Dazed in the darkness, Spriggan slowly came to consciousness, nothing recognizable as he pried his eyes open; the air was almost too stuffy to breathe through his bloodied nose and mouth.

  Despite the debris all around him, Spriggan still tried to crawl forward, an incredibly sharp pain coming from his arm as he tried to pull himself forward; the vine that supported him was gone after he awoke.

  Noticing it now, his right arm was unresponsive, and though he couldn't see it, Spriggan was sure his arm had been horribly broken from the intense agony, his voice breaking weakly as he cried out—the pained noises drowned out by the suffocating debris.

  He couldn't let that stop him. Spriggan, trying to pull himself even an inch from his position, pulled with his one arm, a pool of blood coming from something forcefully embedded into his lower right side as he dragged himself onward.

  The heat coursing around the penetrated flesh, another battered cry escaping him, the deep cut stung worse than Spriggan could tolerate.

  And though sweat and blood dripped from his face as he wailed painfully into the darkness, Spriggan burrowed through an opening he barely fit through, the walls of rubble cutting against the burns littered on him.

  His seared skin tore open from the sharp friction; the suffocating heat only agitated the irritated, burnt skin further.

  Spriggan came to a stop, his body shaking uncontrollably from the pain and exhaustion, tears running down his face, his cries remaining unheard beneath the warehouse's' suppressing remains.

  Unable to move forward, Spriggan felt his breathing become shallow, while his heavy body weakened with each passing second. Spriggan finally realized he would die down here, no matter how much he struggled.

  Well... he thought to himself in what appeared to be his final moments. That's all right; only a few people will even notice I've gone missing… His fingers grew cold as he seemingly accepted his fate. And… I tried to do good while I could, even if it wasn't as impactful as I wanted, but surely it meant something to someone, somewhere, in the end.

  Though... I do wish I got to spend more time with Rose, Spriggan frowned as visions of her pretty face, each feature more perfect than the last, and her adorable, lovable personality ran through his mind. If only I got to spend a few more months with her.

  So, helpless in his seemingly hopeless situation, Spriggan, with the feeling of his life slipping away with each breath, gave up, his eyes remaining tearfully open until the final moment of darkness.

  …

  But before he lost consciousness, something caught the corner of his vision—a fleeting trail of black aura, Spriggan assumed, was his own.

  Though Spriggan knew, Intent's Confession couldn't pick up on his own emotions.

  No, it can't be… The lights were on when they crashed in. A realization settled upon him as he remembered. Someone else must be stuck down here.

  But what can I do in this state? He thought, as he fought against the peaceful embrace he felt.

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  Come on, I can't worry about that! Through a pained sob, Spriggan, on a shaky arm, lifted himself through the burns, breaks, and pain that weighed him down.

  Think about all the people who'd miss this person. Spriggan took a deep breath, despite the sharp pain he felt in the back of his lung—a barely noticeable light, fluttering sensation fell on his wounded cheek.

  Think about the lives they've impacted. Digging through gravel and concrete, Spriggan, in pursuit of the thread of aura, tunneled through a tight space; a newfound energy, despite his injuries, drove him forward as his focus grew more alive.

  Think about all they'd accomplish. With another desperate battle-cry, Spriggan reached out and dragged his body onward again, and again, and again, until his trembling hand grabbed onto wet clothing. Spriggan quickly recognized it as the source of fear.

  "It'll be alright," Spriggan, sounding higher-pitched and less imposing, spoke to reassure both the worker and himself.

  "W-what!? Who are you? How will it be alright?" the worker pleaded, desperate panic slipping into his tone.

  "I'll get us out, just don't worry," Spriggan said with feigned confidence. "I promise I'll get you out of here!" And with that declaration, a silence came over his fellow survivor; now, Spriggan just needed to figure out how exactly he'd make it happen.

  "A-alright." Maybe it was Spriggan's confidence, or just the fact that his presence meant someone else was in it with him, and though his body shook, he seemed calm.

  While Spriggan didn't yet have a plan, he crawled onward with the worker behind him, thinking of everything he could do without any of his seeds, vines, or something for his life magic to channel.

  "Come on, this way," Spriggan pried a piece of debris from their path with a tired groan as he guided the worker through the suffocating, pitch-black tunnel. His functioning hand sliced open on something sharp as they crawled, but he couldn't stop, not now that someone else's life was on the line.

  Only just managing to slip through a crack, Spriggan aimlessly crept onward, hopeful they'd make it out somehow if he kept them moving. His bloodied hand grazed a soft, leafy plant of some sort from a crack in the flooring.

  Running his fingers over the tiny plant, hope invigorated Spriggan. Though his injuries throbbed with every movement, he dug deep and strenuously pulled on whatever fumes of mana he could, for a willful push of his invisible energy traveling through its body to an extensive network of roots.

  Spriggan roughly panted while continuously driving the mana he somehow still had to use, past this one plant that defied the odds and grew in this harsh environment. Spriggan's touch of life magic spread through the roots.

  The collection of life hidden beneath the surface is knotted together into a bigger arm, much stronger than one of these small plants could be alone. It climbed through the crack in the flooring.

  With magically enhanced strength, the plant's body lifted the debris above them. Everything around them shifted and creaked as the leafy weave of stems kept the rubble from collapsing on them, a small platform around Spriggan rising with the cleared path.

  Unable to speak through the strenuous focus, Spriggan could feel the person beside him. The two of them rose through multiple layers of broken metal, concrete, and rebar as a beacon of light broke through the destruction, with a flow of fresh, breathable air as an opening formed.

  Though relieved, Spriggan couldn't relax yet; his control was faltering despite his willful demands, his eyes sealing shut as he, truly for the first time in his life, tried to completely empty his reserves—an emptying that left the body in a vulnerable position to sickness and injury, a dangerous practice.

  Just a little more, Spriggan resolved in his mind as he committed to draining himself.

  After the short struggle, which felt like an eternity to Spriggan, the collection of plants broke through the top layer, the two of them rising above the hill of rubble as the moon shone on them.

  Barely able to pry his eyes open, Spriggan, noticing his shorter, ruffled brown hair, stood tall even though his broken arm hung loosely, a rebar stabbed through his torso, and blood caked him from head to toe, realized he'd reverted to Baron at some point.

  Gripping his functioning fist, Baron victoriously roared outward, his cracked, battered voice carrying through the night, while the young, similarly aged worker fell to his knees in tears–a blue butterfly flying away from his cheek as he celebrated their survival.