When one is creating a plan for their own eventual possible destruction, it is best to plan for the worst. To that end I have decided to enlist the aid of another.

I stare down my branches slowly drifting in Air at the single priest of the Cult of Wood from the Vespar Leaf.

When I requested someone, my expectations were a bit different.

As one of the primary churches in Vespar’s Leaf, and Durant’s Leaf as well for that matter, the Cult of Wood is primarily made up of females.

There are several reasons, mostly Dryad’s fault, for this.

Male priests are rare, and usually, extremely eccentric.

The example of a man before me covered in every shade of pink imaginable, is a prime example of this.

“Name?” I ask, it is the first word I’ve spoken to the person since I expended effort to pull him out of the Vespar Leaf.

He startles from his kneeling bow on the floor, and pink garments flutter as he salutes me, “My name, Oh Great One, is Briget Marcus Avenflower!”

“So, Marc, what exactly made you the first pick of the Pope to send?” I ask. This is really the main question I want an answer too. Depending on whether I like it or not, I may need to fix the current Cult of Wood.

“I am a [Scribe], Lord of the Wood. I am currently at level three hundred and forty-nine in my Job.”

Since I have no facial features my shock is completely invisible.

[Scribe] is a rare class that basically boils down to mages that can make [Books], and not just collections of words or pictures mind you. A correctly made [Book] can even move beyond merely being read, and [Teach] or [Mentor] the reader.

And that’s at level 150.

Have those using my Chaos System really advanced so far and so fast in such a short time? Interesting. Very interesting.

“Excellent. I need some work done, and thus require a servant skilled in the power of [Scribe]. However, first, I need to ask, are you sure you wish to do this? I cannot promise you anything Marc, other than what you do will aid me.” I state calmly.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Anything for the Lord of Wood!” Marc says, his eyes glowing with fervor.

Ah, fanatics are scary sometimes. Useful, but scary.

“There might be horrific mind destroying sights, or otherworldly beauties that could shatter your soul. This is your chance to back out, past this point, you probably will never sleep well again.” I say. It’s not like I’m against pink or anything. It just confuses me how there are so many shades of the damn color on a single person at once.

“Without wood there is no fire, without fire there is no light, and without light, all mankind is doomed to the darkness!” Marc says, his voice booming out as he recites something from memory.

I knew I should have paid more attention to what they were doing in my name, oh well, whatever.

“In that case.” I say, as my roots rise up from around us. “Try not to scream too much after this.”

My roots strike forward at speeds faster than sound.

When I was working on Neferti it was an experiment since my skill with vampires was minimal. Humans, though, have long been easily handled. I cut my first roots on humans, sharpened my first Runes on humans, and in the time since, my skills have only grown.

Flesh is delicately flayed from bone until only a skeleton with organs surrounded in Air remains. Carefully I start my work from within, bones are marked in runes as the organs are given their own reinforcement. Regeneration, Immortality, Speed, Raised Intellect, Rapid Mind, Multiply Task, and more.

Scribe at three hundred and forty-nine is good, yet I need better.

I need someone who can write in Chaos. At least enough to help me create what needs to be done. What he does with his life afterwards is up to him. Some of my runes will fade over time, yet others are permanent, and without a time limit. Immortality for instance isn’t bad to have, but Raised Intellect is one step from madness if left on a mortal without end. I normally wouldn’t care, however, technically he’s one of mine right?

With that in mind I won’t leave him in a ditch scribbling Runes from insanity that might warp reality. Besides, they could be pink runes! Best to ensure that madness doesn’t occur.

It’s not because I fear what might happen if I leave someone who loves pink so much to their own devices with Chaos runes.

Honest.

When I finish, I mend the broken flesh and cloth him in green. Lime green, but green nonetheless. I feel as if had I used a normal color, I might somehow be violating a principle of the universe. Strange feeling, yet one I decided to follow on a whim.

Slapping the poor mortal awake, I am met with an amusing sight.

“GREEN?!” Marc says, as he tugs at his new attire.

“A much better color, yes?” I say, keeping the sadistic glee out of my voice.

I mean, who in the Seven Deadly Weeds comes to an interview with me wearing pink of all colors.

Serves the bastard right to be decorated in a horrifying eye melting mind destroying lime green!

It’s not like I’m taking revenge.

I’m not the kind of Tree that takes revenge at petty insults.

Only colored ones.

Now that the color is much more acceptable, it’s time to get down to business.

First, I lay out what I’m expecting in broad strokes. I need a book that can teach the Chaos System. It has to be able to subvert other Systems, and it has to be self-aware. The self-awareness is so that it can be taught that freeing me is its highest priority. It will also minimize the chance of problems cropping up that cannot be dealt with. Free will is always better in my own opinion when it is covered by enlightened self-interest. Since I know the approximate amount of time, I also know how much charge to put in the [Book]. Without renewing the charge, eventually the book will die.

No creature desires death, unless they are insane.

What?

Did anyone really think I was going to trust my fate to some random person?

Not a chance.

My [Book] will be a blessing for me, and a curse for whoever gains it.

One does not simply pick up the power of Chaos without a price.

I will ensure that whoever gains my Chaos System does not have the luxury of choosing to free me.

What is that saying again? Freedom or death, right?