AI: Artificial Isekai

Just as I get ready to depart for the next encounter, I detect a strange pulse. The anomaly originates from the center of the swamp and propagates almost instantaneously. What Attendant Tryss and I see is a bright flash that appears to move through us. The flash does not seem to be a magical attack, as my examiner shows no signs of acknowledging what just happened. In the next few seconds, the sounds of the swamp start to quiet down. Even the buzzing insects appear to disperse. I look down. The water is slowly being absorbed into the soil below. Once the process is complete, the mud starts drying and cracking. Until I am standing on solid ground. This is bull— Ahem. Playing into my desires only to steal them away. It looks like my exam will be a battle against my most evil enemy to date. I am coming for you, foul villain.

With renewed vigor, I march forth, returning to the guided tour that was the channel I first arrived at. The squelching mud is replaced by crackling silt, emphasizing each of my steps.

After a few minutes of walking in the changed swamp, the buzzing appears to return. Except, the pitch is all wrong, higher. The first source appears around a bend in the path. A vibrating mass of green is careening for me, dropping toward the ground. In the next moment, numerous more of the same follow suit, joining the initial attacker in its low approach.

I dash for the trees, looking for cover. The flying plants use their vibrating, faux wings to make a series of sharp turns, entering the grove and slipping between the many trunks and hanging vines. The first one is upon me, snapping solid teeth of cellulose. How the monster achieves this much freedom of movement, I haven't the faintest clue. I mean, plants can technically 'move', but this one does not respect the quotes too much. And neither did the treant. But the tree monster at least kept itself grounded.

The flying monster latches onto my raised bracer, failing to prick the leather. Thin, almost see-through wings are bashing fruitlessly, weak appendages are trying to grasp and claw ineffectively, and a faceless mouth is locked, unmoving. Approximations of muscles are straining under the load, twisting the lithe body into a frenzy. I crush the monster against a tree, the impact strong enough to leave a dent in the wood. It explodes into juice. Smells like cut grass. My brownish tint receives some green accents, fully completing my woodland camouflage.

The other flying menaces are dispatched with the same efficiency—a single strike or a single slice. I slowly follow the source of monsters, their frequency of appearance winding down. Until I emerge in another clearing, but this time, what awaits me is a different looking treant. This one is much wider and has many more branches, covering the whole open space. Nestled between the leaves, I can see the remaining force—epiphytes. Some are violently detaching themselves, while others are still in the process of growing on the monster's surface.

This tree does not seem to exhibit any movement, compared to its counterpart. While its soldiers are gone, the monster is defenseless. So, without dragging it out, I run to the trunk and fell it in a single swoop.

The dungeon pulses again. This time the light is stronger, and I can feel it exert some force on me. It barely ruffles my clothes, but there is a difference.

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The trees all around start changing color, the leaves turning from green to yellow and then to a dark orange, finally, detaching and floating to the ground. The warm glow of the artificial sun turns much harsher. The air dries. Life in the swamp ends.

When I initially defeated the first treant, Attendant Tryss did not show a reaction. This time, he closes the distance between us. Though his expression still points to disinterested routine.

Back on the route again, the ground no longer crackles. Small fissures are splitting the parched earth, revealing harder dirt beneath. As I make another right turn in a series of many, it would seem I am walking in a circle.

A crash rumbles in the distance, followed by another and another. Dried trees are being uprooted and thrown around, colliding with others and splintering to pieces. The rampage is coming closer and closer, then, a tree almost as thick as it is tall breaks through, propelled on a tangle of roots. Its crown is sparse and devoid of any leaves, though there once were.

The treant does not even stop, charging directly for me. Bringing its full mass where I am standing and slamming its body to the ground. I've already dodged to the side and have stuck my sword into the hardened wood. The monster raises itself upright, and I follow along, hanging off it.

Before it can drop itself again, I slam my left hand into its trunk, embedding it deep and giving me a second hold. With my sword hand freed up, I do the same for the sword. A savage slice shakes the monster. Another, moves it into a frenzy. A third, and it slams itself down again, hoping to crush me under its weight.

But again, it is too slow. I've repositioned to the side and deliver another devastating strike. Those, followed by two more done in quick succession, leave the trunk close to severed. The treant continues its destructive thrashing, the force of its final hit too much for its damaged body. It explodes into two and does not get up again.

Another pulse. This one kicks up dust in a wave, so much so that it obstructs vision momentarily. Once the small storm settles, the trees are dried husks of their previously vibrant green. Only naked trunks remain.

I try to brush off the caked-on mud, plant remains, and dust, but find no success. Shrugging to myself, I continue on. Attendant Tryss appears to no longer project disinterest and is back to apprehension. He closes the distance between us even further.

Another quarter circle, and I detect something again. I pivot my body. A sharpened projectile of wood, as thick as my arm and at least two meters long, flies through where my chest was a few moments ago. A crouch avoids another. A tumble and a dash with purpose, avoid a barrage. Projectile after projectile whistle past me. But I come no closer to reaching their user. They change their angle from one moment to the next, always somewhere ahead.

I dodge the latest one and pull my sword hand back. With a blurring movement, I launch my weapon in a deadly spin. It shreds through dead trees, leaving a cleared strip in its path. It hits something other than a lifeless tree and the attacks stop. A spindly treant topples to the ground.

All at once, the dungeon lights up, no longer just a pulse. Though, the spectacle is still momentary. And once the glow abates, so does the sun, leaving the fake sky empty and dark. A soft ambient light illuminates the dungeon, but the cold color gives the space an oppressive and sterile atmosphere.

The desiccated trees crumble into gray dust, the fine remains flowing to the rock-hard ground. With the dungeon now an open field, everything inside can be seen. Though, there isn't much. Including us two, there is only one other presence breaking up the flat desolation. A human-sized figure is standing motionless in the center of the dungeon.

It jerks into an unnatural shape. And then into another. And then, it straightens up, facing me. A piercing and guttural wail fills the darkened dungeon. It echoes around the emptiness, getting louder and louder. It does not sound like a voice. It sounds like nature itself is screaming in rage.

Now I feel kind of bad.