The Art of Cosmic Weeding
Losing the first round had a palpable effect on the Spore-Shepherd. The subtle, psychic pressure it had been exuding across the Proving Grounds intensified, becoming a constant, menacing hum of rage and hunger. It immediately set to work on its island, its movements now fast and jerky. The sickly violet light from its spore pods grew brighter, and the shadowy mycelium network began to spread, not just across its own island, but sending out questing, ethereal tendrils across the void.
The other contestants gave the Spore-Shepherd a wide berth. The starlight woman surrounded her island with a shimmering shield of hard light. The rock golem simply pulled its limbs in, becoming an inert, impenetrable boulder. The competition's friendly atmosphere had evaporated.
Ren, however, was unfazed. He sat at the table he had grown, sipping spectral water and watching his opponent's tantrum with a calm, analytical eye.
[Round Two: The Challenge of Purity!] the Primordial Entity's voice boomed, interrupting the tension. [It's one thing to grow a garden, but can you protect it? In this round, a 'Weed of Woe' will be introduced to each contestant's plot. The first cultivator to completely and utterly eradicate their weed, without damaging their primary creation, will be the winner!]
As the Entity spoke, a single, malignant-looking seed materialized on each island. It was jagged and black, and seemed to suck the light out of the air around it.
[This is a 'Seed of Null-Ivy,'] the Entity explained. [It is a parasitic, conceptual weed that doesn't just choke out life, it erases it from existence on a fundamental level. Handle with care! Begin!]
The moment the challenge started, the seed on the Spore-Shepherd's island didn't even sprout. The creature simply absorbed the seed into its own being, its violet aura flaring as it integrated the null-energy. To a creature of the Blight, a reality-erasing weed wasn't a problem; it was a new ingredient. It then turned its full attention back to its own cultivation, its work accelerating. It had bypassed the challenge by becoming one with the problem.
On the starlight woman's island, the Null-Ivy sprouted into a vine of pure, shimmering blackness. It began to crawl towards her galaxy-tree, the very space it touched fizzling out of existence. She responded by weaving a cage of condensed starlight around it, attempting to contain and starve it of reality to feed on. It was a slow, delicate process.
The rock golem's weed sprouted, and the golem responded by causing the earth around it to petrify into a solid diamond tomb, locking the weed away. It was effective, but crude.
On Ren's island, the Null-Ivy erupted from the ground with vicious speed. It was a thorny, creeping vine made of solidified anti-space, and it immediately began crawling towards his little shack, the mossy doormat withering as it approached. The very concept of "welcome" was being erased by its presence.
Lyra and Kaelen's plant-constructs, animated by Ren's will, moved to intercept it. But their attacks, made of life energy, simply dissipated as they struck the null-vine. It was like trying to punch a hole.
"This is a tricky one," Ren mused. He couldn't use his life energy, as the weed would just erase it. He couldn't use his sickle, because a conceptual harvest wouldn't work on something that was defined by its lack of concept. He couldn't reset it with a 'Seed of Equilibrium,' as that would wipe out his entire island-creation.
He needed a tool designed specifically for this kind of pest.
He looked at his 'Harmony Tree,' then at the spectral table of food, and finally at the mossy doormat. His entire creation was a testament to life, order, and welcome. This weed was its perfect opposite. He couldn't let it win.
He walked over to his plant-shack. He didn't go inside. He placed his hand on the living wood of the wall. He thought back to his farm on Aethelgard, to the shady corner where his 'Shadow-Thorn' vine grew. He thought of its unique nature, its ability to exist between life and death, to consume the void.
He had recreated his home, his friends, his food. But he had forgotten to recreate his most unique tool.
He focused his will, drawing on the memory and the conceptual blueprint of the 'Shadow-Thorn.' He commanded the living wood of the shack to produce a new tool, not one of life, but one of balance.
From the wall of the shack, a new farm implement began to grow. It wasn't a sickle or a hoe. It was a simple, elegant hand-rake, the kind used for clearing away dead leaves and weeds. But this rake was made from the same smooth, grey, bone-like material as the thorns on the 'Shadow-Thorn' vine. Its tines were sharp and cool to the touch. It radiated an aura not of life or death, but of quiet, impartial neutrality.
[Divine Tool Created: 'The Cultivator of Entropy's End' (or 'The Balance Rake' for short)]
[Effect: A tool of perfect equilibrium. Does not affect living or undead matter. However, it can directly interact with and manipulate conceptual voids, null-energies, and other reality-erasing phenomena as if they were common garden weeds.]
Ren took the rake. It felt light and perfectly balanced in his hands. He walked over to the encroaching Null-Ivy, which was now just inches from his house.
He didn't make a grand swing. He simply started raking.
He placed the tines of the Balance Rake at the leading edge of the creeping void-vine and pulled back. The effect was immediate and bizarre. The Null-Ivy, a terrifying conceptual plague, behaved like a simple, physical weed. The rake's tines dug into its non-substance, and it was pulled up from the ground, its "roots" of erased reality tearing free with a faint zipping sound.
Ren raked with a steady, practiced rhythm. He gathered the writhing strips of pure nothingness into a neat little pile. The Null-Ivy struggled, trying to erase the rake, but the tool was conceptually immune to it. To the rake, the weed was just a weed.
The other contestants, who were still engaged in their own epic struggles, paused to watch. They saw the farmer, with a simple-looking garden rake, tidying up a patch of reality-devouring plague as if he were just clearing his lawn of autumn leaves.
The Spore-Shepherd, who had thought itself clever for absorbing the weed, faltered. It had treated the problem with power. The farmer had treated it with the proper tool. The farmer's understanding of the fundamental nature of the problem was deeper.
In less than a minute, Ren had raked up every last bit of the Null-Ivy. He now had a neat, writhing pile of anti-existence sitting in the middle of his island. The problem of what to do with it remained. He couldn't just leave it there.
He looked at the pile, then at his compost bin he'd grown behind the shack. An idea, born of his unshakeable farmer's logic, occurred to him. He scooped up the pile of null-ivy with his rake—it felt like carrying a piece of empty space—and dumped it into the compost bin.
The compost bin, filled with decaying (but still potent) life-energy, reacted with the null-energy. Life and anti-life met in a contained, controlled environment. They didn't explode. They annihilated each other perfectly, releasing a single, brief flash of pure, neutral energy and leaving behind a single, small, grey pearl of "potential essence" at the bottom of the bin. He had not just eradicated the weed; he had recycled it.
[Challenge Complete!] the Primordial Entity's voice boomed, filled with unrestrained glee. [Winner of Round Two, by way of 'Cosmic Composting,' is Farmer Ren!]
Another golden turnip trophy materialized next to the first one on his island.
Ren leaned his new rake against the side of his shack, satisfied with a job well done. He had faced a reality-eating plague and his first instinct had been to turn it into fertilizer.
The Spore-Shepherd quivered with rage. It had been outmaneuvered, out-thought, and out-farmed twice in a row. The Overmind, connected to its champion, felt a surge of cosmic fury. Its plans were being dismantled by a being who refused to play by the conventional rules of power. This farmer didn't fight; he cultivated. He didn't destroy; he recycled.
The final round, the Overmind decided, would not be one of subtlety or skill. It would be one of pure, overwhelming, corrupted force. It would force the farmer to fight on its terms. The final round would be a harvest of a very different kind.