If there was one thing Michael had to credit for his successful return home, it would not be his strength of mana. Rather, it would be his instincts.

They had been honed over a decade in a world filled with death. Those instincts had saved him on many occasions from all sorts of dangers, both the avoidable and the unavoidable, both the conscious and the unconscious. In a kill, escape, hide, or be killed existence, power and skill decided the fates of the strong. However, instincts were the judge, jury, and executioner of the weak. And Michael had learned long ago how to trust his instincts and to throw his whole will into following them.

Thus, Michael felt severely uneasy as he threw 10 years of honed instincts to the wind and continued towards what they deemed to be certain death. Under any other circumstance, he would have considered himself insane for flying towards a Steward. Yet his father’s life was on the line…

He needed time. He wanted nothing more than to stop and think things through.

But his instincts and his supposed insanity both agreed on one thing.

There was no time. Stopping and thinking were the last thing he could do.

Action was the only answer. Evaluations, thoughts, and regrets could come after.

That did little to reassure his unease. And even less to reduce his self-loathing.

Because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that if he wanted even a small chance of surviving (let alone succeeding) in the end, he would need help. And that meant dragging millions of innocent lives to face the death trap with him.

He hated himself for it.

But he loved his father more.

“All who flower, bear your seeds! All who fly, carry what seeds you can and follow me! Spread the message far and wide!”

He sent the pulse as far as his mana could take it, and millions responded.

Grasses, bushes, and trees as far as he could see sacrificed months, if not years, of stored energy and potential to burst forth with seeds in a span of seconds.

Insects, bats, and birds all followed suit, latching onto what seeds they could find and carry in their claws, jaws, beaks, or bills and followed after him.

And in the background, he could hear an ongoing, receding whisper among all.

“The Steward calls for seeds! The Steward calls for them to be delivered by all who can fly! Spread the message!”

With each passing second, the skies all around Michael grew thicker and thicker with any animal that could fly.

Soon, he would be the head of a mega swarm that would blot out even the smoke in the skies.

It would be too obvious.

“Those who follow me, spread out! Throw your seeds across the inner city! And then go back for more seeds! Spread the message!”

After a moment of gazing towards the city of brick, asphalt, concrete, metal, and glass rising ahead of him, along with the diminishing number of trees to catapult him forward, he sent another pulse.

“Any who are strong enough to carry great loads, come to me! Spread the message!”

At his pulses, most of the swarm, at first having set a course straight for him, spread out through the skies, thinning out and blending in with the smoky backdrop. However, they all flew with a unified purpose and overall similar trajectory towards downtown.

However, not all flew away from Michael.

Michael catapulted from tree to tree several more times. Yet, as they grew sparse, he finally angled his wingsuit to slow down rather than to speed up towards the next one.

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“Grow leafy and soft. Catch me,” he pulsed to the tree.

The tree in question sprouted thick, new leafy growth, the leaves retaining a softness only found in the newest shoots of fresh greenery.

And then it was time for impact.

Michael braced himself.

But there was no need.

The tree caught him like a pile of leaves catching a falling kid in autumn. Easy. Soft. His momentum easily transferred through thousands of leaves and tens of branches, preventing injury.

Once he relaxed, Michael pulsed once again.

“Draw back your leaves on your highest branches. Grow the branches longer and make room for many.”

As Michael righted himself, the leaves around him receded, until the top half of the tree almost seemed naked and dead.

And then, Michael waited. But thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.

From all directions, those that hadn’t flown away from Michael began to arrive.

One by one, great birds of prey alighted on the naked branches all around him. Falcons, hawks, owls, eagles… they surrounded him and looked to him with piercing eyes, waiting for his command.

Michael grimaced as within a minute, only a little over two dozen had arrived.

There were certainly more on the horizon. In another few minutes, there would perhaps be a hundred. But as the earth quaked and the tree shook, he decided that it would have to be enough.

He sent out a pulse to his clothes.

“Grow a vine to each bird and grow a harness around it.”

All across his body, vines grew and snaked their way to all the seated birds, wrapping around them until they were fastened and secure.

Satisfied, Michael then pulsed to the birds of prey with a strong surge of energy.

“Strengthen!”

A series of screeches, cries, hoots, and whistles answered him as the birds all began to visibly grow in size.

“Bend and draw back,” he pulsed to the tree.

The tree bent towards the ground. As it creaked to a stop, so too did the birds finish their transformations, appearing larger and stronger than before.

“When we launch, carry me towards the tallest tower still standing,” he pulsed to them.

The birds braced their bodies.

“Launch!”

The tree whipped Michael and the birds into the air. They all flew upwards for several seconds.

Then gravity began to slow their rise.

“Fly!”

The birds unfurled their wings as one, beating them against the air.

As they began to reach the peak of their ascent, Michael unfurled his wingsuit, catching air as well. However, while the birds continued flying upwards, he began to glide downwards.

Michael held his breath as the vines attaching him to the birds stretched.

If the birds weren’t strong enough, he would have to send out even more energy, and against the Steward, every drop would be precious.

The vines grew taut.

Michael’s descent stopped. And then it turned into an ascent.

Michael sighed in relief as the empowered birds of prey gained speed and altitude, carrying Michael towards the tallest tower on the horizon, and by extension, closer to the epicenter of the disaster.

~

Gina and the Fortress heard the call at the same time.

“The Steward calls for seeds! The Steward calls for them to be delivered by all who can fly! Spread the message!”

“Michael!” Gina squeaked, spitting out a mouthful of lettuce.

“The Steward!” the Fortress boomed, stopping mid-growth of more said lettuce.

The Fortress rumbled, extending large branches from its roof, sprouting with a plethora of seeds.

“The Steward calls for seeds!” the Fortress boomed into the surroundings. “The Steward calls for them to be delivered by all who can fly! Spread the message! And draw to me if you can fly! I have many seeds!”

As the call spread away from the Fortress, and tens of birds and thousands of insects alighted on its branches to carry some seeds, Gina gave the floor a mighty thump.

“Michael needs me! Let me out!”

Gina could have sworn the Fortress creaked with displeasure.

“The Steward has given his commands, and we are following them, as we must.”

“No, we’re not! I can deliver the seeds! Let me follow the command!”

The Fortress paused.

“Can you fly, Precious One?”

“Of course I can!” Gina lied through her teeth. “Just let me out and you’ll see!”

The Fortress paused again, this time for a long moment. Gina’s ears perked up. Did the Fortress really believe…?

“No.”

Gina’s ears drooped.

“Though you can fly, the Steward’s original command takes precedence. Others will fly for the Steward. You shall stay here, protected, unless the Steward commands you to fly directly otherwise.”

Gina growled, and it took every fiber of her being to not leap towards the wall and try to tear it to pieces again.

“You stubborn piece of old wood! When Michael hears of how you’ve treated me, he’ll turn you into firewood!”

“If that is the will of the Steward, I would be honored to serve.”

Gina gnashed her teeth. And then she angrily sighed.

She needed to focus. She had a plan. She needed to stick with it.

So she threw herself back into vigorously devouring mouthfuls of lettuce.

“I need more lettuce!”

“For the Precious One, of course,” the Fortress replied eagerly, happy that Gina finally gave up her demands once more.

A new patch of lettuce grew, this one the most energy dense yet.

But Gina hardly noticed.

She single-mindedly focused on her one task at paw.

To eat the Fortress until it had nothing left to give.