《Hubris is a virtue》 Chapter 1: Gilded cage Roxom had been slumbering for a great long. He had gone to sleep several centuries before, surrounded by his forest kin, the single successfully purple glory tree in his territory, having overtaken his neighboring siblings to reach the patch of sunlight let in from the canopy above. It was a struggle to the death, and he was the sole victor. Every tree in the forest has the potential to become a god, constantly fighting with its siblings and relatives for space, for nourishment, throttling them if need be and growing out of their decaying corpses. But he was the only one to achieve godhood by securing the godseed, the meteor fragment that had been buried in the soil, the fossilized mineral remains of some long dead space god fallen from the heavens. The first thing Roxom noticed upon his groggy awakening was the lack of connection in his roots. The nutrient poor soil forced the forest vegetation to form shallow root systems, interwoven and competing for nutrients. It was a cut throat environment, and those that didn¡¯t secure the necessary nutrition paid the price with their lives. Despite the struggle going on beneath the soil, and the competition for the meager sunlight that percolated down from the canopy so high above, they were a communicative group, constantly sending forest gossip via chemical signals through the rhizosphere and the mycelium symbiotes connecting in their roots together. The silence was deafening. His closest neighbor, a magnificent cecropia tree with its thriving ant colony was missing. Roxom couldn¡¯t feel their roots interwoven, only the decayed tips left behind from the extraction. The soil was filled with the final screams of the dead as they were cut down. It wasn¡¯t unusual that a tree would die, or even several if a natural disaster struck, but the sheer echoing silence that surrounded him was enough to leave him shaken to his roots. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. He was used to animal life, the forest had been full of it. Wild pigs rooting around his trunk, rodents skittering about in his undergrowth, various bats and birds resting in his foliage. But the volume of human life surrounding him was beyond anything he had experienced before. Humans milled about around him, talking, laughing, as if this wasn¡¯t a graveyard of everyone he had ever known. At first Roxom was bewildered, too shocked to have any other reaction. The world had moved on while he slept, the nearby village exploding into a metropolis the likes of which he couldn¡¯t have imagined. And he was the only one left behind. Why me? He wondered. What had possessed the humans to rip apart his world but leave him behind in the wreckage. It seemed cruel, like he had been intentionally left to appreciate the ruin they had wrought. And why him rather than any other, was he somehow more deserving than the others? Perhaps his claim to godhood had somehow protected him, perhaps in some sort of insidious way it had influenced the humans against hacking him down like the others? If he had woken sooner could he have stopped the destruction? Was there even anything he might have been able to do to protect against the carnage? After the shock had passed he began to see the benefits. Roxom was a pragmatist, after all. He was unimpeded in his access to sunlight now, the sky was the limit for his branches to grow. The rules of the forest stated that one must take as much as was given, and more, if the opportunity arose. And the humans so generously delivered nutrition to him, piling it on his roots like tribute. It was gratifying, to be worshiped. The humans would come, admire his foliage, the flowering crown that he prized so much. Roxom preened, drawing out their appreciation, reveled in praise of his velvet soft blossoms in deep roses and violets. But the isolation got to him, sometimes. The aching hollow feeling of loneliness. So many trees, gone. No longer would he listen to the cecropia complain about the sloth that had made its home among her branches, no longer would he compete with the tabebuia tree for who had the most blooms, the jequitibas would no longer obscure his light with fiendish glee. It wasn¡¯t until they brought shears, clipping his branches, pruning him, in order to draw out new blooms that he realized it wasn¡¯t worship they were offering, but that in their eyes he was an ornament, something to admire briefly but be forgotten. Inconsequential to their short insignificant lives, he thought with bitterness. The indignation, the impotent rage festered inside him like rot. Eventually they brought cuttings in, abominations that had been taken from this body, grown up into trees of their own to be planted near him. Roxom could sense them, somewhat, faded wraiths of consciousness, confused by their disconnection from him. Like echos. Pale imitations to his might. After that he couldn¡¯t bring himself to enjoy the attention, every comment on his beauty only emphasized his confinement as a prized accessory in their gardens. It sickened him. Chapter 2: While they were sleeping ¡®Do you enjoy being treated like a coddled pet, great one?¡¯ It took a while for him to realize that the being was talking to him directly. It looked like a human, but he could see there was something very off, very inhuman about it. It had an aura of deep space, a solemness, a sense of weight that no human could hope to replicate. When he tasted the air, it had the flavor of something ancient, older than even him. His leaves rustled like a shiver down the spine, disconcerted. The being was taunting him, Roxom realized, a moment after. Outrage filled him, blinding rage but with no means of release, it unwillingly drained away, impotent. ¡®No,¡¯ he said, his voice the wind whispering through his leaves, ¡®it is a grave insult.¡¯ The being chuckled, its long starry hair fanning in the breeze. ¡®Then why don¡¯t you do something about it.¡¯ With that, the being strolled away, human-like hands in human-like pockets. He had never met another ancient before, he was the only god-being he knew, though through his forest network he had heard of other great ones. Beings with arcane powers greater than their forms would suggest, beings that were not to be crossed or else dire consequences would ensue. He meditated long on what the being ment. What could he do, against his enemy¡¯s clear domination. His entire people, no matter his feelings about them, had been eradicated, obliterated from the face of the earth. His body had been defiled, his limbs severed and implanted elsewhere like trophies to his subjugation, separated and calling for him like lost children. What could he do against such clear, overwhelming superiority? He was ashamed that his first interaction with another great one was when he was in such an embarrassed state. It was shameful that the star-beast had seen him and found him so wanting. He wanted to prove to the beast that this was just a momentary disadvantage, that he would triumph over this insult, come out victorious, as he had in the past in his competitions with the other forest inhabitants. He was jealous of the star-beast he discovered, after further introspection, of its ability to walk undetected, unmolested amongst the humans. Its mobility, its self-assurance. If he could walk like them, he would no longer be vulnerable to the human¡¯s every whim. He tried moving his roots, to simulate walking as they did, at night when no human was around to witness him. But the experiment was only moderately successful. It was slow going, and he left a massive trail behind him, disturbed soil and grasses. He settled his roots back into his hole, resolved to wait until a more developed plan occurred to him. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. What were his own powers, he wondered. He had never the need to test his own power, always content to live as a tree should. But clearly, he was more than just a tree. He was a great one, as the star-beast said. Mighty. If only¡­if only there was someway for him to fight back. He did fight other beasts, he realized, after some self-examination. He synthesized chemicals to deter unwanted pests that ate at his leaves. He had developed the ability during his saplinghood, it had given him a competitive advantage over his siblings, contributing to his triumph over them. And why would he limit himself to insects, when another, even more irritating pest presented itself. But what could he make that would be the most effective weapon against the humans? He wanted them to suffer, he realized, to feel the pain that they had caused to him and his kind. To drive them insane with the pain and finally perish. To decay and become fodder for his children. This was his pledge, that they would have his name on their lips when they died. He breathed deeply, exhaling through his every stroma, leaves ruffling without a breeze. A human looked at him askance, unnerved. This would be the beginning, Roxom vowed. It took him a while to perfect his chemical weapon. He would subtly release some of his experiments in the vicinity, carefully not to do so much as to draw attention to himself, unwilling to be destroyed prematurely and lose his chance for revenge. He tried many different approaches, blistering agents that caused boils to erupt on the human¡¯s skin, lung toxicants damaging their internal organs, causing them to cough harshly, but ultimately settled on nerve agents. He would have to dose it carefully, though. Too much and the feeble humans would die quickly, unable to fully appreciate his domination. He was unwilling to release them to death immediately. Luckily the agents stimulated then paralyzed the human¡¯s nervous system, setting him up nicely for the second part of his plan. Taking a human skin. After seeing the star-beast in one, he wanted it for himself. He implemented his plan early in the morning, slowly releasing the chemical into the slightly chilled air. He would slowly release more and more as the day continued, with the intention that those early visitors to the gardens would not notice that something was amiss, contaminating the whole city. He instructed his children to do the same, passing on the compound construction through their lingering shared consciousness. His children had been spread widely in the city, various humans claiming pieces of him for themselves, enchanted with the vibrancy of his brilliant plum-colored flowers. Now that indignity would be to his advantage. A human passing by gasped for breath. It had begun. Chapter 3: A miracle The city had gone into a state of emergency. He observed that through his child outside the hospital, they had set up a decontamination unit outside of the emergency department in order to mitigate the number of contaminated people spreading the nerve agent inside and limit cross-contamination, though they hadn¡¯t been able to locate a hot zone, Roxom thought smugly. It was past noon now, and the number of cases had swelled greatly as he and his progeny upped the dosage. Deaths had become more frequent. Nearby him one such human gasped for breath, a high pitched, distressed sound, a hand on his trunk as it vomited onto his roots. Disgusting creatures, he thought, offended at yet another indignity. But this suited him quite well. He increased the nerve gas significantly, pumping it out until the human collapsed on the ground, seizuring. At last it drew its final breath, a shuddering gasping thing, fluids leaking from its face. Roxom carefully lifted the body in his roots, dragging it closer and positioning it, long dark hair trailing behind in the dirt. It was a little small, he thought ruefully, but he would make due. He shoved his roots down its throat, searching for compatibility in their very different forms. Ah. Yes, a nervous system, electrical impulses flowing through them much like his own roots. He followed them all the way up to a large fleshy organ in its head. Yes, this would do perfectly. It was a bit regrettable he would be leaving so much of his plant body behind, but it was necessary in order to take on a human form. He poured his root system into the body, replacing its nerve network, the body bulging strangely under his ministrations. Finally, he was in, stuffing the body like a doll. Branches broke through its facial orifices, flowers emerging from its eyes, ears, and mouth. Much more beautiful, Roxom thought vainly. He couldn¡¯t bear to wear a skin without his splendid crown of flowers. Butterflies fluttered and bees buzzed lazily around his head, continuing their pollination, unbothered by the disruption to his shape. It took him a while to fully grasp the logistics of his new body, his initial attempts at a two legged walk were an embarrassment, and he was glad the star-beast wasn¡¯t around to witness it. On the fourth try he got it, managing not to fall, unsteadily tottering around the near empty park. Humans had been advised to stay indoors, as if that could protect them from the repercussions of their folly. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. He walked and walked, gaining more stability as he went and spreading the gas throughout the city, checking in on his obedient children. They had the culling well in hand. He circled the city, watching with a perverse satisfaction as his work brought the humans down. Around him humans too incapacitated to react to his newly wrought body writhed, dripping human fluids. Their kin tried desperately to care for them, despite experiencing the effects as well. Their struggle for survival, was it really so different from his own? Would he have cared for his forest companions with such attention, if he had been awake when they had taken down his home? The humans weren¡¯t without some virtue, he thought reluctantly. Suddenly it all felt very hollow. He had his revenge, he had his new body. What would he have after the genocide was complete? He would have nothing. No old forest friends, no humans traipsing around, admiring him, and his children were self-sufficient. He was unneeded, unappreciated. He had wanted them to pay, yes, but more than that he wanted their worship, he realized. He was their god, and they should honor him with tribute and adoration. He adjusted course. It was time for a miracle. He arrived at the decontamination tent, a wreath of horrified humans trailing after him from a safe distance, bewitched by the macabre sight of a walking dead. He entered the tent, hospital personnel in thick protective gear freezing in fright at the sight of him, a strange walking corpse, head a garland of flowers with bees and butterflies aflurry around it. He continued inwards, ignoring the humans¡¯ panic, entering the area where most of the patients lay comatose, tended to by the staff. He opened his hands, his arms stretched wide, releasing the antidote as a visible vapor through his human pores, so similar to his stroma. The cloud of gas dispersed to screams of terror, those still mobile scrambling away. But that was fine, it wasn¡¯t those that he was aiming for. Slowly, as the gas dissipated, those incapacitated and on the edge of death stood up, miraculously healed. They knelt at Roxom¡¯s feat, praising him. This. This is what he had wanted, what he deserved. He reveled in their worship. Chapter 4: Meet the family It had been several weeks since Roxom¡¯s miracle. The humans had worked quickly building him his requisite temple, the temple of the priestess of flowers, as they were calling him. Presumably his host human had been female. Roxom was indifferent to all matters of the flesh and took no offense. Their worship was unrestrained, the healed came bearing many gifts, and their families came to worship at his church. A massive cathedral that had been constructed for an absent snail god had been repurposed and the stained glass depictions of her had been knocked out of the windows and filled with his blossoms. It was everything he had wanted but not realized. The humans were excellent devotees, and he took care to remind them of their need for him by regularly dosing them with his nerve agent through his children so that they would never forget his might and continue to seek his blessing. ¡®Ah, I see you took my advice.¡¯ The star-beast had returned. He turned from the wooden swing he had taken to sitting on, hanging from the branches of his old body, which he had instructed the humans to transplant to the temple, growing in a place of honor, his altar nestled in its roots. He begrudgingly responded ¡®Your advice was fruitful.¡¯ He was loath to attribute his success to another, yet he had to admit wouldn¡¯t have taken such measures without prompting. The star-beast looked at him, a slight smirk on its lips. ¡®Come,¡¯ it finally said, making a beckoning motion, ¡®Let¡¯s go meet the family.¡¯ The beast led him to the ocean, walking straight into the waves. Roxom lingered on the shore, uncertain about the effect of the salt on his blooms. ¡®What are you waiting for, you¡¯re a god, aren''t you? Act like it.¡¯ The beast said harshly, its eyes challenging. Roxom took a deep breath, drawing on his power, more comfortable with it than he had been before. He gathered it around himself like a cocoon, enveloping himself in a barrier of hardened gasses, impenetrable, and stepped into the waters to follow the beast. The star-beast had sunk to the bottom, walking on the sand. Seeing Roxom, it turned, walking into a thick current to be whisked away. Roxom followed. They arrived at an island, a barren volcanic rock, not fit for living things, with black sand that turned red with each step on its surface. Beings of some sort had begun to gather. A tall pale human passed them each a glass of some sort of liquid upon their arrival, greeting the star-beast with deference. A bonfire of black fire suddenly flared as it was struck by lightning out of nowhere, a starry golden calf stepping out from the flames with grace. A flower bloomed from the ashes, bell shaped and lovely, before the petals peeled back to reveal another humanesque figure, though with skin as silken as the petal¡¯s had been and vines for hair, dragging behind it, filled with more of the same bell like flowers. Datura, Roxom thought, looking at the familiar trumpet-like shape of the flower. A howl ripped through the air, drawn out and eerie. The sound took form, a blue wolf with six legs and four eyes materializing. A toad emerged from the ocean, brightly colored gems emerging from the warts on its back, eyes a wide and unblinking orange. ¡®How delightful, another new face!¡¯ The star-beast exclaimed, approaching the golden calf god that had emerged from the black fire. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Roxom had been playing a card game he didn¡¯t quite understand with the Datura god and a being that introduced itself as Luz, a sunbeam made flesh, almost too bright to look at, starlight peeking out between the cracks in its skin. ¡®So you¡¯ve taken devotees?¡¯ Datura was asking Roxom, carefully examining her cards, before selecting one to play. ¡®I couldn¡¯t stand the annoying things, always asking for things they are unworthy to receive. Though,¡¯ she paused here, a malicious glint in her petal colored irises, ¡®I did technically grant their requests for heavenly wisdom, just a little dose of my flesh and they were delirious until they perspired.¡¯ Luz laughed, the crackling sound of fire snapping. Roxom frowned. All the power available to them, and all they seemed to enjoy was playing cards together and gossiping. They were just as short sighted and self-absorbed as the humans. Pretentious, odious bunch of beings. If he had the same power available to him¡­He looked at the star-beast. It was whispering with the tall pale being that had greeted them with the wine. He excused himself, making his way over to it. ¡®If this is my family I am sorely disappointed.¡¯ He interrupted, ignoring the other being. The star-beast paused, eyebrow raised, dismissing the other being. ¡®Oh? And how does the family disappoint?¡¯ The star-beast asked, eyes sharp but voice amused. Roxom paused, displeased at being taken so casually. He expected a stronger reaction. ¡®They have no drive, no interest in anything beyond their immediate gratification. Frivolous, all of them,¡¯ he pronounced. The star-beast tilted its head. ¡®We are the endless. We have all the time in the world, what is there besides our gratification?¡¯ Chapter 5: The price of folly Roxom returned to his city embittered, disillusioned with his godly brethren. If they would not take initiative to use their power for the betterment of the world, for the betterment of their kind, he would govern them as he did the mortals, with firm guidance, the likes of which the star-beast couldn¡¯t provide. He walked his city streets, enjoying the adoration of his devotees, their bows as he walked past, making his way to his church. At the entrance he turned around, back to the doors, facing his followers. ¡®Who among you is the most devoted to me,¡¯ he asked the assembled, ¡®who will be my chosen.¡¯ Such good children should get rewards, he thought with fondness as he brought the chosen to his tree propagates, allowing his progeny to crawl inside the devotee¡¯s bodies. Some of the humans screamed, writhing as their lives were snuffed out, and some stood staunch in their dedication. They died just the same. With each newly birthed corpse Roxom breathed deeply from his stolen lungs, disseminating vaporized godseed to bequeath demi-godhood to each of his descendants. Soon he would be many, able to take on an army¡¯s worth of gods and spread his will. Soon he would have a force mighty enough to take on the star-beast. His godseed was being stretched, further than it should be, he could feel it. But he couldn¡¯t stop just yet, many more of his children had yet to be mobilized, he could feel their excitement through his shared consciousness at his vision being achieved. A taut weakened feeling twisted in his gut the further he disseminated his godseed among his offspring, twanging painfully with each addition. He pushed through, determined to fulfill his objective, his ambition driving him past the point of failure. He felt something snap, the sharp painful recoil knocking the breath from him, leaving him gasping, so much like he had done to the humans with his neurotoxin. He heard a shockwave boom as if from a great distance. He had overstretched, he thought ruefully, his last thought before his vision faded and darkness claimed him. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. He woke in the midst of chaos. The heat from the explosion lingered, bodies burning around him, the meaty smell of burnt flesh filling the air. Humans raced around him, blood dripping from their eyes, their ears, their screams adding to the cacophony of destruction. He could see the ashy outlines where those standing too close to him had been vaporized, nothing left behind but a shadowy outline on a wall. Building collapsed around him, a massive crater of broken street below him, pulverized by the weight of the blast, succumbing to the pressure the recoiled godseed had released. A firestorm raged above, the superheated sky the red of blood and fire. A whirl of wind and fire rushed over him, forcing him to draw on his power to protect himself from its scorching blaze. He had made a grave mistake. He reached out for his children mentally, seeking them out desperately, hoping that the destruction had not affected them. Silence was all that met him, none of the whisper thin echos he had come to regard with fondness. Just emptiness. His breath stuttered. He staggered to the last location he had heard one of his children, dreading what he might find but determined to know. A mangled form met him, the body covered in flash burns, the beautiful flowers completely evaporated, leaving only twisted burned branches behind, emerging from the human¡¯s face like a final wail of the dying. Roxom collapsed to his knees, his petals fluttering from his branches like tears, tumbling down to land on the corpse of his child. The wind swept through his balding branches, a howl of mourning. Devastation, that¡¯s what he had wrought. He released his godly power, accepting the radiative flames, letting them devour him. He welcomed the eversleep, willing it to cleanse him of his hubris. He would live in infamy after all, he thought, a manic laugh ripping out of his stolen mouth as he burned. The star-beast watched from above and laughed. Resources Resources Chemical weapons https://www.emedicinehealth.com/chemical_warfare/article_em.htm Datura https://sunrisehouse.com/herbal-drugs/datura/ Explosion https://www.icanw.org/catastrophic_harm_immediate_effects https://thereader.mitpress.mit.edu/devastating-effects-of-nuclear-weapons-war/ Fruit trees https://extension.usu.edu/yardandgarden/research/managing-vegetation-around-fruit-trees The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Parks https://theculturetrip.com/south-america/brazil/articles/the-most-beautiful-parks-in-rio-de-janeiro/ Plant signaling https://kids.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/frym.2022.658692 https://entomology.umd.edu/news/using-chemical-signals-from-plants-to-protect-crops-from-insect-pests https://www.scripps.edu/news-and-events/press-room/2019/20191016-shenvi-ginkgo.html Purple glory tree https://www.emeraldgoddessgardens.com/shop/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=701 Survivor¡¯s guilt https://centerstone.org/our-resources/health-wellness/understanding-survivors-guilt/ Tropical Rainforests https://www.treehugger.com/types-of-forests-definitions-examples-5180645 https://caminhoslanguages.com/blog/rios-nature/ https://www.arborday.org/programs/rainforest/animals-and-plants-of-the-rain-forest.cfm