This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

“Absurd!”

A male elf in a deep green robe was the first to break the silence. His silver-white brows trembled with anger. “Lunarshade is the sword of the Elf King. How could we possibly hand it over to an outsider like you?”

A female elf with golden leaf pauldrons sneered as well.

“The Sword Saint really has an impressive reputation. Sends a disciple, says one sentence, and we’re supposed to obediently offer up the late king’s blade?”

The other elves didn’t speak, but only because they couldn’t be bothered. There was no scenario in which Lunarshade would be lent out.

“Master was ambushed by a blood clan prince. He is gravely wounded, and the blood poison is impossible to purge. Only Lunarshade’s power can cleanse it!” Fifteen lifted his head, gazing toward the seated figure on the throne. “If my master dies and Three Mountains City falls, the demon host will march straight through. The kingdom will be reduced to ash. Is that truly the future you all wish to see?”

The threat of the demon army…

The elves exchanged uneasy looks. The voices of opposition gradually softened.

No one noticed that, at the moment Fifteen mentioned the Sword Saint’s wounds, Galadriel’s movements froze ever so slightly.

A younger elf frowned. “How does this human even know Lunarshade’s capability? Hasn’t the king avoided showing that sword to outsiders for hundreds of years?”

A more experienced elf leaned close and whispered, “Long ago, that human swordsman came here to train. The previous king found him somewhat talented and taught him personally, even allowed him to spar with Lady Galadriel. He likely learned about Lunarshade then.”

“But back then he wasn’t a Sword Saint, right? Why did they even let him into the forest?”

“They say he happened to save Lady Galadriel’s life. At that time, those two were…”

Galadriel’s shadowed gaze slid toward them. Both elves immediately lowered their heads, breath held, and their whispering died instantly.

Meanwhile, debate still raged across the hall.

After a brief lull, more objections rose.

“It’s just blood poison. There are countless antidotes. Why insist on borrowing Lunarshade? Such an excuse is far too contrived.”

Indeed, blood poison was lethal for commoners or adventurers, but the Sword Saint couldn’t possibly lack a fifty-gold antitoxin. And the Church had purification rituals—complicated, perhaps, but workable.

But Fifteen explained, “That blood clan prince’s poison isn’t ordinary. Those methods can only suppress it—they cannot remove it! If it could be cleansed so easily, why would he bother using such poison in an ambush? If there were any other option, how could I possibly leave the battlefield right now to beg for the sword?”

The Sword Saint had brought Fifteen to an elf negotiation once before. Whether Fifteen had grown smarter was unclear, but his eloquence had definitely improved.

Even so, opposition remained.

After all, this was the relic of the previous Elf King. In Galadriel’s hand, it carried a certain meaning of inheritance. Lending it so casually to a human was hard to swallow.

Even if everything Fifteen said was true—what if the Sword Saint simply never returned it?

Or worse—what if he died? And Lunarshade fell into demon hands?

Thus, even those who weren’t against the idea chose silence instead of support.

Galadriel’s gaze slid around the hall and stopped on Eko, who was teasing the puji on his head with one finger.

“Captain of the Guard, what do you think of the Sword Saint’s matter?”

Eko didn’t even lift his head. “I’ve already stepped down as Captain. And I said I wouldn’t involve myself in these affairs.”

“Since you brought him here,” Galadriel insisted, “I want to hear your opinion.”

Eko narrowed his eyes, staring at Galadriel for quite some time—long enough for her composure to waver—before finally speaking lazily:

“It’s just a sword. Having it doesn’t make the city safer, lacking it doesn’t make it more dangerous. Lending it or not lending it—it’s all the same.”

Galadriel nodded, faint gratitude flashing in her eyes. She then turned to solicit Saryan’s opinion.

As the overseer of the forest’s surveillance array, Saryan’s words carried some weight now.

After a moment’s thought, Saryan replied seriously, “I believe we should lend it. If humanity is utterly destroyed, the result will be disastrous for us as well. Even if the demons take several years to digest human territory, that amount of time is a blink for us. The threat is immediate. I understand why many oppose intervening directly in the war, but where we can offer help, we should.”

Galadriel nodded with satisfaction—exactly the answer she expected.

She raised her hand lightly. “In that case, it’s decided. The sword will be lent.”

Having made her decision, Galadriel did not linger. Under the doubtful gazes of the other elves, she left in a hurry.

Saryan handed Lunarshade to Fifteen.

Fifteen sensed nothing strange about the atmosphere. He only felt relieved that borrowing Lunarshade had gone far more smoothly than expected.

After promising repeatedly that he would return Lunarshade the moment the war ended, Fifteen declined Saryan’s offer to rest for a day.

Accompanied by Eko, he hurried to leave.

Yet strangely, on the road out of the forest, a puji kept following Fifteen at a casual but steady pace.

The little creature’s short legs moved astonishingly fast, darting between shifting patches of light and shadow.

“Is this some elf’s magic pet?” Fifteen finally asked, bewildered.

Eko glanced. “Most pujis in the forest are free. See? No green ribbon on its foot. That means it’s wild.”

“Your pujis are this… agile? Why is it following me?”

“Perhaps it likes you. Sometimes pujis take a liking to a certain elf.” Eko’s tone was flat. “It’s not rare.”

“So that’s normal…” Fifteen muttered, incredulous.

Their pace was quick, yet the puji still kept up with ease.

Unfortunately, every time Fifteen saw this nimble puji, it reminded him of unpleasant memories.

Even after he bid farewell to Eko at the forest’s edge, the puji continued tailing him persistently.

Though puzzled, Fifteen remembered he still had to cross the dangerous Scarecrow Abyss. And Eko had told him forest pujis had the “never-fall” trait. So he allowed the little follower to stay.

He did not expect, however, that the next morning he’d wake to find the puji had boldly climbed onto his head…

What bothered him even more was that—unlike the dull pujis that only obeyed Puji Masters—this one was incredibly lively. It would occasionally poke his hair or ear with a tiny mycelial tendril, giving him the impression it was… rather intelligent.

Thankfully, it truly did possess the “never-fall” trait. With its help, Fifteen crossed Scarecrow Abyss far more easily than on the way in.

Once he returned to the human-side settlement near the abyss, Fifteen made a brief stop.

The moment the scammer who sold fake pujis saw Fifteen walking toward him with a predatory smile, his face twisted in disbelief.

Then, in a panic, he shoved aside a passerby and tried to flee.

He never made it more than two steps.

His head hit the ground first.