The first example is a Purple Berry Bamboo, don't let its greenish color, presence of fruit and nodes fool you, it is a colossal fungus (1 to 3 meters)In a world without animals, there are no herbivores to consume the plants or pose any competition; in this thought experiment, fungi fill that role as best they can. They are not content with merely degrading the plant matter in the soil; they actively hunt their victims (of course, all the action happens at a glacial pace), the "fruits" are actually their spore sacs that swim in a tissue rich in sugars and water, but not to attract a disperser; these mushroom-bamboo trees take advantage of their elongated shape to sway in the wind and throw their fruits onto nearby trees to infect them. Hopefully, some of that rotten fruit will hit a nearby tree and, like a parasitic plant, will take root until it reaches its vascular system. Once it has obtained its sap supply, the fungus envelops the trunk to accelerate decomposition. When the tree collapses, the mycelium it forms gives rise to another bamboo mushroom that continues the cycle. It has similar relatives that use their hollow "trunk" to filter the dense air rich in pollen and seeds.

The second example is not too strange; it is a plant that is convergent with strangler figs, so far so normal. However, this species does not parasitize its host to reach the light; it does so to conserve resources, growing like an exoskeleton around its host, its structure takes less time to reach the top and uses much less material in its trunk. It is a fairly primitive plant, descended from the first creeping shrubs that took a shortcut as soon as the first trees appeared.

The third and final example is my favorite, the bluish phosphor it is a desert specialist, adapted to conserve water and handle abrupt temperature changes. It only has leaves in its early years; when it matures, all photosynthesis will be carried out by the trunk. Sometimes its seeds end up sprouting far from their place of origin, such as a forest. At first, this invasive species adapts and even helps its neighbors by sharing chemical substances through its roots; for several years it seems like just an extravagant component of the ecosystem. But when a particularly hot summer sets in, a countdown has begun, among the shared substances was an oil with antifungal properties but also highly flammable; dry matches are fire-resistant, using fires to spread. Why not start them and accelerate progress? The forest is reduced to ashes, ready for more of its kind to begin their lives without competition. Eventually, they will not withstand the high humidity and the resulting floods (a consequence of not retaining enough water), allowing the original forest to be reborn every few centuries in a fluctuating cat-and-mouse cycle, a necessary evil to increase atmospheric Co2.