Chapter 34: The Time of All Living Beings - To Be a Plant

The moment Elden crossed the door, the world disappeared.

There was no sound, no light, and no sensation of falling. For one fleeting instant, he felt as though his entire existence had been erased, leaving behind nothing but a consciousness suspended within an endless expanse of nothingness.

He tried to move, but nothing happened. He tried to breathe, only to discover that he had no lungs. He attempted to open his eyes, but there were no eyes to open.

And yet, somehow, he remained conscious.

What is this?

Before he could even begin to comprehend his situation, something changed. A faint sensation emerged from within the darkness. It was neither pain nor pleasure, but something subtler, as though a small fragment of his consciousness had suddenly become aware of the simple fact that it existed.

Then he felt warmth.

A moment later came pressure.

The earth pressed against him from every direction, surrounding him in a close, firm embrace. Then came water, seeping through the soil around him, carrying a faint mineral taste and a delicate sensation of moisture brushing against his surface.

For the first time, Elden became aware of his body.

It was incredibly small.

He could not move, see, or even distinguish one part of himself from another. His entire existence consisted of scattered sensations, connected to the surrounding earth by countless invisible threads.

He tried to gather his thoughts.

Where am I?

There was no answer.

What happened to my body?

Nothing.

He attempted to recall the events that had brought him here, summoning the memories of his teacher, his senior brother, and the wooden door he had stepped through. Yet those memories seemed strangely distant, as though they belonged to someone else entirely.

No.

They were his memories.

Of that, he was certain.

He was Elden.

He was...

A faint movement disturbed the darkness surrounding him.

Something within his body began to change. A small impulse stirred through his entire being, urging him toward the faint warmth above. He did not understand what it meant, nor could he question it in any meaningful way.

He simply followed it.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, something inside him began to grow.

And so, without realizing it, Elden began his first life.

He was a blade of grass.

At first, there was nothing remarkable about his existence.

He absorbed water and received warmth, gradually extending himself toward the light. His roots penetrated the soil in search of the nourishment he needed, while his slender body pushed upward toward the surface.

There was no language to describe what he experienced, no thoughts in the conventional sense, no logical reasoning, and no memories of a past he could consciously recognize as his own. His existence was instead shaped by the warmth of the sun, the coolness of the soil, the gentle pressure of the wind, and the gradual passage of time, so subtle that he could scarcely distinguish one moment from the next.

For Elden, a day was not something measured by sunrise and sunset. It was a succession of changes within his body, each blending into the next until the boundaries between individual moments disappeared.

He did not know that the sun rose in the east. He did not know that clouds drifted across the sky, or that birds sang among the branches of nearby trees. He knew only that the world around him changed, and that he changed along with it.

Then, one day, the rain stopped.

The soil gradually dried, and the moisture that had sustained him became increasingly scarce. The comforting warmth that had once encouraged his growth slowly transformed into something oppressive, its relentless intensity draining what little vitality remained within him.

His roots reached deeper into the earth.

They found nothing.

His body weakened, but he could not understand why. He had made no mistake. He had simply existed, absorbing what the world offered and growing according to the impulses that governed his life.

Now, however, something essential was disappearing.

The heat became unbearable. His leaves began to wilt, and his slender body bent toward the ground as the last traces of moisture vanished beneath the scorching sun. The familiar sensations that had accompanied his existence grew weaker, replaced by an unfamiliar distress he had no means of understanding.

Then, at last, the rain returned.

Water seeped into the soil, bringing with it the familiar sensation of relief. His body slowly recovered. His slender stalk straightened, and his leaves unfolded beneath the sunlight, once again reaching toward the warmth that sustained him.

Yet the drought had left its mark.

He was weaker than before.

Nevertheless, he continued to grow.

Days became weeks, and weeks became months. The seasons changed, and the earth around him alternated between abundance and scarcity. He endured each transformation without understanding its cause, responding to the world through the simple processes that sustained his existence.

He lived.

He endured.

And eventually, he died.

A massive animal passed through the field, its heavy foot descending upon the earth without warning. There was no opportunity to escape, no chance to resist, and no way for him to comprehend what was about to happen.

The pressure increased.

His fragile body was crushed against the soil.

And in that instant, his existence came to an end.

Elden opened his eyes.

Or rather, he thought he had.

He found himself standing in absolute darkness, his human body restored and his mind filled with memories that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. He stared at his hands, which trembled faintly before him.

What... was that?

He remembered the soil, the warmth, the rain, the drought, and finally, the crushing pressure that had ended his life. The memories were strangely vivid, yet he could not recall possessing a human mind during that existence. There had been no words, no conscious decisions, and no coherent understanding of the world around him.

And yet, he remembered everything.

Most painfully of all, he remembered the final moment before his death.

There had been no fear in the human sense. No thoughts about unfinished business, no desperate wish to survive, and no awareness that his life was about to end. There had simply been a sudden conclusion to everything he had ever known.

Elden drew a deep breath.

So this is the trial.

He had expected something terrible, but the first experience had been different from what he imagined. He had simply lived. He had grown, endured hardship, and eventually died, all without the ability to influence the circumstances that governed his existence.

When his life ended, there had been nothing he could do about it.

He closed his eyes.

If that was only one life...

He did not finish the thought.

The darkness around him began to tremble.

A new sensation emerged, this time accompanied by a deep, throbbing pain. Before he could gather himself, his consciousness was swept forward, and the world around him dissolved once more.

He was a tree.

A towering tree whose roots extended deep into the earth, spreading in every direction beneath the soil. His trunk rose high above the surrounding vegetation, while his branches stretched outward, bearing countless leaves that trembled whenever the wind passed through them.

Unlike the blade of grass he had been before, this existence was vast.

He could feel moisture deep within the soil, sense nutrients gradually moving through his roots, and perceive the subtle changes in temperature that accompanied the passing seasons. He felt the weight of snow accumulating on his branches, the pressure of insects crawling across his bark, and even the faint vibrations produced by animals moving across the earth around him.

And yet, he could not move.

He could not speak.

Nor, of course, could he flee from the place where he had taken root.

At first, Elden found this existence strangely peaceful. There was something almost comforting about his deep connection to the earth, about the way his roots held him firmly in place while the world changed around him. Time no longer seemed like a fleeting succession of isolated moments. Instead, it became something broader, a continuous process that unfolded around him and through his own growth.

The seasons came and went.

Spring brought rain and the emergence of fresh leaves. Summer filled his branches with sunlight, allowing him to grow stronger beneath the warmth. Autumn stripped him of his foliage, leaving his branches exposed to the cold. Winter covered the surrounding earth in frost and snow, forcing him to endure the weight of ice upon his limbs.

Then the cycle began again.

Years passed, followed by decades.

His trunk thickened, his roots reached deeper into the earth, and his branches spread farther outward. Birds built nests among his limbs, small animals sought shelter beneath his roots, and insects made their homes within the crevices of his bark. Without knowing their names or understanding their individual lives, he became part of the existence of countless other creatures.

He was a silent witness to the passage of time.

One winter, a small animal sought refuge among his branches, fleeing a violent snowstorm. It pressed itself against his trunk, trembling as the wind howled through the forest and snow swept between the trees.

Elden felt its warmth.

He felt its trembling.

Although he had no means of expressing concern, something within his existence seemed to respond to the creature's presence. His branches offered whatever shelter they could, shielding it from the worst of the wind and snow.

The storm continued for days.

When the skies finally cleared, the animal emerged from beneath his branches and disappeared into the forest.

Elden never saw it again.

Years later, two children came to play beneath his shade. They returned every summer, laughing and running around his trunk, sometimes sitting with their backs against him as they rested from their games. As they grew older, their visits became less frequent, until one day they stopped coming altogether.

Time continued to pass.

The forest changed around him. Some trees died, while others grew in their place. Animals appeared and disappeared, and the distant sounds of human activity gradually grew louder. Eventually, the familiar rustling of leaves was increasingly accompanied by the noise of axes and machinery.

Then, one day, men arrived.

They surveyed the forest, marked several trees, and began cutting them down.

Elden felt the first blow strike his trunk.

The impact sent a deep shock through his body, a vibration that traveled from his bark to his roots and spread throughout his entire existence.

Another blow followed.

Then another.

He could not understand the purpose of this violence.

For centuries, he had stood in the same place. He had endured storms, droughts, and winters. He had offered shelter to countless creatures, and the leaves he shed had enriched the soil beneath him, becoming part of the earth that sustained the surrounding forest.

Yet none of that seemed to matter.

The men continued cutting.

His trunk weakened.

Then came the final blow.

The world tilted.

His branches crashed against the surrounding trees, sending birds scattering into the sky. His enormous body struck the ground with tremendous force, shaking the soil that had embraced him for centuries.

For a brief moment, Elden could still feel the earth beneath his roots.

Then the sensations began to fade.

His body was severed from the soil that had sustained him. His leaves withered, his branches dried, and the familiar connection that had defined his existence gradually disappeared.

At last, the final traces of his life vanished.

When Elden returned to the darkness, he remained silent for a long time.

He had lived for centuries.

He had watched generations of creatures come and go, offering shelter, shade, and protection without ever consciously choosing to do so.

And in the end, he had been cut down.

There had been no reward for his patience, no recognition of the centuries he had endured, and no meaning bestowed upon his existence simply because he had survived for so long.

He had lived, and then he had died.

That was all.

Elden lowered his head.

For the first time since entering the trial, he began to understand why his teacher had described the process as becoming one with the world.

It was not simply a matter of learning how other creatures lived. It meant experiencing existence from perspectives so fundamentally different from his own that the assumptions he had always taken for granted no longer held true.

The tree had not measured its life through achievements. The blade of grass had not lamented its inability to become stronger. Neither had possessed the ambitions that drove human beings to struggle against their limitations.

They had simply existed according to their nature, each connected to the world in ways that humans rarely stopped to consider.

And despite their differences, their lives had been just as real as his own.

Before Elden could explore this thought any further, another life seized his consciousness.

His next existence was entirely different from the ones that had come before.

There was no sunlight warming his body directly, nor any wind carrying the fragrance of a forest. Instead, he found himself surrounded by water.

Endless water.

He seemed to be suspended beneath a vast expanse of blue, immersed in a world that moved to the rhythm of its currents. Sunlight filtered down from above, scattering into wavering patterns that danced across the seabed.

He tried to move.

He could not.

Or rather, he did not understand what movement meant in this form.

His body was slender, composed of long green leaves that swayed gently with the passing currents. Beneath him stretched a network of pale roots anchored in the sand, while his leaves extended toward the distant surface.

He was seagrass, a flowering plant that lived beneath the sea.

And so Elden began another life.

At first, the experience felt strangely familiar. Like the blade of grass he had once been, he absorbed the nutrients available to him and used sunlight to sustain his existence. His leaves moved with the surrounding water, bending whenever the currents strengthened and returning to their previous positions when the movement subsided.

Yet there was something fundamentally different about this world.

The water was never truly still.

Even when the sea appeared calm, gentle currents continued to flow around him, carrying dissolved substances, microscopic organisms, and tiny particles of sand. Sometimes the movement was so subtle that he scarcely noticed it. At other times, powerful waves disturbed the seabed, sending clouds of sediment swirling through the water.

He could feel changes in pressure.

He sensed temperatures rising and falling with the seasons.

He perceived the difference between clear water, through which sunlight reached the seabed, and the darkness that descended when sediment clouded his surroundings.

But unlike the creatures swimming around him, he could not flee when conditions worsened. He could not swim toward warmer waters during the winter or retreat into deeper darkness when the sunlight became too intense.

He remained where his roots had anchored him.

And so, he endured.

Day after day, sunlight reached his leaves, providing the energy he needed to survive. His roots remained embedded in the sediment, holding him in place against the currents while absorbing nutrients from the seabed.

Around him, other seagrass plants grew, forming an immense underwater meadow whose leaves swayed together in harmony with the movement of the water.

It was a strange world.

Viewed from above, the meadow might have appeared to be little more than a patch of vegetation beneath the sea. But from within it, Elden experienced an entire ecosystem.

Small fish swam between the leaves, while tiny crustaceans crawled across the seabed. Mollusks settled among the plants, and countless other creatures searched the meadow for food or shelter. The seagrass provided places to hide, feeding grounds, and protection from predators that hunted in the open water.

Without making any conscious decision, Elden had become part of something larger than himself.

His leaves offered shelter to small creatures. His roots helped stabilize the sediment. His very presence contributed to an underwater environment upon which countless lives depended.

He did not understand any of this in the way a human being would. He did not reflect upon the importance of his existence, nor did he consider the role he played in sustaining the surrounding ecosystem.

He simply grew.

And as he grew, his connection to the world around him deepened.

Time passed.

For Elden, time was no longer measured by the rising and setting of the sun. Beneath the water, the light above appeared and disappeared according to a rhythm he gradually came to recognize through the changes in his surroundings.

The seasons followed one another. The water warmed, then cooled. His leaves lengthened, withered, and eventually broke away to be carried off by the currents, while new growth emerged to replace them. His roots spread through the sediment and extended across the seabed, helping him remain anchored in place.

All around him, the meadow continued to expand.

Unlike the short-lived blade of grass he had once been, this existence possessed a remarkable degree of stability. Some seagrass plants could live for centuries, while certain ancient clonal meadows could persist for thousands of years.

Elden had no way of knowing how much time had passed. He knew only that the world around him continued to change while he remained.

A small fish that had once hidden among his leaves grew larger before eventually disappearing into the open water. A creature that had settled beside him during one season was gone by the next. New arrivals came to inhabit the meadow for a time, only to vanish again.

Some were eaten by predators.

Others died when conditions became unfavorable.

Still others simply moved elsewhere, leaving no obvious trace of the places they had once inhabited.

Elden witnessed their departures without understanding them in the way humans understood loss. He was not merely a plant surrounded by animals. He was a fixed point within a constantly changing world, connected to countless lives that crossed his path.

As a blade of grass, he had lived a brief life that ended beneath an animal's foot. As a tree, he had endured for centuries before being cut down by human hands.

But as seagrass, he experienced something different from a single, sudden destruction. He experienced the gradual unfolding of an entire world built upon countless interdependent relationships.

The movement of water affected the sediment. The sediment affected the light. The light influenced his growth, and his growth influenced the creatures that depended on the meadow. Those creatures, in turn, were connected to other living beings through relationships he could never have fully understood from a single perspective.

Nothing existed in complete isolation.

In the past, Elden had imagined the sea as an immense expanse of water, a habitat for fish and other creatures that swam freely through its depths. Now, he understood it differently.

The sea was not merely water.

It was a world of its own, filled with life sustained by delicate balances and relationships that had developed over immense stretches of time. The seagrass beneath its surface was not simply vegetation, either. It was shelter, habitat, and a living foundation upon which countless other organisms depended.

Yet the plants themselves did not understand their importance.

The seagrass known as “Elden” did not grow with the purpose of protecting fish , stabilize the seabed, or support the surrounding ecosystem. He had not chosen to become part of a greater whole.

He had simply lived according to his nature.

And through that existence, he had become part of something far greater than himself.

Elden remained.

His leaves continued to sway with the currents, his roots stayed buried in the sand, and the sea continued its ceaseless movement above him.

He survived another disturbance without knowing whether his survival was an achievement or merely something that had happened to him.

Years passed.

Perhaps decades.

Perhaps far longer.

He had no way to count them.

Then, one day, the water began to change.

The meadow around him underwent transformations so gradual that, at first, they seemed indistinguishable from the ordinary fluctuations of his existence. Yet the changes continued, slowly altering the environment that had sustained him for so long.

Another disturbance followed.

This time, it did not arrive as a storm.

Instead, the seabed shifted repeatedly as sediment was stirred into the water. The surrounding sea became murky with increasing frequency, and the sunlight that had once reached the meadow with relative ease grew progressively scarcer.

The conditions that had allowed him to thrive were changing in ways that made continued growth more difficult.

Some of the plants around him weakened.

Others began shedding their leaves.

Small patches of the meadow disappeared, exposing the sediment beneath them.

Elden remained anchored to the seabed, unable to flee from the gradual deterioration of the environment that sustained him. He could not search for a better place to grow. He could not ask why the water had changed, nor could he even understand that something had gone wrong.

Perhaps a storm had disturbed the seabed. Perhaps a battle between predators had altered the surrounding waters. He had no way of knowing.

He experienced only the consequences.

Less light.

Different currents.

Changing conditions.

His roots remained embedded in the sediment, and the surviving parts of his body continued to endure.

The meadow was not a single plant but an extensive network of individual shoots connected by underground rhizomes. Its survival depended on countless living sections, some flourishing while others weakened or died.

Elden experienced this persistence from within. The loss of one part did not necessarily mean the end of the whole. Life continued wherever conditions allowed it to do so, spreading through the surviving sections and enduring as long as enough of the network remained viable.

But persistence was not the same as invulnerability.

Eventually, the conditions around him deteriorated beyond what he could withstand.

His leaves weakened.

His growth slowed.

The familiar sensations that had accompanied his existence for so long gradually began to fade.

The currents still flowed through the meadow. Sunlight continued to filter down from the surface. The sea had not stopped moving, and the world around him had not ceased to exist.

But his body no longer responded to it as it once had.

Gradually, his life came to an end.

Elden returned to the darkness.

For a long time, he remained motionless, struggling to gather the scattered fragments of his consciousness.

Deepen Elden’s inner transformationReduce repetitive explanatory passages