This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

The Elven Royal Court Council.

Since there was temporarily no suitable candidate for an elven king, Queen Galadriel governed affairs in the capacity of a regent. In essence, this was a measure meant to stabilize public sentiment.

When it came to major matters, she did not possess the authority to decide unilaterally. As always, decisions were reached through discussion with the other elves in council.

A young elf dressed in light hunting garb casually twirled a vividly red, appetizing-looking mushroom between his fingers.

He swept his gaze across the chamber and spoke in a clear voice, “Right now, these tasty mushrooms can be found everywhere in the forest. Their yield far surpasses that of moon trees, which only bear fruit once every three years, and most importantly, they require no effort at all to tend! Our children can enjoy such delicious food every few days now. This is a gift from the forest itself. Why should we deal with them?”

His words drew nods of agreement from several similarly young councilors.

However, seated opposite him, an elderly druid clad in a dark brown robe adorned with fresh vines and withered seeds slowly shook his head.

“Then, young Eros,” the druid said, “while you enjoy this ‘gift,’ have you ever lowered your head to carefully observe the forest’s original skin beneath the mycelial carpet?”

He paused, without raising his voice, yet the entire chamber’s attention was already firmly drawn to him.

“Since the large-scale appearance of the mycelial carpet, moonlight moss, which relied on specific humus layers and weak light to grow, has completely vanished from the eastern woodland. Shadow plush moss, which prefers moisture and shuns light, has likewise not been seen again. And this is only the beginning. According to our continued observations, among the one hundred and twenty-seven species of low-growing plants that originally existed beneath the forest canopy, forty-three have already seen their numbers reduced by more than forty percent. This includes song fern, which provides shelter for the young of forest birds and beasts, as well as rootvein grass, which stabilizes magical energy in the soil.”

“But can’t the mycelial carpet replace their functions?” another elf spoke up, a representative of the more pragmatic artisan faction. “They decompose deadwood ten times faster than natural decay, are extremely efficient at clearing pests, and the mushrooms they produce can feed animals as well. Aside from the plants you mentioned, the forest would become even more lush!”

“And the cost?” the elderly druid countered. “Learn a bit more about nature, young one. The cost is that the forest becomes uniform. It is efficient and high-yield, but also singular and exclusionary. That is a dangerous sign.”

“Additionally,” the druid shifted his gaze toward Saryan, who sat to the side, “do you all know what the land beneath our feet looks like now?”

At his cue, Saryan rose to his feet, lifting both hands. A gentle pale-blue glow flowed from his fingertips, linking to the elven forest’s reconnaissance array.

In the next instant, a vast and exquisitely detailed three-dimensional magical projection unfolded in midair.

The upper layer of the image showed the familiar city in the trees. Upon closer inspection, one could even see elves strolling along the aerial walkways.

However, when all eyes followed the image downward, focusing on the deep soil beneath the massive tree roots, what they saw was an intricate, overlapping web of underground tunnels. Its complexity surpassed that of the tree city’s multilayered bridges by countless times.

“All of this was… dug out by puji?” one elf asked in disbelief.

“Obviously,” Saryan replied, lowering his hands as the projection stabilized and hovered in place. He then added objectively, “That said, there is no need to worry about collapses or soil loosening. Those puji reinforce the tunnel walls as they dig, and in some respects, they even enhance local ground stability.”

Even so, no elf was willing to have their homeland transformed into a sprawling labyrinth beneath their feet.

This undoubtedly posed a major security risk and could easily be exploited by those with ill intent.

The council’s discussion shifted toward how to effectively control the mycelial carpet, but it soon fell into a deadlock.

The carpet feared fire, yet was difficult to ignite. The forest was unsuitable for using fire to begin with, and the mycelium within the tunnels could not be dealt with by fire at all.

Druidic nature magic could handle the issue quite well. As long as the magical energy within the mycelial carpet was stimulated, it would erupt with a burst of mushrooms and then naturally wither.

But this was highly taxing and an enormous undertaking. Were the druids supposed to abandon all other duties and spend every day controlling the mycelial carpet?

Someone also mentioned Puji Number One, a member of the mushroom folk.

But Number One could at most manage the puji digging tunnels. The spread of the mycelial carpet itself was beyond its control.

Per the Mycelial Lord’s instructions, it neither supported nor opposed restricting the mycelial carpet, leaving the elves to handle it as they saw fit.

Lin Jun was not surprised by the elves’ reaction, and his reasoning was simple.

If the elves could not find a solution, they would have no choice but to accept it.

If they did find a solution, all the better. It would allow him to identify the mycelial carpet’s weaknesses and prepare countermeasures.

In fact, on the Kingdom’s western coast, the spread of the mycelial carpet really had been curbed.

The reason was simple: there were more slimes there.

After the mist receded, it left behind certain changes. One of them was an increase in ambient magical concentration, rising to a level where slimes could naturally form.

Coupled with the fact that the region had just undergone warfare and was sparsely populated, slimes that no one bothered to clear quickly multiplied.

They not only consumed the mycelial carpet on the surface, but also burrowed into the tunnels, eating everything clean along the way.

It was foreseeable that another war between puji and slimes was about to break out.

However, slime-based control was clearly unsuitable for the Elven Forest.

Those things were pure pests that decomposed everything indiscriminately.

Lin Jun’s mycelial carpet at least left some plants behind. If slimes grew too numerous, the result would be complete barrenness, with nothing left but slimes.

Of course, slimes themselves were not very strong. Under normal circumstances, unless deliberately bred, their numbers would not explode.

The western coast was a special case.

In the end, the council formally assigned the urgent task of devising a mycelial carpet control plan to the druid circles, hoping they could find a solution that balanced practicality and efficiency as soon as possible.

Yet when the two druids entrusted with this task left the chamber, the worry etched between their brows was deeper than when they had entered.

The difficulties they faced went far beyond technical issues.

It was not just that they did not know how to deal with the mycelial carpet at present. What worried them more was that internal divisions seemed to be emerging within the druid community.

Some druids had begun to view the mycelial carpet through an entirely new lens.

They believed that this lifeform, capable of highly efficient energy conversion and the construction of symbiotic networks, might represent another evolutionary path of nature itself, one worthy of deeper study and even acceptance.

This line of thought had even gained a measure of approval from some elder druids. Faintly, there were already signs of a new research circle forming.

They feared that if a proper way to handle the mycelial carpet could not be found in the short term, one that demonstrated the resilience and wisdom of the traditional path, then these dissenting voices would only grow louder.

The two druids exchanged a glance, both knowing that this was a task that could not be delayed.

…

Everyone else had adjourned, but Galadriel still could not retire to rest.

Internal affairs were discussed by the council, but when it came to diplomatic matters, she still represented the elves’ public face. She needed to show herself to the delegation and inform them of the official time for formal talks.

On a personal level, she was also somewhat curious about Inanna.

That a girl not yet twenty could earn the title of war hero, achieving such distinction at so young an age, even surpassing the Sword Saint’s fame at twenty.

At the very least, when Elvian had been twenty, there had been no tales of him at all within the Elven Forest.

The moment Galadriel entered the side hall where the delegation was resting, she saw Inanna’s bright pink hair, and then noticed the strange puji in her arms, adorned with four swords.

For some reason, in a setting where polite greetings should have begun immediately, her gaze could not tear itself away from that puji, which seemed a little… stiff.