Chapter 25 – The Cult of the Potted Plant

Club recruitment day turned the main courtyard into organized chaos.

Banners hung from every available surface, each more colorful and desperate than the last. Students swarmed between tables, recruiters shouting over each other about benefits and prestige. The Combat Club had set up a literal arena demonstration, complete with explosions and someone screaming about honor. Alfred watched a guy get thrown through a paper screen.

(Yeah, that’s gonna be a hard pass.)

He scanned the courtyard, looking for something quiet. Something normal. His eyes landed on a small table in the corner, barely decorated. A hand-painted sign read “Gardening Club” in shaky letters. A girl with mousy brown hair sat behind it, hunched over like she was trying to disappear into her chair.

(Perfect. Plants don’t yell or challenge people to duels.)

Alfred approached the table.

The girl looked up and immediately went pale. Her eyes widened to an almost comical degree. The clipboard in her hands started shaking.

“Hi, I’d like to join the Gardening Club.”

Alfred smiled, trying to look friendly and approachable.

The girl stared at him like he’d just announced the apocalypse.

(Why does everyone do that? I literally just said hi.)

“I… you… the Gardening Club?”

Her voice came out as a squeak.

“You want to join our club?”

“Yeah, if that’s cool. I like plants. They’re chill.”

(And they don’t run away screaming, which is a nice change of pace.)

The girl’s hands trembled so badly the clipboard clattered onto the table. She looked around desperately, possibly searching for an escape route or witnesses. Finding neither, she slowly pushed the sign-up sheet toward him.

“O-of course. We would be… honored.”

(Honored? He’s going to destroy us from within. This is it. This is how the Gardening Club dies. Mother was right, I should’ve joined the Knitting Circle.)

Alfred picked up the pen and signed his name. His handwriting was surprisingly neat despite his intimidating presence.

“Cool. When’s the first meeting?”

“Tomorrow. After classes. In greenhouse three.”

Each word seemed to cost her physical effort.

“The small one. Behind the main building. Very small. Very… contained.”

(Maybe if it’s small enough, the destruction will be localized. Please let it be localized.)

“Awesome. I’m Alfred, by the way.”

He extended his hand.

The girl stared at it like it might bite her. After a long pause, she reached out with a trembling hand. Her grip was limp, clammy.

“L-Lily. I’m the club president.”

“Nice to meet you, Lily. See you tomorrow.”

Alfred waved and walked off, already feeling better about his choice.

(Finally joined a club. Mom’s gonna be so proud. Maybe I’ll actually make some friends here.)

Lily watched him go, then immediately pulled out her phone with shaking fingers. She texted the other three club members.

“EMERGENCY. NIGHTSHADE JOINED. MEETING TONIGHT. BRING WILLS.”

The next afternoon, Alfred arrived at greenhouse three carrying a small bag.

The greenhouse was indeed tiny, barely big enough for ten people. Glass panels caught the late sun, filling the space with warm golden light. Rows of pots lined wooden benches, most holding small herbs and flowers. The air smelled like earth and growing things.

(This is nice. Peaceful. No one trying to duel me or pledge eternal service.)

Four students stood in a nervous cluster near the back. Lily was front and center, flanked by two boys and another girl. They all straightened when Alfred entered, like soldiers at attention.

“Hey everyone.”

Alfred set his bag down on an empty bench.

“What are we growing today?”

Lily clutched a small seed packet like a holy relic.

“W-we were going to work on our spring planting. Basic flowers. Completely harmless flowers. Nothing dangerous or unusual.”

(Please just want to grow daisies. Please just want normal, safe daisies.)

Alfred perked up.

“I actually brought some seeds my grandma gave me. She said they’re really hardy. Want to try those instead?”

He pulled a small cloth pouch from his bag.

The club members exchanged terrified glances.

(Seeds from the Nightshade family garden. Oh gods. Oh no. We’re all going to die.)

“That sounds… lovely.”

Lily’s smile looked like it physically hurt.

Alfred grabbed an empty pot and filled it with soil. His movements were careful, almost gentle. He made a small divot in the center and dropped in a single dark seed. It looked ordinary enough, about the size of a pumpkin seed but darker.

“Okay little buddy, let’s see you grow.”

He patted the soil affectionately.

(Grow strong, little buddy. Make Grandma proud.)

Lily clutched her chest.

(He whispered to the earth! He commanded the soil to yield an abomination! The ritual has begun!)

Alfred reached for the watering can sitting on the bench. What he didn’t know was that Luna had swapped the regular water for high-grade mana water three hours ago. The kind of concentrated magical liquid that normally required permits and supervision. The kind that could accelerate plant growth by several thousand percent.

He poured a generous amount onto the soil.

The effect was immediate.

The soil bubbled. Steam rose in thin wisps. The entire pot began to glow with a faint green light. Roots burst through the drainage holes, writhing like tentacles. The seed sprouted, then grew, then exploded upward in a surge of aggressive vegetation.

“Whoa!”

Alfred jumped back.

The plant didn’t stop. It grew from sprout to sapling to full size in under ten seconds. The pot cracked, then shattered, scattering ceramic shards across the floor. The plant settled at roughly the size of a large dog, its bulbous head swaying on a thick stalk. It was a carnivorous flytrap, but supersized and wrong. Rows of translucent teeth lined its massive maw. Its leaves were deep purple, veined with black. And when it opened its mouth—

“Woof!”

The plant barked. Actually barked. Like a dog with a sore throat.

(Oh that’s adorable. It sounds like a puppy.)

Alfred stepped closer, reaching out to pet it.

“Aww, you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

The flytrap’s head swiveled toward his hand. Its mouth opened wide, revealing those crystalline teeth. It lunged, jaws snapping shut around Alfred’s forearm with enough force to shatter bone.

The teeth hit his skin and shattered like glass.

The plant made a confused whimpering sound, backing away. Shards of broken teeth scattered across the floor. Its head drooped, leaves curling inward like a scolded puppy. It made a low, mournful sound.

Alfred frowned, concerned.

“Oh no, did you hurt yourself? Come here, let me see.”

He reached out again, slower this time. The plant hesitated, then cautiously leaned into his touch. Alfred scratched behind what might generously be called its ear, a cluster of smaller leaves near the base of its head. The plant’s entire body vibrated, making a sound somewhere between a purr and rustling leaves.

“There we go. You’re just a big softie, aren’t you?”

The flytrap nuzzled against his chest, nearly knocking him over with enthusiasm.

(He’s like a weird plant dog. I wonder if he needs walkies. Can plants go for walks?)

Behind him, the Gardening Club stood frozen in absolute terror.

One of the boys, a lanky kid with glasses, spoke first.

“He… he tamed the Beast of the Green Hell with a single touch.”

His voice was barely a whisper.

Lily nodded slowly, eyes glazed with shock.

“He is the Druid of Death. The legends were true.”

The other girl pulled out her phone, fingers flying over the screen.

“I’m texting my mom that I love her.”

“Put that away!”

Lily hissed.

“We can’t show fear. We have to… we have to act normal.”

(If we’re lucky, he’ll spare us when the plants take over. If we’re very lucky.)

The greenhouse door slammed open.

Elizabeth stood in the doorway, backlit by the afternoon sun, her black-dyed hair wild around her shoulders. Her notebook was already open, pen moving frantically. She took in the scene with manic glee.

“My lord! You’ve begun the biological warfare phase!”

She rushed forward, circling the massive flytrap with reverent awe.

“Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent. The Beast of Devouring. The first soldier in your green army.”

Alfred looked up from petting Chompy.

“Oh hey Elizabeth. Yeah, he grew way bigger than expected. Pretty cool though, right?”

“Cool doesn’t begin to describe it.”

Elizabeth pulled signs from her bag. Actual printed signs that read “Do Not Touch – Royal Property” in official-looking script. She began placing them around the plant’s new territory.

(She prepared signs in advance. Of course she did.)

She turned to the terrified Gardening Club members.

“You should feel honored. Your club has been chosen as the cultivation ground for Lord Alfred’s ecosystem conquest. Each of you will learn to grow these magnificent creatures. Together, we will create an army of botanical warriors that will reshape the very foundation of this kingdom’s agriculture.”

Lily’s knees gave out. She caught herself on a bench.

“Ecosystem… conquest?”

“Precisely.”

Elizabeth’s smile was beatific.

“Imagine it. Forests of these creatures, loyal only to Lord Alfred. The kingdom’s food supply under his complete control. Elegant. Efficient. Inevitable.”

The club members looked at each other, then at Alfred, then at the plant currently trying to eat his shoelaces.

“We… we pledge ourselves to this mission.”

Lily’s voice had taken on a dreamlike quality, like she’d accepted her fate.

“We will grow a forest of monsters for you, Lord Alfred. Whatever you need. However many you need.”

The other three nodded vigorously, dropping to their knees.

“The Gardening Club serves the Nightshade!”

One of the boys declared with surprising fervor.

Alfred blinked, thoroughly confused by the sudden shift.

“Uh, you don’t have to kneel. I just wanted to grow some plants with you guys. Make friends, you know?”

(Why is everyone kneeling? It’s just a plant. A really big, weird plant, but still.)

He looked down at the flytrap, which had successfully caught his shoelace and was gnawing on it contentedly.

“I think I’ll name him Chompy. He seems friendly.”

Lily’s eyes went distant.

(Chompy. The Devourer of Souls. A fitting name. A terrible, perfect name.)

“A beautiful choice, my lord.”

Alfred smiled, genuinely happy.

“Thanks! So should we plant more? I’ve got like six more seeds.”

The color drained from everyone’s faces simultaneously.

“M-more?”

Lily stammered.

“Perhaps we should start with mastering the care of this one first. Study its needs. Learn its… temperament.”

(Buy ourselves time to prepare our affairs and say goodbye to loved ones.)

“That makes sense. Chompy’s probably enough excitement for one day anyway.”

Alfred patted the plant’s head one more time.

(Finally, some friends who like plants! This club’s gonna be great. I can feel it.)

Luna materialized on top of Chompy’s bulbous head, invisible to everyone except the plant itself. She leaned down, whispering directly into what might be the creature’s consciousness.

“Listen up, sprout. Your job is to protect Alfred. Follow him. Guard him. Be the goodest boy. And maybe look extra threatening to anyone who gets too close. Think you can do that?”

Chompy’s leaves perked up. A spark of genuine awareness flickered in its alien intelligence. It barked once, firmly, in acknowledgment.

“Good boy.”

Luna patted it, then vanished.

As the club meeting wrapped up, Alfred helped clean up the broken pot shards. The other members kept their distance, whispering among themselves about optimal growing conditions for apocalypse plants. Elizabeth had cornered Lily, explaining in intense detail her vision for the “Green Conquest.”

Alfred looked at Chompy, who had curled up near his feet like an oversized, carnivorous puppy.

(Best club decision ever. I wonder if I can bring him to the dorm. He seems house-trained. Sort of.)

Outside the greenhouse, word had already begun to spread.

By dinner, half the school knew that Alfred had created a monster plant that could bite through steel. By bedtime, the rumors had evolved to include an entire army of them. By morning, the Gardening Club’s recruitment applications had somehow increased by three hundred percent, all from students hoping to survive the coming botanical uprising by being useful to the Druid of Death.

Alfred slept peacefully, dreaming of a garden where nothing tried to duel him and everyone just wanted to grow vegetables.

Chompy stood guard at the foot of his bed, leaves rustling softly, ready to protect his master from any threat.

Luna watched from the windowsill, grinning into the night.

(This world is my playground, and Alfred is the perfect chaos agent. I should probably feel bad about this. Probably.)

She didn’t feel bad at all.