In the depths of his newly developed maleficent arbormancy, Nico Paolo was mute, his voice bound to the whispers of the woods. Yet, his presence screamed with a force that shattered many a stillness.

He was the conductor of a new orchestra: the creaks, cracks, snapping, and exploding of wood! Branches flailed against villas, gashing shutters and doors as well as busting windows! Trunks broke into soaring shards! Roots erupted from the earth, ensnaring fences and gates before dragging them to chthonic depths!

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Bolzano's prized apple orchards, once verdant and thriving, now cowered before the traveling teen terrorist. To the south, in Chianti, he tore wooden trellises from practically sacred vineyards with a sweep of an arm, sending vintage grapevines tumbling to the ground, bruising millions of grapes! Farther South, in Sicily, he ripped wooden fences from animal farms, freeing livestock to flee in a frenzy!

The giovanotto's wood wizardry consumed him, recrafting him into a vessel for the forests’ wrath, his thoughts made dense by the wood's primal energy. Emotions numbed, he felt his identity snap and splinter like the xylem he controlled!