Gray fog descends and civilization collapses.
I'm not a hero, just an ordinary person trying to survive.
Until vines started growing out of my right arm, until I discovered that this disaster was a "horticultural experiment" by higher civilizations—they called us "weeds to be pruned."
All right.
Then let them see how the weeds grow into a forest that pierces the sky.
——This is a story about falling, taking root and rebirth.
New author writing a book for the first time
