This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

The scout puji bounced rapidly through the forest, tentacles swinging as it casually sliced two overconfident slimes cleanly in half midair.

Lin Jun was honestly impressed by the sheer number of slimes in this region.

Left unchecked, they’d probably chew the entire forest bald in three or four months.

He still didn’t know whether the surge in ambient mana caused by the mist was a temporary phenomenon or a permanent change, but at least for now, there was no sign of it subsiding.

As for the mist itself, it remained a complete mystery. To this day, Lin Jun had yet to figure out the rules behind its steady advance and sudden retreat.

As a reconnaissance-specialized puji, the scout was extremely fast. Despite starting farther away, it arrived first.

The puji landed steadily on a thick horizontal branch. Below, a freshly blasted crater marked the ground, surrounded by scorched wood fragments and bits of twisted metal.

This was… a blasting arrow?

It wasn’t that Lin Jun was unusually perceptive—he was simply very familiar with the item. Blasting arrows were a common adventurer consumable.

But aside from the blast crater, there were no other signs of combat. A single blasting arrow detonated here on its own was suspicious.

Multiple perception skills cycled rapidly, and discoveries followed immediately.

Farther away, a succubus was sneaking off in a furtive retreat.

Closer in, a mixed group of humans and demons was cautiously advancing toward the blast site. They were already very close and would arrive any moment.

And right in front of it…

The scout puji lifted its mushroom cap slightly.

On another lush, leafy branch not far away, a dark-green slime almost perfectly blended into the surroundings, quietly lurking among the shadows of leaves.

The critical point was this: Lin Jun’s initial Mana Perception had completely failed to detect its existence.

Only after switching to the more physically oriented Soundwave Detection did its outline finally emerge.

And its status panel was anything but ordinary:

[State: Familiar]

This tag only appeared on individuals controlled by the Familiar Control ability.

Just like this scout puji itself, which also bore that same status.

A colleague.

At this moment, the other two groups no longer mattered. In Lin Jun’s field of vision, only that slime existed.

Puji and slime faced each other across branches.

The wind stilled. The forest fell silent.

The scout puji lowered its tentacles slightly, shifting its center of gravity.

Across from it, faint ripples spread across the dark-green slime’s surface as it quietly gathered strength.

A dead leaf broke free from its branch, spinning lazily as it drifted down into the gap between them.

The instant the leaf’s tip touched the ground—

The slime’s body compressed, stored power exploding outward as it transformed its entire mass into a dark-green arrow, slamming viciously toward the puji.

No feints. No detours. Just a direct killing charge.

Foolish.

The slime was fast, but Lin Jun reacted in time.

A mushroom cannon, already primed, fired instantly, blasting toward the airborne target that couldn’t change direction.

Yet the expected spray of slime never came.

Midair, the dark-green slime stretched itself into a hollow tube, letting the mushroom cannon shot pass cleanly through the center.

Everything happened in a blink.

The puji recoiled using the cannon’s recoil force, but it was still half a beat too slow. One corner of its rounded mushroom cap was shattered by the high-speed pass, fungal fragments flying.

In the first exchange, the scout puji was actually at a disadvantage.

The damaged area of its cap was quickly stained dark green, clearly poisoned by the slime’s corrosive fluids.

Fortunately, puji were largely immune to most toxins.

Lin Jun didn’t pause. A tentacle blade lashed out, cleaving straight toward the slime’s core.

The slime responded in kind, its liquid body splitting into several viscous tentacles to meet the attack head-on.

When the nine cultists drawn by the explosion hurriedly arrived, they were greeted by a scene completely beyond their understanding.

Two “supreme beings” were battling from the treetops down into the forest clearing. Wherever they passed, vegetation was silently severed by sharp force, shattered by mana cannon blasts, or rapidly blackened and withered by splashing dark-green poison.

“Slimes… and puji?”

The cultist squad leader rubbed his eyes, almost unable to believe the absurd sight before him.

That massive explosion earlier was caused by these two… low-tier monsters?

Puji aside—recent events had already forced people to rethink their view of them—but what was going on with that slime?

Had all the bottom-tier monsters lined up to rebel now?

Rip!

A severed dark-green liquid tentacle flew over and smashed into a tree trunk beside the cultists, splashing thick poisonous droplets.

The leader dodged in time, but another cultist behind him wasn’t so lucky. Several drops splashed straight into his wide-open eyes.

“My eyes! Burning! It burns—!!!”

The man screamed and collapsed, clutching his face. The others had no time to help, because the two monsters, fully engaged, were already fighting closer and closer.

A mushroom cannon shot narrowly missed the slime and instead slammed into the unfortunate cultist, ending his suffering.

Facing the deadly clash between two clearly abnormal monsters, the cultists initially had no intention of interfering—even losing a companion was acceptable.

But the battlefield kept shifting, and inevitably dragged these uninvolved bystanders into the chaos, turning everything into a melee.

…

The noise of the chaotic battle and surging mana waves drew Mengya back, even though she had already retreated far away.

She cautiously poked out half her head, staring at the forest that had devolved into total chaos, utterly dumbfounded.

She’d only triggered a single blasting arrow… how had things turned out like this?

Then she noticed a cultist who seemed to have an injured arm. Taking advantage of the chaos, he scrambled away from the fight, abandoning his companions and fleeing into the forest in a direction slightly off from the church.

Clearly someone with weak resolve.

Mengya’s eyes flicked back and forth. After a moment’s hesitation, she quietly followed him.

…

Meanwhile, inside the abandoned church.

The church’s structure wasn’t complex, but it was spacious.

Veyra and Fein hid in the shadows near a wall, while Phylline lightly leapt up onto a beam and moved ahead.

Veyra kept Fein pressed into the shadow behind a thick stone pillar, both holding their breath.

Phylline, like a feline, moved silently along the crisscrossing broken beams and vaulted shadows above, finally settling on a ledge overlooking the main hall below.

The church’s former altar area had been completely remodeled. A massive, intricate circular magic array had been carved into the floor, its grooves dark and filled with magical materials.

Seven or eight humans were tightly bound and placed along the edge of the array like livestock awaiting slaughter. Most were unconscious or semi-conscious.

Phylline’s gaze swept quickly over them, soon spotting Anton.

The adventurer captain who had once helped them lay there with eyes shut tight, face pale, chest faintly rising. He seemed alive, but clearly in bad shape.

Closer to the wall’s shadows, she also saw a goblin.

Perhaps because the cultists felt a mere goblin posed no threat, they hadn’t even bothered to knock it unconscious.

As a result, it was the only sacrifice fully awake—and the most terrified.

Something appeared to be stuffed in its mouth as it writhed anxiously, eyes bulging in fear as it stared toward the center of the array.

A filthy rag was jammed tightly between its teeth, allowing only muffled whimpers as it stared wide-eyed at the figure in priestly robes.

The officiating priest wore a pale blue and white ceremonial robe. The fabric was soft, the cut simple yet dignified—completely unlike the black-robed cultists around her.

Her hood hung half-lowered, revealing a gentle profile and jawline.

In the flickering firelight, her expression was calm, even carrying a compassionate air of mercy toward all living beings.

Anyone unfamiliar with the vestments of the Church of Light might even mistake her for a legitimate cleric serving the Light.

At this moment, she slightly lowered her head, slender hands folded gracefully before her as she softly chanted a prayer.

When the final syllable fell, she lifted her gaze, eyes passing through mottled shadows to settle precisely on the direction where Veyra and the others were hiding.

Her voice remained gentle.

“Lost travelers, there is no need to hide. The Goddess refuses no child who suffers in this mortal world. Come out. There is still room in the ritual.”

If Lin Jun were here, he would recognize her—the cult priestess Ginny, whom he had once encountered, the one who had sacrificed nearly an entire adventurer team.

A year had passed.

She had now reached Diamond rank.