The next group was the Woodpecker Hall. Four of its members stood composed, awaiting John's instructions.
"Since the parrots all had fire-based abilities, doesn't that mean the woodpeckers might lean toward metallic or golden elemental skills?" John mused aloud, his mind racing with possibilities. "And if that's the case, the sparrows could have water-based elemental magic. Anyway, let's see this through."
With a cheerful wave and a grin, he signaled, "Carry on."
The woodpeckers stepped forward, demonstrating their abilities one at a time.
As expected, metallic nature prevailed. Each woodpecker displayed powerful combat-oriented or defensive skills—sharp-edged talons, hardened beaks, and even shimmering metallic wings. Their precision and power impressed John. However, one woodpecker remained.
"What about you?" John asked, his curiosity piqued.
The final woodpecker hesitated, its feathers ruffling nervously. It stood still as if struggling to awaken its skill. Seconds stretched into minutes, and just as John began to doubt its potential, something unexpected happened.
The air shifted. The cavern floor trembled.
A small green sprout burst forth from the rocky ground beneath the woodpecker. It grew at an alarming speed, twisting and climbing toward the cavern ceiling.
"What the—" John's words cut off as the sprout transformed into an enormous tree, expanding in every direction. Its thick roots sprawled across the floor, curling and cracking the stone. Vines stretched outward, creeping along the walls, while massive branches reached skyward as if trying to escape the cavern itself.
The flock erupted into chaos. Birds chirped frantically, taking to the air in a panicked flurry.
"Stop this madness!" Bubble screeched. "It's going to destroy our cavern!"
The woodpecker flapped its wings, frantic. "I… I don't know how to stop it!"
John observed the chaos with calm amusement, leaning back against his throne.
He scratched his chin thoughtfully, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.
"Even better," John said, his voice slicing through the chaos with practiced calm.
"What are you all waiting for? Get rid of that tree before it turns this place into a jungle. Think of it as your first teamwork challenge."
Bubble hung back, flapping lazily. "Trees. I love trees," it chirped, a note of mockery in its tone. "Sorry, Master, but my skill has no business with a magical treant. Still, since it's your order, I'll step in if it gets that bad."
John arched a brow but smirked. Bubble's assessment wasn't wrong. Its water bubble spell would be useless here—at least for now.
The sparrows darted forward next, launching sharp water bullets. Each shot hit the trunk with a wet thunk before dribbling away uselessly. The bark of the tree was unyielding, thicker than any normal wood. After several attempts, the sparrows retreated, frustration etched into their flustered movements.
Then came the parrots, their fiery resolve unmistakable. "Let's show them how it's done!" one parrot squawked, emboldening the others.
With synchronized precision, they unleashed fireballs into the dense branches, igniting leaves and creepers in bursts of orange flame. Smoke curled through the cavern as the fire began to spread.
"It's working!" the parrots cheered, reveling in their success.
Bubble's scathing voice cut their celebration short. "You feathered dimwits! Stop this nonsense!" it snapped, flapping its wings irritably. "Can't you see the tree's still growing? And what about the smoke? Are you planning to choke us all to death?"
Without waiting for a response, Bubble spat a massive water bubble high into the air. The bubble exploded into a heavy downpour, extinguishing the flames and leaving the cavern damp and steaming.
"Ugh! This is infuriating," Bubble growled, turning its sharp gaze toward Blackie. "You birdbrains, especially you, Blackie! Aren't you in charge of handling situations like this? Do something about your little brother before this spell destroys everything!"
Blackie shuffled awkwardly, its metallic feathers bristling. "What do you expect me to do? I don't have a clue how to stop it!"
"Just knock it out!" Bubble snapped.
Blackie puffed up indignantly. "Not my style."
Bubble rolled its eyes dramatically. "Ugh, useless! Fine, I'll do it myself."
With a sharp spit, it fired a water bullet straight at the frantic woodpecker responsible for the spell.
The woodpecker chirped in alarm, flapping helplessly. "I'm trying! I'm trying! I don't know how to stop it!" it cried, its voice laced with panic. Resigned, it closed its eyes, bracing for impact.
But before the water bullet could strike, something extraordinary happened.
A branch shot out from the tree like a living arm, intercepting the attack. The wood splintered upon impact, fragments scattering like shrapnel across the cavern.
John leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with fascination. "Oh? Now this is interesting."
The tree trembled, its overgrown roots curling deeper into the cavern floor. It wasn't just out of control—it was instinctively protecting its caster.
"Even though it's berserk, it's defending its master…" John murmured, a sly grin spreading across his face. "This isn't just a skill—it's a treasure."
He leaned back on his throne, his gaze fixed on the towering tree with an almost predatory gleam. "Good. Very good. I need this spell."
Bubble, however, was far from satisfied with its previous attempt. A glint of irritation flashed in its eyes as it spat out hundreds upon hundreds of watery orbs, which floated momentarily before hurtling toward the woodpecker like a relentless barrage.
"Let's see if you can block all of these," Bubble sneered.
The tree reacted instantly, its massive branches weaving and twisting, forming a thick shield around the woodpecker. The watery orbs struck with explosive force, each impact sending splinters of wood flying like shrapnel.
The cavern echoed with the sound of splintering wood, and the air grew thick with fragments and tension. Bubble's frustration reached a boiling point.
"Oh, so you can block," it hissed, doubling down. "Fine! Let's see how long you last!" It launched another, fiercer wave, its attacks growing more erratic and furious.
John's voice boomed, cutting through the chaos. "Enough!"
Bubble froze mid-spit, startled by the authority in his tone.
"If this is all you've got, then I'm deeply disappointed," John said, rising slowly from his throne. His sharp gaze swept over the scene, taking in the chaotic mess of splinters, smoke, and frenzied birds. With a calm confidence, he added, "Stand down, all of you."
As the flock reluctantly retreated, John stepped forward, rolling his shoulders as if loosening up. "Watch and learn," he said, his voice low but commanding. "This is how you contain something dangerous."
He began to chant, his words resonating through the cavern like an ancient hymn. With a sudden shout, he roared, "Iron Feather!"
A shimmering feather, forged from pure energy, materialized in his palm. It grew, elongating into a sharp, gleaming sword.
Without hesitation, John sprinted forward, his movements a blur. In an instant, he was at the heart of the chaos. A single, clean strike severed the massive tree into countless blocks of wood.
The birds stared, stunned by his speed. One moment he was at his throne; the next, he stood at the entrance of the cave, his iron feather blade glinting in the dim light.
"I'm not done yet," he said, his tone casual yet filled with an air of finality.
This time, he invoked a spell from Bubble's spell book. Water droplets gathered in the air, coalescing into thousands of water bubbles. They darted through the cavern, catching each piece of the severed tree in a delicate, floating suspension.
The once-monstrous tree, now reduced to countless wooden blocks, hung motionless in the bubbles.
With a sharp breath, John's focus shifted to the woodpecker. He moved with fluid precision, plucking the trembling bird from the chaos and tossing it gently out of the cave.
He exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing as he muttered a final incantation. The remaining roots, still clinging stubbornly to the cavern floor, crumbled into dust and vanished.
The cavern fell silent, save for the soft patter of water droplets.
John turned back to the flock, his gaze steady and authoritative. "That," he said firmly, "is how you control a situation."
He scanned the cavern, his expression softening as he took in the damage left behind. Deep gouges marred the walls, the floor was littered with splinters, and charred patches still bore the remnants of the fire spell.
"Oh, my poor cavern," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'll need to fix this mess first."
With a sigh, he shifted back into his bird form, feathers ruffling as he assessed the transformation. "Hmm, so the forced transformation after my daily limit lasts for nearly six minutes," he noted with a chirp. "Good to know."
He turned to the flock, his sharp gaze silencing any lingering chatter. "What are you all waiting for? The problem's still out there. Deal with it, and make it fast," he commanded, his chirps carrying the weight of leadership.
As the birds prepared to fly out, he added, "Oh, and one more thing—don't let that woodpecker back inside the cavern unless it's mastered its spell. Understand? Now go!"
The flock took off in a rush, their wings filling the cavern with a flurry of sound as they exited into the open air.
John let out a long sigh, the cavern now eerily quiet. "Ah, what a day," he murmured, fluttering up to perch on his throne. "I could use a good nap... but first, these holes need fixing."
He glanced at the scattered wood and remnants of the treant, a small smirk forming on his beak. "Good thing I've got all I need right here," he chirped, already formulating a plan to restore his cavern to its former glory.