Elian didn’t consider using magical plant symbionts before, though there were many choices with various uses, because they take a long time to grow. Whatever he’d pick would still be weak come tournament time and fighting off the first Giants to show their ugly faces. He also had to care for the plant, buy nutrient solutions, give it Energy, and maybe worry about fungi and plant diseases. And the foremost reason plant symbionts hadn’t come close to being included in his plans was he’d need to plant it on himself—it was a symbiont after all.

He ate plants. Plants didn’t eat him. Supposedly.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“What was that, young man?” The fancy merchant cupped a hand on his ear. “This market be too loud. Vampiric Pods?”

“It’s a vine with pods the size of a fist,” Elian replied. “They explode and attach these fanged things on anything nearby and suck out Health to transfer to the host. I’m not an expert on Vampiric Pods, but I know the floramages have made symbionts of them.”

“Haven’t heard of it. That other thing you mentioned. Rejuvenating Roots, was it?”

“Yes. It creates roots to… well… root into the ground and absorb nutrients. Feeds the symbiont and the host. It’s good for healing.” This was Elian’s first choice because mature Rejuvenating Roots could quickly heal the host, matching an entire bottle of top-quality health potions. It might not be as handy as a potion that could be chugged during battle—the host needed to stop moving and take root—but he expected to survive with his tankiness and just heal afterward.

“I have heard of that,” the merchant slowly said, stroking his chin.

Meaning he doesn’t have it in his shop. “Do you know where I can buy the seed of a Rejuvenating Root? A Vampiric Pod works too. It’ll be more affordable. Or a Leech Reaper Bower. Not sure though if there’s a plant symbiont of that one.”

“I’m sorry, young man. I don’t think anyone here sells what you’re looking for. The plant symbionts available are for protecting oneself from the Tribulations. You know, because we’re in the Temples of Tribulation, not Temples of Healing. Why would you need even a symbiont like that? Worried about potion costs after a Tribulation? I have a friend who can give you a discount if you buy in bulk. Ten bottles, get one free.”

“Costs, uh, yes. Something like that,” Elian said.

That was just the tip of the reason. Thinking long term, having a sort of self-healing skill would prevent a whole lot of issues he faced in his previous life because of the Abyssal Eye’s Curse. He wouldn’t even need magical herbalism.

“See it this way, young man,” said the merchant. “It’s more economical if you protect yourself against the Tribulation so you’d have fewer to no injuries afterward, am I right? Prevention is better than cure—that’s what my mum used to say. Magistrate bless her soul.”

“I think I’ll try to see if I can find it first.”

“Come back here if you change your mind. I offer the best prices out of anyone else.”

“No, you don’t!” shouted someone hidden by the crowd.

Elian left as an argument among the vendors ensued. Many other stalls sold plant symbionts, but none had in stock what he was looking for. Just like the fancy merchant, they were confused as to why he didn’t want something like Living Armor or Barkskin.

“The Living Armor will protect you during the Tribulation,” said a merchant with a big necklace around his frail neck. “You following me so far? After the Tribulation, you heal your Living Armor with a nutrient solution. No need for health potions for you. I have a crate of nutrient solutions that just arrived from—”

“I’m sorry, but I’ll keep looking,” Elian said. “I’ll return later if I can’t find it.”

“Make sure that you do return. I offer the best prices—”

“You’re a liar!” a gruff voice interjected.

Elian was quick to find an exit through the stalls, wondering why the plant vendors were so aggressive. Night fell, the sun resting beyond the horizon, on his continuous fruitless search. The closest lead Elian found was a snappy grandmother who had direct contact with the floramagus unions, or so she claimed, offering to order a Rejuvenating Root seed for him. When Elian asked for the price, the number he got was several times the amount in his pouch.

“It’s a special order, sonny,” said the old lady. “Costs for the message, transporting just that specific seed, the distance. Closest floramages union warehouse is two weeks on groff wagon.”

“Thank you for your help,” Elian said with a bow. Getting it straight from the union would cost too much time and money. “I’ll keep looking. I’ll return—I mean, I’ll just keep looking.”

Elian searched the entire plant area of the marketplace, asking every stall. Vendors dubbed him the ‘crazy healing plants buyer’. He was proud of his persistence, though it may prove fruitless. He even visited other parts of Vigor Hill in the vain hope that a random plant vendor was tucked away in an obscure corner.

“Where else have I not visited?” Elian was back where he started, standing by the stall of the fancy merchant. He could list all the symbiont seeds within his budget and decide their pros and cons. If there was nothing, then… nothing.

The fancy merchant said, “Come to take a second look, young man?”

“Sure, yeah,” Elian said with a sigh. “What are—oh, hello?”

A hooded figure sidled next to him, standing a head taller. From inside the shadows of his hood, only his crooked nose and bushy beard revealed themselves to the light. The man’s robes were scruffy, though a closer look revealed an expensive make under the dirt and grime. “Perhaps I may be of assistance.”

“Get out of here, Gideon,” the fancy merchant said.

“I’m merely offering my help,” said Gideon in a soft and silky voice not matching his appearance.

“Don’t peddle your horrendous plants here.”

“How dare you call my creations horrendous!” A furious finger with a long nail pointed at the fancy merchant as Gideon drew his height even taller. His smooth voice became a growl. Then he turned to Elian, returning to his previous demeanor in a flash. “Come this way, sir. What I offer for sale at my carriage might interest you.”

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Following a hooded man to his carriage slotted in a space between a dilapidated pub with barred windows and a collapsed house might not seem to be a good idea. Their location at the end of an empty street, far from lantern balls, wasn’t great. But Elian had found gold in the oddest of places. Sometimes literal gold. He had a suspicion as to the man’s identity and figured this was his last chance of not returning to camp empty-handed.

The wagons of Borlen’s group were simple carts covered with canvas roofs. They must’ve spent most of their funds on the absorbing stones. Elian didn’t know how many stones they had recovered after the Tribulation of Penitent Tharguras. Gideon’s carriage was twice as big as Borlen’s wagon, with wooden walls and a roof. It looked more like a workshop on wheels than a standard carriage for well-off passengers.

“So… Floramage Gideon.” Elian stepped inside the carriage, wrinkling his nose at the cured meat, assortments of herbs, and sharp chemical smells. The space inside was large, packed with cabinets full of jars and other curiosities he wasn’t curious about. “What do you offer for sale?”

Gideon took off his hood. The lantern orb above, yellowish and dimming with age, caught the deep wrinkles on his pasty face. “How did you know I’m a floramage? Did they tell—no, I never told anyone. Was it because I said my plants are my creations?”

“That. And the conviction and hatred behind your words when your plants were insulted. Unregistered?” Elian asked, remembering the little he knew of floramages affairs.

“I prefer the term unshackled. Liberated. But, you’re right. Think of me as willfully unregistered. Knowing, or at least suspecting this, you still followed me?”

“That’s why I followed you. If my guess was wrong, if your carriage looked different than I expected, I would’ve run away with all my might and be at Energy Hill by now. Onto possible business then? I’m looking for—”

Floramage Gideon held up a freakishly long hand. “I’ve overheard from the others—you seek a plant symbiont that can heal you. Let me guess: potion allergy? You don’t have a Healer friend? A Curse?”

“The last one.”

“You also seek to protect yourself from the Tribulation. You would have considered buying a different plant symbiont if I hadn’t approached you. A Penitent, are you not?”

“I am,” Elian said. “Are you done building up your sales pitch?”

Gideon rolled up his loose sleeve to reveal a glowing green seed on his thin arm. The seed had sprouted tendrils that burrowed into his flesh. Elian’s cheek twitched knowing this would happen to him too if he used a plant symbiont. The floramage pointed at the seed that pulsed as if it were a beating heart. “This is my latest—”

“Hang on. What’s this one?” Elian pointed at another seed further up Gideon’s arm. “Meteoric meatballs, you have several symbionts feeding off you?”

“All for the pursuit of science, I offer myself as a test subject.”

“I have a feeling I know why you’re unregistered. Probably did some other offerings too.”

“Keep your feelings to yourself, my good sire. Where was I? Yes, this symbiont combines the effects of the Living Armor, Barkskin, and Rejuvenating Root.”

“A hybrid?” Elian peered closer at the symbiont. It's quite young to still have its seed casing. He had seen bigger ones on people, covering half their chest, tendrils creeping beneath the host’s skin.

“Not a hybrid.” Gideon wagged his creepy finger at Elian. “Combined effects, not that I combined the plants themselves. Those three are from different families. You can’t breed them willy-nilly, my dear customer.”

“Potential customer.”

“I extracted the desired essence from those three plants,” Gideon went on, ignoring Elian. “Then I surgically implanted them through astral means into the soul of a fourth plant. I’ll keep its identity a secret. And thus, I have created, after hundreds of failures, the Guardian Exactor Vine!”

Vines grew out of Gideon’s arm and coiled around it, completely covering it.

“The effects of the Living Armor,” Elian said.

“Not quite. For this layer of vines is not durable enough to block powerful Tribulations.” The green vines began to shrivel up and turn yellowish. Gideon knocked on it. “A combination of Barkskin and Living Armor. Instead of turning your skin into a defensive bark, you build this calcified layer of armor. The Guardian Exactor Vine is young, but this hardened cocoon of vines can block sword strikes. It will only grow stronger with age and the attributes it feeds upon.”

“What was that? Attributes?”

“And its last ability,” The calcified armor broke apart and fell to the ground. Another set of vines grew, thinner and of a darker color. They reached for a bottle on the table. With slight difficulty, the vines managed to open the bottle and dip their tips inside what Elian assumed to be a nutrient solution. “The trait of the Rejuvenating Root,” said Gideon with pride in his voice. “Can you ask for a more perfect creation for a Champion Penitent?”

“Probably not,” Elian said. “But I’m going to ask why you’re not famous if you’ve made such an awesome plant symbiont. You’re unregistered; that’s part of the reason, I suppose. You’ll still have many customers with under-the-table dealings.”

Gideon sniffed as he jutted out his chin. “People are yet to recognize my genius.”

“I am recognizing your genius. However, I also sense there’s a catch. What’s the downside of the Guardian Exactor Vine? It’s in the name, isn’t it? It doesn’t tap the host’s Health or Energy, but instead…”

“The attributes,” Gideon answered with a dramatic sigh. “The fourth plant, the crucible holding the essence of the other three, is a Revulsion Dread Sapper from Black Flint Valley the next region yonder. It will drain any prey trapped in its vines of all their attributes until they are too weak to escape the digestive—wait! Make no mistake, my creation does not kill the host.”

“It only drains attributes,” Elian pointedly said. His mind already worked in the background. He knew of the Revulsion Dread Sapper, making itself stronger from the attributes of its victims. There might be something to this.

“A fraction of the attributes to make itself stronger. Think of it as a Curse exacting payment for its benefits, hence the name.” Gideon fixed his sleeves and retrieved a box from the drawer. Inside looked like a seed of the Guardian Exactor Vine that hadn’t sprouted yet. “Try it for yourself, dear customer. Three days to sprout. A week or so to grow enough for use. Assess for yourself.”

“How much? My budget is tight.”

“The price of a basic Barkskin seed is what I ask. I should charge higher, but this is a new product not yet familiar to the market. You’ll help me market it through your usage as part of the payment.”

“How can I trust you that this seed is what you say it is? I prefer not getting scammed out of my hard-earned money.” Symbiote seedlings commanded a higher price because they had successfully germinated and the customer could confirm the plant species they were buying. Seeds were trickier and relied on the seller’s reputation. Vendors at the marketplace wouldn’t risk selling fake goods and ruining the future of their business for one measly sale. An unregistered floramagus hiding in a dark alley, on the other hand, could easily disappear the next day.

“I understand your reservations,” said Gideon. “I offer this solution: pay when you have confirmed the product. Receive the Guardian Exactor Vine seed and let it take root. I’ll cast a binding upon it, hindering its growth for two weeks. Enough time for you to test it. Come back, pay, and I’ll dispel the binding.”

“What if I run away and not pay you?”

Gideon bowed. “The risk I take. You don’t need to flee, dear customer. Simply tell me you find my creation unsatisfactory, and I’ll accept it as a business loss. However, I have full confidence in my product and my assessment of you as an honest man.” He unscrewed the cap of a bottle with purple liquid. The smell of rotten eggs filled the carriage.

“What’s that?” Elian asked, coughing. “Acid?”

“My own recipe. That fact you’re not looking for a symbiont to help your durability tells me I’ll need this acid to open a hole in your flesh. Do you accept the deal I offered?”

“You’re just looking for a test subject, am I right?” Elian presented his arm.