This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

Mortis raised a hand and brushed the wound on his neck. The sting at his fingertips made him quietly bare his teeth.

Thin wisps of black mist clung to the edges of the wound, constantly interfering with his regeneration.

“Werewolf…” His low muttering carried a suppressed anger.

Crimson energy flowed rapidly along his fingers, forming a delicate layer of blood-armor over the wound, concealing the savage claw marks.

Mortis did not give the Sword Saint a second chance to rise. With a downward motion of his hand, countless blood-crystal spears plunged toward the ground.

After finishing this, Mortis turned to Valerius, his tone faint and without emotion. “Clean up the aftermath. I leave it to you.”

Valerius bowed deeply. “As you command, Your Majesty.”

Though Mortis’s demeanor remained composed, once he merged into the blood veil, the rolling red canopy began retreating across the sky at astonishing speed—faster than when it had arrived.

Watching the receding blood veil, Valerius silently wondered if something had happened elsewhere.

Since the emperor had already descended upon the battlefield, he should, by all logic, personally crush the last remaining defenses of Tri-Mountain City or rush to assist Xenophon for a swift resolution.

Leaving in such haste meant something had occurred that he had not been informed about.

But since His Majesty did not speak of it, he dared not ask.

The battle had gone poorly enough that the emperor himself had to act—already a severe failure on his part as commander.

Once the blood veil vanished from the horizon, Valerius’s first action was to search for the Sword Saint’s corpse among the forest of blood spears.

This human’s strongest warrior was far more powerful than expected. Had Valerius not prepared contingencies, even with his two lives, victory would have been uncertain.

In fact, defeat was highly likely.

Even in a narrow victory, the cost of expending all his Blood of Kin would have been devastating. That outcome would leave him with a loss far outweighing the gain.

At the center of the spear field, he finally found the Sword Saint’s remains—

A shattered skeleton?!

He immediately summoned blood-bats to secure the area. After confirming there was no danger, he inspected the bones. Repeated checks finally confirmed it: this skeletal frame truly belonged to the Sword Saint.

“His Majesty’s attack… had the power to corrode flesh like this?”

He had never once seen the emperor use such an ability.

But thinking further, it aligned with Mortis’s cautious nature. It was reasonable for His Majesty to hide certain powers from him.

Besides that explanation, nothing else fit.

There were no traces of mycelium anywhere near the corpse.

And though he knew the mycelium carpet could decompose bodies, normal decomposition took two to three days. Naturally, the prince never considered the possibility of puji involvement.

Confirming the Sword Saint’s death dispelled the last lingering doubt in Valerius’s heart.

Though a portion of human remnants had retreated into Tri-Mountain City for a final stand, with the Sword Saint fallen and the werewolf warriors nearly wiped out, the fall of the isolated city was only a matter of time.

Now they only needed word from Xenophon. Even a simple repelling of human reinforcements would be enough to plunge the besieged defenders into utter despair.

“Prince,” Ern approached, dragging his bloodstained cloak, the severed stump of his arm already cauterized under the blood veil’s influence. “Should we assault the city next, or reinforce the blocking forces?”

Valerius evaluated this loyal subordinate.

Though Ern had failed to hold the rear camp, his handling of command during Valerius’s brief “death” had been competent.

Such courage and ability deserved cultivation. The only thing he lacked was raw strength—something easily remedied.

In contrast…

Valerius’s gaze drifted past Ern and landed on Brennus, who was pouring healing potions into his own mouth. A trace of mockery flashed across Valerius’s lips.

This human traitor had already been routed repeatedly by Xenophon before defecting. Without the Sword Saint’s intervention, Brennus’s forces would have collapsed entirely.

Strength without courage or strategy…

Hmm. That description felt oddly familiar.

The image of Ellinor surfaced in Valerius’s mind…

At least Ellinor understood how to properly raise blood livestock. That alone placed her leagues above this waste of a man.

Still, if not for such a pathetic character, persuading him to defect would not have been so easy.

Valerius would not break his promise—the Brennus territory would remain untouched.

But within an empire ruled by strength, a man with no power yet holding land, wealth, and population…

Valerius could already envision Brennus’s future struggles as predators circled him. It might even provide some entertainment.

He looked to Ern. “I’ll assign some troops to you. Go to the rear camp and handle the—”

Boom—

The ground quaked violently as smoke rose from the western forest.

The prince narrowed his crimson eyes, the unfinished command freezing on his lips.

…

At the demon camp, inside one of the warehouses.

This warehouse stored the most basic yet most critically scarce supplies—healing potions and mana potions.

To resist the puji assault that struck from every angle, Ern had concentrated the last of their defensive strength into a handful of key warehouses—this was one of them.

At this moment, number one puji was leading a group of mushroom underlings and the normal puji the mycelium master had provided, engaged in a fierce clash with the guards.

The other areas had already been destroyed. With the power it had left, this was the last warehouse it could possibly break through.

But it had a bad feeling.

The mushroom clan’s senses told it that number two and the others were nearby…

Sure enough, after it broke the final line of defense—one underling even self-destructing to clear the way—they rushed into the warehouse only to find number two puji leisurely pouring mana potions over its mushroom cap.

Not far away, a chubby digger-type puji radiated heat, clearly having just completed an underground raid.

“Number two!” number one puji’s mycelium went rigid. “You dared steal my victory?!”

Number two lazily set down an empty potion bottle and smoothed the remaining blue liquid over its cap with elegance. “Big brother, we agreed—every puji relies on its own ability. This warehouse was captured through my carefully planned surprise attack.”

“You mean you waited until I held down the main guard forces, then snuck in to pick the fruit!” number one’s tendrils smacked the floor in rage.

The ground trembled.

Number one and number two both stopped their quarrel and spread their senses outward.

Suddenly, number five puji darted toward a burrow entrance, yelling through the mycelium network, “Above us!”

The puji raised their caps.

A black shape plummeted like a meteor.

The next instant, puji, potions, and the warehouse itself were obliterated in the impact.

Covered in spiderweb-like cracks across her skin, Rage let out a beastlike roar.

Right now she was like a burning mass of fire, igniting and annihilating everything in her path.

In her hazy consciousness, she sensed she was very close to her destination.

But what for?

She had already forgotten. Or perhaps she never knew.

She simply followed the pull, making her way toward Tri-Mountain City.