This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

War clouds hung over Redstone City.

At dusk, Nova stood atop the wall and could see smoke rising from the demon encampment in the distance.

On the other side, a long line of people fleeing the city stretched away.

Even if the detachment was only a portion of the demon forces, Earthpeak Fort—renowned as easy to defend and hard to take—hadn’t held for two days. No one expected Redstone City to have a better fate.

Nova felt the same unease.

“Found out.” A lazy voice came from the shadows. Night Owl had appeared at the wall corner without him noticing, stretching her lithe body without much grace. “The one leading them is Cenophen—the pig-headed duke.”

“Cenophen!” At the name, Nova’s eyes brightened slightly.

“Hey, hey, you’re not still clinging to that decapitation plan, are you?” Night Owl raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a Sanctum level opponent—that’s a duke! Are you trying to be like the old man and shove magic crystals into your head until it breaks?”

“I’m perfectly lucid.” Nova stood and walked the battlement pace by pace. “If it were any other duke I’d back down. But Cenophen is different… he was grievously wounded by the Sword Saint and surely hasn’t fully healed. The Core’s most powerful effect is to amplify injuries into life loss. If it hits, we have a high chance to cripple him—or even… kill him!”

His tone grew excited. “And from what I know, Cenophen is notoriously reckless. If we bait him by appearing weak, he’ll likely bite!”

Night Owl didn’t buy it. “Your assumptions are too many. What if his wound has healed? What if he doesn’t take the bait? What if the branch can’t kill him?”

“Then,” Nova stopped and spoke calmly, “only you among us will likely escape alive.”

“Why go that far?” Night Owl’s voice carried incomprehension. “We can stage a token strike and withdraw amid the chaos. That’ll save face for the kingdom. Is it worth risking lives?”

“This is a gamble!” Nova turned to his companions, eyes ablaze. “If it succeeds, we become the United Kingdom’s unquestioned heroes—fame, fortune, power! If the kingdom survives this war, we will possess everything! You’ve always wanted to set up those strange trap-law things; become a landed noble and you can do whatever you want on your own domain. I bet you’d mess it up in your own way.”

Night Owl sneered but offered no rebuttal.

Nova inhaled deeply. “Besides, Gal, Ivan, and I don’t want to see the kingdom crushed by the Empire. That future would be tragic.”

Night Owl stared at Nova for a long moment, then unexpectedly reached out.

“What now?”

“The branch. I’m a Shadowwalker—ideal for ambushes. Also I’m an elf and long-lived; your forehead already has white hair. If you use the Core at full force you’ll probably croak. Let me do it.”

Nova knew she spoke the truth. He smiled wryly, took the Core from his bosom, and placed it solemnly into Night Owl’s hand. “Remember, if a single strike fails, run with it immediately. Never use it repeatedly… that’ll kill you.”

“I’m not trying to die.”

Clang—

A sudden noise made both of them tense. They quickly located its source: a spear had fallen to the ground.

“Who left their spear lying around?” Nova frowned and stepped forward, thinking wind had toppled it.

Night Owl said nothing; her gaze swept the surroundings in a flash.

The next instant she slipped like a fish into the wall’s shadow.

In only a few breaths she leapt out from the shadow at Nova’s feet, a black dagger in hand. A likewise black, illusory worm-like bug dangled from the blade as she slammed it into the stone wall.

The creature writhed soundlessly a few times, then died, its body decomposing and dispersing at a speed visible to the eye—leaving no trace.

“What is that?” Nova’s face hardened; he had not detected it before.

Night Owl looked uncertain too. “Never seen one, but it hides in shadows—must be a demon trick.”

Nova nodded and hurried down the wall to rearrange patrols.

…

The sun sank. The demon camp outside Redstone City, however, remained noisy.

“Arghhh—!” a snake-man writhed on the ground, half his tail gone, yet no one spared him a glance.

Not far off, a circle of demon soldiers raised torches and closed in. In the firelight a black thing darted and dodged, trying to avoid the flame.

“Close the ring! Don’t let it escape!”

“Shrink the circle! Shrink the circle!”

“It’s coming out… it’s coming out!”

The shadow-bug leapt skyward and was pierced by a lizardman’s arrow. Cheers rang out briefly, but a howl from elsewhere cut the celebration short and the troops were ordered to stamp out the next disturbance.

Similar chaos erupted across the camp.

In the central tent, Duke Cenophen’s sword wound in his abdomen throbbed; the racket outside prevented him from resting. He flung the tent flap open, ready to berate someone, but sensed something amiss overhead.

A battle-axe flashed through the air and burst a balloon-like creature.

Its death released a nauseating stench that clung to the tent.

“Enough with these cheap tricks!” the axe slammed onto the ground.

An advisor with more experience on such things stepped forward. “My lord, these seem to be Abyssal summons.”

“Abyssal? Like Vilaris’s Abyssal beast?”

“Yes, but far weaker—probably a pack of low-grade warlocks causing trouble.”

Cenophen snorted. “Humans preach against Abyssal magic, but in death’s face they turn to it. If they’re summoning, find those warlocks and chop them to feed the goblins!”

The advisor lowered his head uncomfortably. “We’ve sent searches, but… they’re well hidden.”

“A group of warlocks, and none can be found…” Cenophen glared at his subordinate and snorted coldly.

Then a thought struck him. “They’re just trying to delay us. Issue orders—no matter how tired, at dawn tomorrow the whole army attacks Redstone City!”

He turned and left the tent, ignoring the camp’s continuing commotion.

…

Meanwhile, hidden within layers of anti-detection magical arrays, Aiden sat looking like he’d overindulged in mana potions. At his side, a Puji was busy yanking summoned creatures out of an abyssal ritual—getting a bit irritable.

“Stop summoning shadow worms and stench bugs,” the Puji grumbled. “After over eighty rounds I’m exhausted. How about something better?!”