Wood Demon - Chapter 4
Chapter 4: Photosynthesis of Power
The darkness within the cramped burrow beneath the ancient tree’s roots was absolute, a thick, smothering velvet that offered no visual distractions. For Jack, this was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because it held at bay the screaming, primal terror of the sun, the `0% Sunlight Resistance` a death sentence that still echoed like a fault line through his fractured psyche. A curse, because in the enforced stillness, with nothing to see and nowhere to go, he was left alone with his thoughts. And his thoughts were uniformly, relentlessly horrific.
He huddled against the cool, damp earth, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them as if trying to hold himself together. The hours crawled by with agonizing slowness, each tick of an imaginary clock a fresh opportunity for his mind to replay the atrocities at the farmhouse. The splintering door. The looks of terror on their faces. The coppery taste of blood, a sensation his demonic palate now seemed to crave, even as his human soul recoiled in revulsion. The small, wooden bird, splattered crimson. That image, more than any other, was a relentless tormentor.
“So, this is the glamorous unlife of a demon,” he muttered into the darkness, his voice raspy and hollow. “Cave-dwelling chic. Avoiding daylight like it personally insulted my mother. Next, I’ll be developing a severe aversion to garlic and complaining that they just don’t make crypts like they used to.” His attempt at humor was a pathetic, broken thing, a reflex from a life that felt a million years and a thousand atrocities away. It did nothing to dispel the crushing weight of guilt that pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him more effectively than the close confines of the burrow.
The translucent blue System screen still hovered faintly in his peripheral vision, an unwelcome, spectral companion. `Demon: Jack. Level: 6 (37%)`. It was a constant, clinical reminder of what he’d become. “Level 6,” he scoffed quietly. “Abilities include: mass murder, advanced moping, and… Plant? Still waiting for that particular superpower to manifest in a useful way. Maybe I can bore my enemies to death with a dramatic reading of a seed catalogue.”
He shifted uncomfortably, the rough bark of the massive tree root he leaned against digging into his back. He’d instinctively chosen this spot, pressed against the largest, most solid presence in his tiny prison. He reached out a hand, idly tracing the deep grooves and whorls in the ancient wood, the texture surprisingly complex beneath his fingertips. It was something to do, a tactile distraction from the relentless horror show playing on repeat in his mind.
“You’ve been here a while, haven’t you, Woody?” he addressed the root, his voice barely a whisper. He’d taken to calling it Woody, partly as a nod to the obvious, partly out of a desperate, aching loneliness that gnawed at him almost as intensely as the demonic hunger had earlier. “Seen a lot of seasons, I bet. Lot of weirdos like me crawling under your… uh… undercarriage for a bit of shut-eye?”
As his fingers traced the root’s contours, a faint, unexpected sensation prickled at his demonic senses. It wasn’t just the physical texture of the bark. There was something else. A subtle thrum, a low, almost imperceptible vibration deep within the wood, like the purring of some unimaginably vast, subterranean creature. He pressed his palm flat against the root, concentrating.
The sensation grew stronger, clearer. It was… life. He could vaguely sense the slow, ponderous processes of the colossal tree above him. The patient, relentless draw of water and unseen nutrients from deep within the earth, pulled upwards through an intricate network of unseen channels. And, more astonishingly, he could sense a distant, almost ethereal process happening far above, in the unseen canopy: the silent, miraculous alchemy of sunlight being captured, transformed, converted into pure, vibrant energy.
Photosynthesis.
He was somehow, inexplicably, sensing the very lifeblood of the ancient tree.
A flicker of something other than misery – curiosity, perhaps, a ghost of his old, inquisitive self – stirred within him. “Well, well, Woody,” he murmured, a touch of genuine surprise in his tone. “You’re more interesting than you look, big guy. Got a whole secret life going on in here, huh? Little botanical buzz. Is this what they mean by ‘good vibes’?” This bizarre, one-sided conversation with a tree root was probably a sign he was losing what little remained of his sanity, but right now, it was the only interaction he had.
His Blood Demon Art: Plant. The System’s pronouncement had seemed absurd, almost insulting, given the bloody nature of his transformation. But now… this strange, empathic connection to the tree… A wild, desperate, almost ludicrous idea began to form in the desperate recesses of his mind. If he could sense this energy, this life force… could he interact with it? Could he… draw from it?
His demonic nature, Muzan’s cells thrumming within him, urged him towards consumption, towards taking. But the thought of spilling more blood, of harming another living human, was still a fresh, agonizing wound. This tree, though… it was alive, yes, but not in the same way. It was ancient, vast, its energy seemingly boundless, drawn from the very sun he was forced to hide from.
“Okay, Jack, let’s try a little experiment,” he said to himself, or perhaps to Woody. “Worst case scenario, I just look like an idiot hugging a tree root in the dark. Which, frankly, is probably an improvement on my current résumé.”
He closed his eyes, pressing his palm more firmly against the root. He tried to remember the sensation of drinking the family’s blood – the pulling, the drawing, the absorption of life force – but he recoiled from the memory, a fresh wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. No, this had to be different. He focused on the gentle, thrumming energy he sensed within the wood, the clean, green vitality of it. He visualized that energy flowing, not violently, but willingly, a gentle current drawn from an endless river. He focused his will, his demonic hunger now carefully, tentatively redirected.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, just as he was about to give up, to dismiss it as another descent into madness, he felt it. A faint, cool trickle. Not like blood, hot and coppery, but like a refreshing stream of pure, liquid vitality flowing from the root into his palm, up his arm, and into his very being. It was a gentle, almost soothing sensation, and with it came a familiar, yet entirely unexpected, chime in his mind.
Ding.
[+5 EXP]
Jack’s eyes snapped open. He stared at his hand, still pressed against the root, then at the faint, ghostly blue glow of the System message confirming the experience points. He pulled his hand away as if the root had suddenly burned him.
“+5 EXP?” he whispered, incredulous. “From… from touching a tree?” He pressed his hand back, more deliberately this time, focusing again on that gentle pull. The cool trickle resumed, and again, the chime.
[+5 EXP]
A laugh bubbled up in his chest, a strange, shaky sound that was part disbelief, part hysteria, and part something else, something he hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity: a tiny, fragile spark of hope. “Holy… holy crap, Woody! You magnificent, photosynthetic bastard! It works! It actually works!”
He didn’t understand how. Was it his ‘Plant’ Blood Demon Art? Was it some fluke of his unique demonic makeup? He didn’t care. All that mattered was that it worked.
He spent the rest of that long, dark day huddled in his burrow, one hand continuously pressed against the life-giving root. The cool, clean energy flowed into him, a slow, steady, life-sustaining IV drip. And with each trickle, the System chimed its approval, the EXP points accumulating with a patient, almost hypnotic rhythm.
[+5 EXP]… [+5 EXP]… [+5 EXP]…
The process was slow, meditative. It gave his ravaged mind something to focus on other than the horrors of the previous night. He watched the numbers climb, a strange detachment settling over him. He was still a monster. He was still guilty. But now, there was also this… this bizarre, almost peaceful process of drawing life from the unlikeliest of sources.
After what felt like several hours, a more significant chime echoed in his mind, accompanied by a subtle, invigorating surge of energy that had nothing to do with the tree.
[Level Up! You are now Level 7!]
[All stats and ability slightly increased.]
“Level 7,” Jack breathed, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. It was a bitter, cynical smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Still a terrible, blood-soaked excuse for a sentient being, but now I’m a Level 7 terrible, blood-soaked excuse for a sentient being. With a ‘greater affinity for the natural world.’ Does that mean I get a discount at garden centers?”
He pressed his hand back to the root, a new determination hardening his gaze. If this worked, if this could truly sustain him…
The EXP continued to trickle in. `[+5 EXP]… [+5 EXP]…`
Another surge, stronger this time.
[Level Up! You are now Level 8!]
[All stats and ability slightly increased.]
“Seriously?” Jack snorted, though he could indeed feel a vague, expanded awareness of the intricate network of roots spreading out from the great tree around his burrow. “Am I grinding mobs here, or am I just evolving into the world’s creepiest, most emo dryad? This is the weirdest damn RPG I’ve ever been forced to play.” He imagined trying to explain his powers to a Demon Slayer. “Fear me, for I can tell you exactly where that dandelion’s taproot is!”
The process continued. The sun, he knew, was arcing across the sky far above, bathing the world in its lethal radiance. But down here, in his cool, dark refuge, pressed against the life-giving wood of the ancient tree, Jack was safe, and he was, bizarrely, growing stronger.
[Level Up! You are now Level 9!]
[Demonic aura slightly intensified. Minor increase in regeneration rate.]
“Level 9. My only friend is a tree I’m slowly… de-sapping. That doesn’t sound nearly as bad as exsanguinating, does it Woody? We’re practically symbiotic. You provide the delicious, life-sustaining solar energy, and I provide… well, company. And a running commentary of increasingly desperate jokes. It’s a win-win, mostly for me.”
The hours bled into one another, marked only by the steady accumulation of EXP and the occasional, significant chime of a level up. His guilt hadn’t vanished, not by a long shot. The faces of the family were still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind. But now, they were joined by this strange, persistent trickle of power, this fragile, growing hope.
Finally, as the light outside his burrow began to fade from the oppressive brightness of day to the softer hues of twilight – a shift he could sense with his demonic instincts, a lessening of the sun’s imminent threat – the System chimed one last time for this marathon session.
[Level Up! You are now Level 10!]
“Level 10,” Jack murmured, a weary satisfaction in his voice. “Double digits. Look at me, Ma, top of the… well, still probably bottom of the demonic food chain, but hey, it’s progress.” He slowly withdrew his hand from the root, flexing his fingers. They felt strong, imbued with a clean, vibrant energy that was worlds away from the frenetic, blood-fueled rage of the previous night.
As true dusk began to settle, painting the world outside in shades of purple and grey, Jack could feel the oppressive threat of the sun receding entirely. The primal instinct to hide lessened, replaced by a cautious urge to move, to breathe air that wasn’t thick with the scent of damp earth and his own fear.
He cautiously, carefully, crawled out of the narrow opening of his burrow, emerging into the twilight gloom of the forest. He stood, stretching his limbs, his muscles feeling strangely refreshed, invigorated. He took a deep breath of the cool evening air.
And then, the most astonishing realization hit him.
He wasn’t hungry.
The monstrous, clawing, all-consuming hunger that had driven him to commit unspeakable acts was… gone. Completely. He felt sated, as if he’d just eaten a full, nourishing meal. He felt no exhaustion, either, despite the emotional turmoil and the long, draining day spent in the cramped darkness. He felt… strangely balanced.
He looked back at the massive, ancient tree, its vast canopy a dark silhouette against the fading light of the evening sky. Its energy… it had sustained him. It had fed him.
A flicker of hope, so intense it was almost painful, ignited in the desolate landscape of his soul. If he could draw sustenance from plants, from the very energy of the earth and sun, then maybe… just maybe… he didn’t have to kill humans. Maybe there was another way.
The thought was tentative, fragile, like a newborn seedling pushing its way through hard, unforgiving soil. It didn’t erase the blood on his hands. It didn’t silence the screaming ghosts in his memory. But it offered a sliver, just a tiny, improbable sliver, of a different path forward. A path that didn’t inevitably lead to more slaughter, more guilt, more self-loathing.
“So,” he said softly, addressing the great tree, a wry, almost wondering tone in his voice. “I’m basically a solar-powered vampire who runs on tree juice instead of people? What is this, Demon Slayer: Eco-Friendly Hippie Edition?” He shook his head, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. “Is Muzan going to give me a special badge for sustainable undeath?”
But beneath the ingrained cynicism, beneath the reflexive, protective layer of sarcasm, the hope was real. It was a terrifying, audacious, almost unbearable hope. But it was there. And for the first time since waking up in this blood-soaked nightmare, Jack felt something other than pure, unadulterated despair. He felt a future, however slim, however dangerous, might just be possible.