Stuck As A Dungeon Mob

What was the difference between peak B-class and the start of A-class? On paper, it was a difference of 50 points.

The peak was described written down as 1000 and the start of A-class as 1050 after all. But if the gap between C and B could be explained by who was, and who wasn’t capable of harnessing mana… what was responsible for this small gap in B and A?

Why was there an increasingly large number of B-class adventurers but a comparatively scarce number of A-class adventurers? The real difference was… Identity.

Being A-class could not be described by simple numbers, complex numbers maybe but not by a simple combat assessment. Thus, it was a matter of identity. A defining move, a trump card of sorts that holds a trace of your power and personality. Your philosophy and your understanding. It needed some element of all of this.

The refined swordsmanship of Samuel Oakley did not earn him the name tempest. It was his ability to combine wind and water to form a storm. Drake Vermilion was aptly nicknamed Vermilion. His fists of fire which shone a fierce red were not necessarily unique to him, but the fiery field of flames which he summoned and scorched the earth red with blood and flames were.

That being the case… What did Balin have? What was he called? What could he do?

He was the gardener for he could grow plants. From a military angle, he was a single man provisional army. Thus, Balin was an expert on the sword but he was also an expert on support. But… what could he do?

Swinging a sword was nothing special but Balin was a knight first and foremost. That was his lineage and that was to be his heritage. To protect, being a knight all boiled down to protecting the weak and defenseless.

So as the fire spread through gaps and threatened to consume him and his subordinates Balin did not hesitate to put himself at risk. He threw out every single seed at his disposal and wrung his body dry of mana.

The seeds, no matter their function, were all inundated by the deep green plant mana Balin was known for. They all grew explosively be it in number or power, Balin did not discriminate as he grew the plants he was so attuned with.

“AAAAHHHH!!!!” A knight screamed as he was assaulted by deadly flames

But to protect he needed to expend more effort.

“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGHHHH” So Balin let out a scream of his own as the weeds, flowers, trees, roots, grew larger and larger encompassing and slowly swallowing his body whole.

He wrung and wrung until there was only his health left to wring. If that was all that was left… there was no other choice… The roots of some plants dug into his body and started feeding on his blood. The roots spread throughout his body until Balin’s eyes turned bloodshot from the pain.

The blood-sucking trees would turn his blood into mana and this mana could then be used to maintain the other trees. This was fine.

“AAARGH!” Balin screamed now with a mix of agony and determination, neither related to his own excruciating pain. Because with every second, that felt like an hour, his eyes could see hefty rocks fall on his subordinates and flames alighting their backs.

This was his fault, he needed to try harder. But his plants continued to grow without method, they were unruly as nature had willed it. Whereby chance they sealed a hole, the flames would inevitably find faults and burn through all the same.

The plants would eventually grow there stubbornly anew but it wasn’t enough. Exchanging his blood for mana alone wasn’t cutting it. He had to go deeper, the plants had to go deeper.

Balin’s figure which had long since become a monstrous core of green and brown started to shake and pulsate as if coming to life. The roots in Balin’s body had started to connect to his brain through his nervous system and Balin’s mind which felt lightheaded from blood loss suddenly became much clearer.

He wasn’t the gardener, becoming one with the plants he grew and using them as an extension of his own body, he had quite literally become the garden. A nickname only shared amongst those in the know.

The plants which were growing without shape or reason suddenly started to shift and change with method and structure. It was as if a natural fortress of many swathes of color was being created before the eyes of the soldiers.

Flowers bloomed and fruits grew, stalwart bark barely visible at the forefront of things being blocked by green vines. The sweet fragrance of nature which was a nightmare for those with allergies assaulted the nostrils of all the knights. ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

“Commander!” Siar shouted in alarm holding a shield with his sole remnant arm.

The flames stopped pouring in and the rocks would fall on a net of bark, vines, weeds, flowers, etc.

“Commander!!!!” Ray also shouted with a steely expression. In what some could call the garden of Eden there were only sorrowful cries.

The rumbling of settling stones stopped, but peace had not returned remaining broken by quiet sobs and murmurs.

The garden was a risky move, the chances of survival were slim in each instance. But that Balin still lived to this moment proved that it wasn’t impossible to survive. Yet no one could cling to this sorry hope.

Worst of all, even if they were to dig out their commander to give him hope to survive they could all perish.

“Let’s get him out!” A middle-aged knight yelled out running with a sword in hand straight towards the heart of nature where Balin was currently entrapped. Ray clenched his fists before aiming his bow at the knight.

“Stop!” He shouted with great frustration. The knight froze almost instantly, he could feel the radiant light that was aimed straight at his head.

Without a source of nutrients, or mana, the plants would all start to wither and the rocks which were being held up by the leafy net would fall on them all. That could not be permitted, as a squad leader, Ray could not permit it.

“The commander doesn’t want us to die” Another knight pitched in while looking downcast. Wasn’t that the same as saying nothing? Why else would he have done this if he didn’t value their lives over his own?

“We just hav- We just have to dig out a safe spot! L- Let’s do it!” A mage said lifting his arms ready to manipulate the earth at a moment’s notice.

“Right” “Yeah” “He’s right!” “Let’s hurry” The other knights assented with nods or words of approval. Others assented with actions, they prepared to dig past the grassy floor and create a small safe zone. If they reinforced it enough it wouldn’t cave in later…

But some would stand in place and bite their lips because they knew that by the time they could finish such a large space and ensure it wouldn’t collapse, Balin would have likely perished.

The representative commander Balin, the gardener, no, the garden, was in their minds already dead or in an irreversible comatose state.

The plants merged together and shared nutrients with Balin at the center keeping them all alive but leaving Balin imprisoned. This was a cycle that could not be broken as different magical plants needed different sources of energy and returned something which another plant might need. The energy would last for at least the midterm.

But… was Balin really dead then? His nervous system and body were still connected to the walls, floors, and ceilings, They were connected with the trees that acted as pillars and to even the smallest blade of grass.

Balin could feel it all. What he couldn’t feel was himself. But that was an easy fix, if the plants were forming a sort of extremely cost-effective loop then that meant they didn’t need his own nutrients. Actually, Balin could now even steal some of the nutrients that were being shared with him as the center.

Balin’s mind which remained intact processed all of this quickly and came up with an effective plan to leave with both his life and that of his subordinates.

He had to hurry however as there did come a risk with using this trump card. The damage to his body would grow more and more irreversible the longer he persisted at the core.

With him in control, the trees and plants did not use him as a nutrient but eventually, he would slip up. He was not a machine he was a man and men were prone to make mistakes. His brain would also not remain perpetually awake. He would one day have to rest and once he did the plants would consume his body.

Thus, Balin planned to exit within at most a week. Any more and he could still escape but the chances of recovering from his wounds would slim.

The knights which all shared different opinions all froze as the plants all abruptly shook.

“Huh?” With their attention brought back to the plants, a pathway suddenly opened up on one of the walls. This path was keenly noticed by a knight who inspected it closely.

It was a path made of roots that continued to expand at a snail’s pace. They would eat at the rock slowly but surely tilt slightly upwards.

“Everyone! Our commander has not abandoned us just yet!” At a snail’s pace things were bound to look grim but if they helped… the commander might stand a chance to live!