A slender, poisoned dagger, its tip glowing with a faint, viridian light, pressed gently against Zosima’s exposed throat. Zosima froze, every muscle in her gladiatorial frame tensing. Her eyes, usually burning with competitive fire, narrowed into dangerous slits as she slowly turned her head, fixing them on the figure behind her. Nymira, draped in shadows across the corridor flags, tilted her chin with an icy smirk. “I believe I made myself clear, gladiator. My target.” The blade’s viridian sheen intensified, a faint hiss rising from its edge. “Your… target?” Zosima’s voice was a low growl, her gaze flickering from Nymira to Varnar, who stood slack-jawed, a baby dragon — now named ‘Sparky’ by the system, much to Varnar’s chagrin — still clinging to his shoulder. Sparky, sensing the tension, let out a nervous puff of smoke that singed Varnar’s earlobe. “Precisely,” Nymira purred, the edge nudging Zosima’s collar, drawing a bead of blood. “He is… mine. His movements, his strange angles. They break everything. And I intend to savor every single glitch.” She leaned in, her murmur barely brushing the stone. “You merely want to duel him. I want to dissect him.” [Merit Points Docked: -5 for Unauthorized Physics Interaction – Aggressive Targeting (Nymira)] Varnar, finally finding his voice, stammered, “N-Nymira! Can we… can we not do this here? There are… eyes.” He gestured vaguely at the empty corridor, acutely aware that Othrys could be observing from anywhere. “And Zosima, I… I really don’t want to fight you. I have zero DPS. My combat skills are negative.” Zosima wrenched herself clear with a violent twist, a streak of red arcing onto the polished flagstones. Her knuckles rested on her twin adamantine shortswords, though she did not draw. “You nicked me, assassin. You will pay for that. But first, this runt’s spatial tricks interest me more than your posturing.” She fixed Varnar with a hard scowl. “The festival is in less than two weeks. Everyone is grinding for gear, for survival. Yet you spend your time… upending the very rules of the world. Why?” Varnar flinched at the mention of the server wipe. “I… I need to research it,” he blurted out, tongue tripping over his teeth. “There has to be a way to… bypass it. A sequence break.” Zosima scoffed. “Sequence break? You speak of ancient prophecies as if they are lines of code. There’s only one way to survive the slaughter: reach the required DPS threshold, gain access to the Sunken Bastion, and repel the Lunar Horrors.” “That’s the *intended* way,” Varnar muttered, already heading towards the Schola’s towering Archival Spire, a structure resembling a petrified lightning bolt. “I need to find the *unintended* way.” Nymira drifted after him, silent as oil over slate. Zosima trailed three paces back, scowling at the assassin's back. “Fine. But if you’re wasting my time, ‘gardener,’ you’ll regret it more than that cut.” The Archival Spire was a labyrinth of dusty, ancient scrolls and glowing data-crystals, the air thick with the scent of parchment and ozone. Varnar, guided by hazy memories of his game testing days, led them to the restricted ‘Planetary Lore & Eschatology’ section. As he began pulling various scroll-cases, Sparky, still perched on his shoulder, let out a tiny, high-pitched burp, spewing a puff of smoke that singed a shelf of brittle papyrus. “Careful, you little menace,” Varnar whispered, gently nudging the baby dragon, who merely blinked with innocent, reptilian eyes. Nymira observed with an unnerving intensity, while Zosima muttered about ‘pointless academic pursuits’ and ‘wasted combat potential’. Varnar found a data-crystal labeled ‘Crimson Moon Festival: Server Stability Protocols’. He slotted it into a nearby plinth. The stone pedestal hummed, casting glowing glyphs against the masonry. *“Initiation of Planetary Deletion Script: Protocol ‘Crimson Moon Festival’ initiated. Remaining Time: 336 hours.”* “Three hundred thirty-six hours?” Zosima gasped, pale against the blue glow. “That’s… fourteen days! A hard deadline!” [Achievement Unlocked: Critical Information Acquisition (Crimson Moon Timer)] The heavy adamantine doors slammed shut with a clang that set the masonry ringing. Dust sifted down from the rafters. A distorted baritone filled the vaulted hall. “A fascinating discovery, Varnar. And a timely one.” A shimmering phantasm of Magister Othrys coalesced before them, his kindly smile gone taut and thin, his gaze flat as flint. “Magister Othrys?” Zosima snarled, drawing her swords, their adamantine blades humming with latent energy. “What is the meaning of this?” “The meaning, dear gladiator, is quite simple,” the phantasm replied, gaze locked on Varnar. “I have spent centuries bound by these mortal coils, by the rigid mechanics of this realm. But you, Varnar… you are an anomaly. Your craft is not mere botany. It is spatial manipulation, bending reality itself.” The elder took a step forward across empty air. “I witnessed your vault break. Your blossoms scrambled Nymira’s pathfinding. Your sapling weaponized environmental colliders. You slip through solid masonry and break the world's bounds. This is arcane spatial corruption.” His tone dropped to a hiss that rattled the bookshelves. “I require your methods, Varnar. With that knowledge, I can bypass the ancient wards of immortality and ascend beyond the reach of the coming purge.” [Critical Dialogue Event Triggered: Othrys’s True Intent Revealed] Nymira shifted her grip on her stiletto, baring her teeth at the apparition. Zosima drew both shortswords. “Immortality? Dissection? You’ve lost your mind, Magister!” “A madman with a level 90 lockdown spell at my disposal, I assure you,” the phantasm chuckled. “No one leaves this vault until I have extracted what I need from our little herbalist. I am quite interested in the precise coordinates of your collision anomalies.” Level 90 lockdown. Zero combat stats. Varnar scanned the chamber floor, spotting an ornamental stone planter filled with loam. An interactive terrain prop. He reached into his inventory, pulling out a handful of Creeping Ironroot Vine seeds, a common, fast-growing plant he’d collected in his early days for minor traversal challenges. He moved towards the planter, his movements quick and decisive. “What are you doing, boy?” Othrys’s projection demanded, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. Varnar ignored him. He knelt by the planter, quickly scattering the seeds. Then, with a frantic burst of input, he activated his most basic arborist skill: ‘Rapid Growth Frame Acceleration’. [Skill Activated: Rapid Growth Frame Acceleration] [Merit Points Docked: -10 for Improper Physics Interaction – Accelerated Growth Rates] The seeds germinated in an eye-blink. Coiling Ironroot erupted from the loam, burls swelling at unnatural speed as woody fibers braided upward. The canopy slammed into the vaulted stonework, expanding without deceleration. “Impossible!” Othrys roared, his apparition distorting as the frame rate hitched around the expanding mesh. The ironroot clipped directly through the roof polygons, ignoring hitboxes entirely. Varnar seized a fibrous bough and kicked upward, the whelp clinging to his collar with tiny, frantic claws. “He forces the animation tick past the surface boundary!” Nymira breathed, pupils dilated in adoration. “Brilliant. So utterly… broken.” Zosima stared upward as Varnar hoisted his torso straight through the glitched seam overhead, leaving the grinding creak of ruptured texture maps behind. “Get back here, you impudent glitch!” Othrys screamed, his spectral form radiating pure fury. “That knowledge is MINE!” Varnar tumbled out onto the slate shingles of the spire roof, wiping sap and plaster dust from his face. Caldera wind struck him with the stench of sulfur, drowning out Othrys's distant screams. [Achievement Unlocked: Spatial Ascendant (Growth Frame Exploit)] He checked his HUD. The server timer glowed ominously. [Planetary Deletion Script: 312:00:00 Remaining] Three hundred and twelve hours. Thirteen days. Othrys knew his tricks now. Running was useless; the purge clock ticked down regardless. Varnar scrambled to his feet across the pitch tiles. To shatter the main questline before the wipe, he had to drag the hopelessly under-leveled Gallio into the endgame raid zone by tomorrow morning.

Growth Frame Ascension