Chapter 11: The Beast Beneath the Roots

The Tapovan deepened with each step.

Trees no longer stood—they loomed. Their trunks were thick as towers, roots stretching like coiled serpents across the damp forest floor. Leaves whispered to each other in a tongue older than language, and even the wind moved carefully here, as if bowing to some invisible presence.

Adityaveer and Advika had crossed into the inner forest, where no path could be trusted, and no light lasted long.

The forest was no longer testing them with illusion or wisdom.

Now, it was watching how they survived.

On the fifth week of their journey, the map their systems had co-created—the living glyph made of both magic and code—began to vibrate with interference. The forest had shifted again.

[ENVIRONMENTAL STABILITY: 3%]

[CARTOGRAPHIC NETWORK INCOMPATIBLE – LIVE UPDATES SUSPENDED]

[WARNING: GENETIC SIGNATURE DETECTED – CLASS: SHADOW ROOT BEAST]

They stopped under a banyan tree that arched like a bridge above a mossy hill. A foul smell curled through the air—wet fur and rotting bark.

Advika narrowed her eyes. "There's something watching."

Adityaveer pressed his hand to the soil.

His system blinked.

[Subsurface vibration detected.]

[Weight: Approx. 3,200 kg]

[Mobility type: Tunneling / Burrowing]

Something large was moving beneath them.

They both stood. Weapons were drawn, though simple in form—her obsidian ritual dagger, his handmade spark-sling with copper bolts. What they lacked in raw power, they made up for in synchronization.

The ground trembled.

Then cracked.

In a blink, the roots under the banyan split open like jaws, and a massive beast lunged forth—its skin a fusion of bark and stone, eyes glowing like embers soaked in blood. Six clawed legs tore through the earth, and its mouth opened not forward, but downward, spiraling into darkness like a sinkhole.

"Advika, MOVE!"

They jumped back as the creature—a Valmīkra, a beast born from corrupted tree spirits—roared, shattering a nearby stone.

Adityaveer ran calculations.

[Body Armor: Wood-flesh hybrid – weak to heat and acid]

[Target Core: Hidden behind neck-ridge]

[Simulate Attack Outcome: Advika glyph + bolt fire: 62% success]

He called out, "Aim for the neck—back ridge!"

But she was already ahead of him.

Advika leapt backward onto a rock ledge, sliced her palm with the dagger, and used her blood to paint a quick glyph in the air. A burst of violet flame spiraled toward the Valmīkra, blinding it momentarily.

Adityaveer launched two spark-bolts straight into the burning glyph.

The combined impact caused a magical combustion—not loud, but deep, like thunder trapped in a jar. The beast shrieked, part of its barked armor collapsing in fiery splinters.

But it didn't die.

It dived back underground.

"Where is it—?" Advika gasped.

Adityaveer's system flared red.

[AMBUSH LIKELY – RETREAT ADVISED]

"Too late," he muttered.

The ground beneath Advika exploded.

Roots surged up like snakes, dragging her down.

"ADVIKA!"

She vanished beneath the soil.

Adityaveer sprinted forward, uncaring of the danger. He slammed his hand on the forest floor, overriding the system's warning.

[Initiating seismic feedback scan…]

[Location found. Depth: 3.4 meters]

"Don't you die on me—"

He pulled a copper sphere from his satchel. A prototype pressure detonator, built for fishing traps. Not tested.

No time.

He dropped it into the opening where she fell and whispered, "Please work."

A soft click. Then BOOM.

The earth ripped open—and he saw her, coughing, tangled in root tendrils—but alive.

He jumped in, slicing through the roots, dragging her out.

The beast roared in agony from below—but did not return.

They rolled onto the grass together, gasping.

The silence afterward was almost cruel.

—

Night fell.

They lit no fire.

Advika sat against a tree, arms wrapped around her knees. Dirt streaked her cheeks. Her left hand was scraped and shaking.

Adityaveer sat across from her, his own shoulder bruised and swollen. He hadn't said anything since they escaped.

Finally, she whispered, "I froze."

He looked up.

"I could have died, and I froze."

He shook his head. "You didn't. You adapted. You hit it before I even spoke."

She gave a hollow laugh. "And still, it dragged me under."

"Still, you survived."

She turned her eyes to the stars. "This forest doesn't care about our systems. Or our simulations. Or the fact that we're 'watched' by something bigger."

Adityaveer leaned back. "Maybe that's the point."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

He stared into the night. "Maybe the reason the Creativerse, the battlefield universe—whatever is watching us—hasn't interfered… is because it wants to know if we're more than tools."

Silence.

Advika looked at him—really looked. In the starlight, his features looked older, more tired, and yet… brighter.

Then she said softly, "Thank you. For jumping in."

He smiled faintly. "Anytime. But next time, maybe you catch me."

She smirked. "Fair deal."

They fell asleep leaning against the same tree, breath steady, systems at low pulse.

That night, they dreamed again—not of the battlefield.

But of a tree with eyes.

Watching them.

And smiling.