didn't bring a single one. It seems we are much closer to fulfilling our side of the deal than you are." His calm demeanor clearly irritated her. A frown formed on her face.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" she asked, her voice sharpening.

"I am a Chosen—far more powerful than anyone here. Do you really think those cannons could even touch me? Even my smallest plant could snuff out your life." As she spoke, a plant emerged from her open palm and dropped onto the deck. It moved on root-like limbs—resembling a grotesque, oversized Venus flytrap with rows of backward-curving teeth. Thick, sticky saliva dripped from its maw as it slowly crept toward Thalion.

"Last chance, human. Tell me where the elves are—or I will feed you to my plants." Her aura shifted, heavy with killing intent. A normal warrior would have already faltered.