This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

Humanity would actually seize this opportunity to launch a preemptive strike — this possibility was not something Visarius had entirely failed to consider, but when he truly saw the city gates open in that instant, the blood-tinted pupils of his eyes nevertheless contracted slightly.

This was illogical.

Arama’s reinforcements had been intercepted before entering visual range, and Tri-Mountain City’s magical communications had been completely jammed since the beginning of the siege.

By rights, the city’s defenders should have had no way of knowing reinforcements were arriving.

Plus, with him personally stationed here, even if today’s offensive wasn’t at full strength, they shouldn’t dare come out and fight to the death.

What Visarius did not know was that all of this was exactly what Fifteen — the small informant he had brought along, the ninth one he kept — was currently pleading about.

Still, even with the situation changing, the vampire prince remained as steady as a mountain.

The forces under his command were still far stronger than Tri-Mountain City’s garrison; besides…

“Watch out!”

At Fifteen’s horrified look, Duke Brennus suddenly took a stride and swung his blade across toward the archbishop Ditas at his side.

But the archbishop, who had already quietly condensed magic, was a step quicker!

Light Prison!

Countless great swords of condensed holy light fell from the sky, trapping Brennus in place.

The archbishop slowly turned, his robes snapping in the wind, eyes full of sorrow. “Brennus… how I wished I’d never had to use this magic on you.”

Brennus, shocked, tried to cleave the light prison, but the holy light burned his palms. “You… you knew all along?”

“You’re still as careless as ever. The number of spies captured near your camp was multiples of other sectors.” Ditas’s voice carried fatigue. “We hoped you could come to your senses. But it seems you ultimately chose to betray humanity.”

“Betray humanity? No! I’ve only betrayed the kingdom!” Brennus roared. “All our resistance has been in vain. The dwarves and elves have broken the pact and abandoned us! Why should humans stand alone against the demonkind? The more we resist, the more people die!”

His voice deepened. “Prince Visarius promised to preserve my title and lands; my people would be sheltered because of that. That is the most rational choice!”

He turned to the Sword Saint. “Elvian! You should clear your head too! With your strength, if you submit to the Empire, your treatment will be far better than mine; you could save even more people that way!”

He didn’t bother trying to sway the archbishop — the Empire would certainly not spare the Church.

From the sky, Visarius echoed and extended an olive branch: “He’s right, Elvian! Join the Empire, and you won’t only shelter humanity; with your talents, His Majesty would surely personally embrace you! And as a member of the bloodline, you would gain infinite possibilities — your future in the Empire might even surpass your position under me!”

Elvian steadied his hand on his sword hilt, one hand stroking the stubble at his chin, showing a pensive expression. “Sounds… not bad?”

Fifteen stared in disbelief. “Master?!”

“But,” the Sword Saint suddenly grinned, eyes flashing with sharpness, “what I want to do right now is cut off your heads!”

Fifteen felt the world blur; a blade of light that tore the earth itself grazed his sleeve and sliced toward Brennus trapped in the light prison.

Where the sword light passed, the ground left a deep furrow.

Several blood-serpents dove from midair and entwined the deadly sword qi.

The violent clash between the two forces shattered the light prison in an instant; Brennus was blown several meters away by the shockwave, vomiting blood.

Visarius descended slowly amid the ruin, his blood-red cloak moving as if of its own accord. “It seems clearing the blood toxin has given you an unjustified confidence, Elvian.”

The Sword Saint twirled his sword. “I really do think so. You’re nothing but a flying old rat who hides in monster bodies and uses poison to ambush!”

Elvian stepped forward first, his figure like a sword, leaving a trail of afterimages behind.

Before the blade arrived, its qi had already ploughed deep scars into the ground.

Visarius spread his wings in anger; countless blood droplets from the battlefield rose and formed a blood mist, which then condensed into countless sharp blood crystals. He flicked his fingers and the blood crystals poured like a storm, colliding with thunderous impact.

Each collision rattled the ears of the onlookers; the splintered energy flung nearby combatants aside.

“The Sword Saint’s strength — this is all he has.”

The prince sneered. The blood whirlpool in his palm suddenly expanded, swallowing the light within a hundred paces.

Within the darkened domain, Elvian closed his eyes and concentrated.

The moon pattern on the blade of Lunarshade gradually lit up; as the pale light flowed, it tore through the darkness.

There were no fancy moves, but each sword flash rose like a new crescent moon; where it passed the blood mist steamed away.

The two went from exchanging long-range attacks to brutal close quarters; the ground beneath them continued to collapse. The Sword Saint’s hem was torn by the rain of blood, and the prince’s cloak gained several sword scars.

When the Lunarshade severed half of the prince’s bat wing, Visarius’s claws cut three bloody lines across the Sword Saint’s face.

Visarius’s chest rose and fell slightly. Though his words were full of contempt, inwardly he was already twelve times more alert.

After a fierce battle, he had to privately admit he was shocked by the true strength Elvian had displayed.

If he didn’t go all out, today might well become a defeat.

And when Elvian drew the second sword from his waist, the prince’s expression grew even grimmer.

But he still held considerable odds — this was war, after all; victory didn’t hinge only on two commanders dueling.

So long as Brennus could keep the archbishop occupied, once the demon forces wiped out the remaining human soldiers they could gather their full strength to encircle and kill the Sword Saint.

However, when dense fur suddenly burst from the gaps in those Church knights’ armor and nonhuman beastly howls came from beneath their helms, the vampire prince could no longer keep his composure.

“Werewolves? You obtained that manuscript?!” he looked at the sorrowful archbishop in astonishment, then laughed aloud. “Good, good, good! I never thought the human Church of Light would serve the Light God like this!”

The werewolf-transformed holy knights not only shocked the demonkind but also stunned the human soldiers.

Those soldiers who had been complaining about the Church warriors avoiding combat a few days ago were now struck dumb as they looked at the furry beastly claws and scarlet pupils before them.

Only Elvian and the archbishop — and those Church warriors themselves — truly understood the whole plan.

The wolfification bestowed berserker strength upon them, while the residual holy energy barely maintained their reason, making them controllable war machines.

But that balance was fragile as spider silk; the beast nature would eventually devour reason. Therefore, besides the wolf-inducing ingredient, the black mist potion also contained a life-threatening catalyst that could provoke latent potential to lethal extremes.

It would force those Church warriors, before death, to unleash all the strength in their bodies.

From the moment they drank the potion, they had stepped onto a shortcut to death.

The power bought, though, was astonishing.

Although outnumbered, under the crushing charge of these werewolf warriors the demon lines were torn open; in places they even showed signs of retreat.

Sharp beast claws easily ripped through the bloodline’s armor; wherever the wolves howled, demon soldiers cowered.

Werewolves — an enemy almost forgotten by the bloodline — reappeared before them in this strange way.

Lin Jun thought he might be in for a good meal today; it would be either the Sword Saint or the vampire prince, and the latter was more likely.

…

While Tri-Mountain City fought a bloody battle, subtle changes elsewhere on the continent quietly affected the war.

The dwarf legion, after bitter struggle, finally reclaimed the ravaged Goldflame City from the ravaging elemental spirits.

When the last flaming elemental was driven back into the dungeon depths, they did not pursue; instead they sealed the dungeon entrance with molten mountain copper.

Led personally by the Dwarf King, the battle-fired army suddenly turned westward, an iron torrent pointing at the demon border.

This belated reinforcement had at last set off to support humanity.

For example, the Blood Veil departed from Twilightkeep and headed south, finally passing Highhold Fortress and moving toward Tri-Mountain City.

And for example, on the half-fallen western coast of the kingdom, grey-white mists began to creep inland…