This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

After the reunion, Syrian brought out the explanation he had prepared long in advance.

In his account, he had relied on a hidden trump card taken from his homeland to barely deal with the enemies within the fog, though he himself had been gravely injured in the process.

After the fog receded, he found himself stranded farther away than expected, and by sheer bad luck, stumbled upon another group of demons.

With no choice, he fled in yet another direction. By the time he recovered enough to return, everyone from Gold Valley City had already evacuated.

After that, he searched for news of Veyra while heading toward Mordu, until recently, when he finally managed to learn Veyra’s whereabouts.

The twins were overjoyed to see Syrian again. Although Veyra felt a bit awkward, he was still genuinely happy as well. It was just that his occasional, subconscious backward step still left Syrian rather speechless.

Only Number Five was truly afraid. Whenever Syrian got close, it would automatically shrink into a trembling mushroom ball.

In the end, there was no choice but to let Fein carry Number Five on her head.

The viscount title bestowed upon Veyra by Duke Lorenzo was far from an empty honor. It came with real land attached.

Mistveil Hold was located on the northwestern edge of the kingdom, near the newly constructed defensive line. It encompassed several villages and a small stone fortress.

The territory was a basin region roughly equivalent in size to two standard baronies. The soil was not particularly fertile, but it contained a small vein of silver-calendar stone, making it a fairly decent holding.

As night deepened, the group bound for Mistveil Hold set up camp in a wind-sheltered spot by the roadside.

The campfire crackled, illuminating faces filled with differing emotions.

“It feels like a dream… We actually have our own territory now,” Fein said, hugging her knees by the fire. She stretched a finger out, tracing shapes in the air. “Our biggest dream before was just to save up enough money to rent a small shop in Mordu and sell potions or something. And now it’s an entire stretch of land, with villages and a castle!”

Phylline, however, was far less cheerful than her sister.

“What’s there to be happy about? A territory is just another burden,” she said dully, worry filling her eyes. “Given the current situation, when the demons come back in a few years, Veyra will probably be summoned by that duke to stand on the front lines. If you ask me, it’d be better to stay a free adventurer. This title looks more like responsibility being shoved down your throat by Duke Lorenzo, trying to tie you to the kingdom’s war chariot.”

By now, Veyra had already taken off the noble attire and changed back into his familiar leather armor.

Facing Phylline’s concern, he smiled. “Phylline, I understand what you’re worried about. But even without this title, we’re still human, aren’t we? The demon threat is something everyone faces. The future won’t be much different from before. It’s just a matter of doing what you can, with whatever strength you have. Let’s treat this title as an unexpected bonus.”

Phylline opened her mouth, wanting to say more, when a figure approached the campfire.

Considering Veyra’s lack of manpower and experience, Lorenzo had specially assigned a group to assist him during the early stages of governing his land. Leading them was an elderly steward with graying hair and impeccably precise manners.

He stepped forward and gave Veyra a slight bow. “Viscount, pardon the interruption. However, there are certain details regarding Mistveil Hold that I believe you should know in advance.”

“Please, go ahead, Mister Harold.”

Steward Harold cleared his throat. “The former lord of Mistveil Hold was Viscount Clement. During the last demonic incursion on the border, he failed in his duty to defend the land. Instead, under the pretext of diplomatic negotiations, he fled in haste to the Dwarven Mountain Kingdom, taking most of his wealth and confidants with him.”

Fein let out a small gasp, while Phylline showed a trace of disdain.

“After the war, when the situation eased, Viscount Clement seemed intent on returning to reclaim his territory,” Harold continued. “However, Duke Lorenzo has formally issued a warrant for his arrest on the charge of desertion in the face of the enemy, cutting off any hope of his return.”

Veyra nodded. He had no goodwill toward such a deserter either.

“However, his hasty flight caused a period of chaos within the territory. Many residents fled out of fear or due to lack of governance. Although some returned after the war, the population of Mistveil Hold is nearly forty percent lower than at its peak.”

Harold paused, glancing at the puji playing with Fein’s sleeve. His tone grew subtly complicated. “And with fewer people tending the land… according to recent records, within the territory—especially near the old forest and abandoned farmlands—the growth of various mushrooms has become… somewhat excessively lush.”

“Mushrooms?” Veyra raised an eyebrow, then shrugged indifferently. “Having more mushrooms isn’t a bad thing, is it? At least it means there won’t be famine. That’s better than barren weeds.”

Steward Harold looked at him deeply but offered no further explanation, merely bowing respectfully. “You are correct. In that case, please rest early. We still have travel ahead tomorrow, and once we arrive at Mistveil Hold, there will be many matters requiring your decision.”

With that, he withdrew.

Several days later, when Veyra and his group finally reached the border of Mistveil Hold and stood upon the land that now belonged to him, he instantly understood the steward’s meaningful glance and the true meaning of the phrase “excessively lush.”

This was nothing like the image he had imagined of a few mushrooms growing along the roadside.

The first thing to catch everyone’s attention was a distant hillside covered in an eerie blue “forest.”

They were not trees, but towering fluorescent mushroom trees over ten meters tall.

Thick stalks supported massive caps, from which strands of mycelium hung like curtains. The purple spores drifting from them, if Veyra remembered correctly, had hallucinogenic effects.

Closer to the road, the scenery grew even stranger—a forest of gray-white petrified mushrooms.

Veyra looked around, then up at the sky.

“This isn’t even a puji dungeon…”

Only then did Harold step forward again to explain.

“In fact, ever since mycelium began spreading across the land, such ecological changes have been ongoing.”

“Mushrooms do bring endless food and convenient puji, but they also come with side effects like these.”

“Cities and villages in the kingdom have relied on issued commissions or organized clearing to maintain surrounding areas. But as I mentioned earlier, the local nobility and many residents fled. With no one managing the land, the mushrooms grew into this state within just a few months.”

Hearing this, Veyra recalled that he had indeed seen similar mushroom-clearing quests at the guild before.

They were beginner-level tasks, so he hadn’t paid them much attention.

Only now did he realize the true implications.

After touring the territory, it was clear the situation was quite serious. Hallucinogenic spores and petrification were both dangerous to ordinary people. Although the residents did not lack food, their range of activity had been severely restricted.

The only area not overrun by mushrooms was around the castle itself.

Even there, judging by the traces on the ground, it was likely the result of a deliberate cleanup arranged by Duke Lorenzo not long ago.

“So many mushroom trees… how much manpower and time would it take to clear all this?” Phylline complained.

Harold suggested settling in first, and afterward Veyra could request additional support from the duke.

Just as everyone was worrying over the rampant mushrooms, Number Five—already aware that this would be its temporary home—nimbly hopped down from Fein’s head.

On a patch of mycelium outside the castle, it began performing a mysterious ritual dance.

As Number Five stretched and contracted, two still-growing mushroom trees were slowly broken down by the mycelium. In their place, a sturdy mushroom house sprouted up.

In less than ten minutes, a puji-sized mushroom house identical in style to those in the mushroom garden was complete.

Without hesitation, Number Five scurried inside, leaving only its mushroom cap poking out as it invited the stunned onlookers to tour its new home.

Fein was the first to run over, half her body slipping into the mushroom house.

Touching the soft, smooth mycelium bed, she exclaimed in disbelief, “You can even do something like this?!”