"You people really do have guts!!"
Duke's palm brushed against the leaves of the Night-Blooming Jelan in front of him, utterly baffled, and, in a strange way, impressed, by their reckless audacity. Of all the things you could've dug up, you chose this?
Even if you'd gone for the local specialty, the Corpse-Shadow Tulip, that would've been fine. But no, you had to dig up the most mysterious and most dangerous flower of all: the Night-Blooming Jelan!
This flower is so rare that many foragers spend half a month, or even half a year, searching for a single one, often with nothing to show for it.
If you'd gone on a field survey, found one, and brought it back, fine, that could at least be chalked up to sheer luck.
But when you saw a whole patch of them, you didn't stop to think, you just dug them all up and carted them home!
What is this supposed to be?
The ultimate version of "inviting a wolf into the house"?
Even people courting death don't do it this blatantly!
Duke rolled his eyes again and again. If it were him, he wouldn't touch a single Night-Blooming Jelan on Ixtal's territory, no matter how beautiful.
This flower is essentially the signature of Zyra, the Thorn Empress.
Every time Zyra appears, it's through these flowers. She emerges, then turns everyone nearby into fertilizer to expand her own territory.
Anyone with a lick of sense wouldn't transplant this into their home or within the "337" boundary line, they'd keep their distance.
Only those utterly ignorant about Ixtal, and foolishly endearing, would do something so suicidal!
No wonder none of Duke's detection measures picked up any signs of the team members' deaths. You practically placed a dinner bell by your bed and invited her over. Zyra would be a fool not to come!
A feast delivered straight to her, even a fool wouldn't turn that down.
Most likely, those who died were taken in the dead of night, Zyra emerging from the flowers, her vines silently binding them and reducing them to nutrients without a sound.
"Are you saying all the deaths and injuries are connected to this flower?"
Jesas stared wide-eyed at the Night-Blooming Jelan on the table. Rengar leaned in to sniff the potted plant carefully. "Strong floral scent…"
"And just a trace of corpse rot."
"All Night-Blooming Jelans are to be confiscated immediately. From now on, any samples collected in the field must be stored in a secured warehouse under strict guard. I'll set it up myself."
"No one is allowed to keep any plants in their own tents, ever again!"
"Because you never know when the thing you bring back might end up killing you."
Duke grabbed the pot from the table and tossed it into his storage inventory. Jesas quickly barked orders to the others, gathering every single flower and handing them all over to Duke.
Seeing it was still early, Duke decided to help Jesas set up the new warehouse, using his Pride-born crystal-growth ability to form the frame, then fitting it with alarm systems and auto-locking devices.
He swept the entire camp and the surrounding hundred meters, destroying every plant, not a single blade of grass left, cutting off Zyra's avenue of appearance.
If she dared to show herself openly, Duke was more than ready to "handle" her.
As for the rest of the Jelans, he destroyed every last one.
Of course, this would inevitably draw Zyra's attention to him, but so what?
If you've got the nerve, come and get me!
By the time they finished, the whole morning had passed.
After calming everyone down, Duke stored away his Pride crystal, then pinned Rengar to the ground and beat him soundly, extending the beast's "project deadline" once again. Then, Duke set out for Parosa.
With his personal flyer, he cruised along unhurriedly. As for finding Uroa's potion?
Naturally, he deployed drones and mechanical scouts for a full sweep.
Whenever they found a temple or ruin, he'd have them investigate, and take the potion if it was there.
That's why Duke always said finding Uroa's potion was basically a sightseeing tour.
When he arrived in Parosa, he landed by a riverbank, pitched his tent from inventory, and set up layers of warning and defense systems.
But as he worked, a prickle ran over his skin, the hair on his arms standing on end.
That primal, instinctive sense of being watched.
Like a light sleeper suddenly waking under someone's gaze.
That was exactly how Duke felt, as if every blade of grass around him had eyes, fixed on him without pause.
He knew exactly where this sensation came from.
Zyra had set her sights on him.
After all, he'd disrupted her feast and cut off her plans for the survivors in camp, her "after-dinner entertainment."
He had flipped the table entirely.
And now, Zyra's focus was entirely on him. This ancient plant-spirit had once made farmland barren, consumed entire settlements, and crushed every brave soul or fool who dared oppose her, leaving behind only a gallery of monstrous flora in her wake.
Every inch of land she touched became a paradise for plants.
And once she marked someone, none had ever escaped.
By evening, Duke had launched his drones, sending them out in all directions from his position in Parosa.
Alongside them, spider-like ground scouts scuttled into action, baseball-sized, round bodies mounted on eight mechanical legs, with cameras for faces, able to traverse any terrain.
All were under Edith's central control.
As a campfire flickered, Duke lounged in a chair. Mosquitoes were kept at bay, and the stifling humidity was dispelled by portable air conditioning.
To an outside observer, he looked like a young man on a holiday camping trip.
But this was no park, and Duke was far from ordinary.
Night deepened. From afar came the howls of shadow-wolves. Duke glanced up at the full moon. Rustling sounds came from the grass nearby, but he ignored them. His cicada companion rested quietly at his collar.
The aerial and ground scans continued. He wasn't in a rush; until the Ixtalkan envoys were ready, he planned to stay put.
Before, he'd been drowning in work. Now, he could afford a moment's laziness.
As he refined his designs, new sparks of thought bloomed in his mind, new "original sins" taking shape, from heart to bone to surface.
By midnight, Duke closed his notes, yawned, and returned to his tent to rest.
Time crept toward the darkest hour before dawn.
From the shadows, countless vine tendrils emerged. Dense vegetation crept silently toward the camp.
But as they neared the perimeter, faint arcs of electricity danced in the air, blocking their advance.
The vines shifted underground, weaving into the beginnings of a prison.
Inside the camp, an unremarkable tuft of grass suddenly changed form.
In an instant, it became an exceedingly rare Night-Blooming Jelan, half-revealed in damp soil.
Its tangled buds, wrapped in crimson withered leaves, swelled with life, vivid reds and greens radiating vitality.
Yet it didn't stop growing. Its exposed roots writhed across the ground, blanketing the narrow space before the camp.
The main stem thickened like a tree trunk. The massive bud opened against the firelight, spilling darkness outward.
A sudden stench polluted the air.
Petals peeled back layer by layer, revealing within, not a stamen, but a woman.
Hair red as blood, skin like living leaves.
Vines and petals coiled around her in a deadly beauty.
Her eyes opened slowly, predator's eyes, like a leopard's, half-lidded in lazy grace yet brimming with hunger.
The woman stepped out from the flower into the camp, arms hanging loose. From each wrist dangled a vine tipped with a budding flower.
The vines swayed playfully as she walked.
The stench faded, replaced by an intoxicating perfume, sweet orange blossom, rich sapphire rose, the fruity aroma of sea-beast lily, the deep musk of moon-pearl, the light grace of wisteria…
And more scents still, from stranger blooms unknown.
She lazily lifted the tent flap, gazing at the man inside. Her vine-arms slithered toward Duke, coiling around his legs, then swiftly wrapping his entire body, constricting like a giant python with its prey.
A triumphant smile curved her lips as she drew him closer.
Duke's eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes black as the night sky.
"Hello there."
Zyra's smile was all wicked allure. Duke inhaled deeply, then smiled back. "I thought you'd lurk in the shadows a while longer."
"Didn't expect you to be so eager to deliver yourself."
Her smile faltered, a flicker of unease, a prickle of danger. She willed her vines to crush him, but her body would not obey.
"I know you might not like this…"
Duke's voice echoed in her mind. The vines loosened from him, only to turn and bind her instead.
"But I still have to say it"
"Welcome."
"To becoming mine."