Chapter 67

In the dimly lit quarantine camp, the light spot on Seed 237's forehead pulsed violently. On the surface, he seemed to be in a deep sleep, but inside, he was being dragged into an unrecognizable void.

—The sound began to emerge.

The first sound was the cold tone of the Lightroot Messenger:

"If darkness completely takes over him, you must end it yourself."

The sound transformed into a massive blade of light, hovering in mid-air, its icy edge aimed directly at his heart.

Immediately afterwards, shadows spread from the depths of the void, followed by the whispers of shadow spies:

"Let the parasite take control... You will become the perfect vessel."

Countless black vines emerged from the edge of the void, like hungry snakes, attempting to burrow into his body and completely envelop him.

What followed was the sigh of the free elder:

"If your existence brings annihilation, we cannot perish with you."

These words spread out like parched earth, and layers of sand swallowed up the foothold of 237, causing him to gradually sink into the illusion.

The three voices overlapped, sometimes low and sometimes sharp, like a soul-rending symphony playing in his ear.

Deep within the illusion, the shadow parasitized into a blurry human figure, its eyes gleaming with amusement:

"Did you hear that? They don't trust you; they just want to use you."

Light demands your purification, darkness demands your dedication, freedom demands your sacrifice...

"But all I want is for you to exist completely."

The dazzling white light of the Light Root clashed with the black mist of the Shadow within his body, impacting every inch of his soul. The aura of Freedom Flour swayed like the wind, constantly tearing at his balance.

Seed237 clenched his teeth in the illusion, his chest feeling as if it were about to be torn apart. His low growl was swallowed by the void, yet he still stubbornly uttered a sentence:

"My existence will not be defined by you!"

This roar caused the light to tremble, the shadows to rage, and even the sand and dust to pause.

However, the shadow parasite laughed.

It was close to his ear, its sound like a feather brushing against his ear:

The more you resist, the more sober I become.

Remember—I am within you, waiting for your weakest moment.

The light flickered violently, and the illusion shattered abruptly.

Seed 237 suddenly opened its eyes, and the sky above the isolation camp came back into view.

The light on his forehead flickered intermittently, and fine beads of cold sweat trickled down his temples.

He slowly raised his eyes and looked at Sprout 12, who was standing guard to the side.

Deep in my heart, I couldn't shake off that echoing whisper.

Seed 237's chest heaved violently, as if he had not yet fully escaped the tearing apart of the illusion. He raised his hand to cover his forehead, the light flickered erratically, and the branches and leaves trembled slightly.

"...You're awake."

Sprout 12's voice came from the side, low and deep, yet carrying an undeniable weariness.

237 turned his head and saw Ya Dou staring at him with a complicated expression. There was concern in his eyes, but also doubt.

After a moment of silence, Ya Dou spoke:

"Just now, your light... was off."

His gaze was fixed on 237's forehead, where the flickering light seemed to confirm his suspicions.

237's branches tightened slightly, and a sharp pain shot through his heart. He wanted to explain, but didn't know where to begin. Should he say that the shadow parasite was still within him? Should he say that he was trying to "understand" that darkness? But he knew horribly what those words would mean if they were uttered.

Sprout didn't wait for his answer, her voice slowly lowering:

"You're not... really getting close to it, are you?"

The air suddenly froze.

237 gripped the branches tightly and whispered:

"I'm just... looking for a way to survive."

Sprout's pupils contracted sharply, and pain and disbelief flashed in her eyes.

"Survive? By that thing? Do you even know what it is!"

“I know!” 237’s voice suddenly rose, hoarse and on the verge of collapse.

"But if we don't face it, we won't even have a chance to survive!"

His roar echoed through the empty tents before abruptly ceasing.

The two looked at each other, their breathing rapid and unsteady.

Sprout 12 slowly shifted her gaze, her Adam's apple bobbing slightly, but she said nothing more. She left only a cold sentence:

"You are walking a path that I cannot see clearly."

These words, like an icy blade, pierced into 237's heart.

He opened his mouth, but could only murmur softly in the silence:

"...But at least, it's the only way."

The tent was deathly silent, as if even the wind had held its breath.

The night was deep, and the sound of the wind wandered along the edge of the shattered field of light, carrying a harsh, gritty quality.

The moment Sprout 12 stepped out of the tent, a wave of icy cold hit him. He didn't look back, but simply stepped into the dim wasteland.

A dull ache filled his chest, as if something heavy was pressing down on it. He knew perfectly well that Seed 237 was telling the truth; it was their only way out. But why did such a deep fear surge within him when he heard 237 admit to coming into contact with that darkness?

Is it the fear of being parasitized by shadows, or... the fear of losing 237?

He couldn't tell.

Sprout looked up at the night sky. There was no radiance of the Mother Tree, only a deathly abyss, as if it would swallow everything. He suddenly remembered the way 237 looked when it lost control during that battle—its eyes flowed with a dark light, and its voice carried an unfamiliar coldness. That was not his familiar partner, but a strange and dangerous being.

What should 237 do if one day he is completely swallowed by darkness?

Sprout 12's fingers trembled slightly. He was the Guardian, and he should have decisively cut off all danger at that moment. But the thought of personally dealing with 237 made his heart feel like it was being torn apart.

He lowered his head, exhaled a long breath, and a deep conflict flashed in his eyes.

"Should I believe you...237?"

The wind howled, but it gave him no answer.

Sprout 12 slowly closed his eyes, his body swaying slightly, as if silently fighting with himself. Finally, he reopened his eyes, his gaze complex yet resolute.

Even if you truly fall into darkness, I will stand by your side.

—Until the very last moment.

In the distance, crimson mist was silently approaching. Bean Sprout 12 watched it, its hand slowly clenching, its gaze gradually sharpening.

He was destined to be sleepless that night.