As night starts to fall, it's hard not to notice it. The growing mycelium. Mushrooms popping up between cracks in the sidewalk, strange fungi crawling up buildings. But most importantly, the spores. The uncontrolled spores wafting through the air.
It all seems to be comeing from one point...
+The Catalyst is light on his feet, hopping over mushrooms in the cracks as if it was a game of hopscotch. He follows the roots spreading along buildings, tracing his sculked hand over them with a curious smile.+
+He ends up near the origin, tilting his head when he sees them.+