“Can’t wait for Fifteen anymore! Everyone who can still move, with me—upward! Rip open a path to the upper floor!”
Everyone knew the odds—hope flickered like a candle in the wind.
But when Commander Solarin rasped out that order, in a voice that brooked no refusal, it ignited the last spark of instinct within them.
The will to live overcame fear. Adventurers and Church warriors staggered into formation behind her, forming a shaky wedge.
Aime clutched her short sword, palms slick with cold sweat. The icy metal was the only anchor she had left.
The breakout began.
Solarin charged first, her longsword blazing with radiant light, cleaving down on the Puji that lashed tentacles in her way.
The others followed, screaming, pouring what strength and fear remained into a single desperate push.
Blades and mycelium collided in a storm of sparks and spores.
At first, riding Solarin’s brilliance and their shared frenzy, they actually tore a breach through the Puji blocking the fourth-floor stair mouth!Aime’s heart thundered—was that… a glimpse of survival?
But it was only an illusion. For beyond the breach lay more Pujis.
Endless, from every direction, flooding toward them like a filthy tide.
Purple poison fog seeped into the air. One by one, people collapsed, dragged away by writhing tentacles.
The formation broke. Chaos spread like plague.
“Hold the line! Don’t scatter!” Solarin’s shout was weak in the cacophony.
She swung her sword, trying to rally them, but the collapse was inevitable.
This was no longer a breakout. This was Pujis hunting treats.
Aime saw the mage Aedin vanish in a blur—fled with a teleport.
She regretted not buying an invisibility scroll.
She was only a silver-ranked adventurer. Lasting this long had been pure luck. But now… it ended.
A tentacle coiled around her leg. She screamed as she was yanked down.
She twisted, struggling, but more tendrils wrapped her limbs like living snakes, binding her tight.
Her neck stiffened—she could just turn her head. All around, a forest of Pujis closed in.
So this was death?
All for thirty gold coins?
Ha… how standard. A textbook adventurer’s ending.
But just as resignation settled in, hot liquid welled uncontrollably into her eyes.
Tears streamed down her dirt-streaked cheeks.
Pathetic… she’d never thought she’d be the kind to cry at the end.
One Puji loomed close, its cap swelling—
“Puff!”
A blast of sweet, acrid purple spores sprayed across her face, mouth, and nose!
The world warped and spun.
Fear, cold, pain—all dissolved, stripped away by strange power.
And in its place—
She was in the guild, handing in the commission. A heavy pouch of coins clinked into her palm. The sound was glorious.
Her teammates were gathered, Horn and Old Hammer grinning with naked envy.
Noah’s eyes shone with admiration.
Their gazes filled her with warm pride.
“Come on! Grilled catfish belly, my treat!” she heard her own carefree laugh in the tavern.
After the feast, she lay in her tiny rented room, sinking into a soft bed.
So tired…
Just sleep…
Sleep…
…
The Pujis stripped her gear with practiced ease.
Her leather armor was junk—not even worth putting in the lottery pile.
But the dagger and shortbow were serviceable.
And the gold—eleven coins, not bad for a young silver-rank. She must have worked hard.
Now, they belonged to the Pujis.
The same scene played out again and again nearby—even Solarin herself.
The commander of Wings of Judgment fought to the very end, weapon never lowered.
Others had been knocked out by spores. She was beaten unconscious.
But valor was no exception.
The Pujis stripped her clean too.
As a captain, she carried two +3 stat items, and her unit’s custom armor was valuable despite damage.
Lin Jun even found a silver pendant on her.
At first he thought it was enchanted. But inside was just a portrait—herself and a young man.
Uwaaah—
So she was the type to keep a loved one’s photo close to her heart.
If it were copper, maybe he’d let it slide. But silver? Nope—loot for the mushrooms.
This world didn’t have cameras, but it had imaging magic. Adventurer ID cards were made that way.
His magic books had notes on it—it was only a Tier 2 spell. He just hadn’t learned it yet.
Maybe he should. A group photo for Mushroom Park employees would be nice.
Lin Jun’s thoughts always wandered—his vast mental power let him multitask without losing Puji control.
Moo-Pujis swallowed the loot to haul it to the sixth-floor vault.
Others carried the captives back to the fifth floor, dumping them in the cavern clearing, ringed by Pujis.
With that done, Lin Jun turned his gaze to the battlefield where Fifteen had just carved his path.
The ground was littered with sliced Puji fragments.
Thanks to his sharp twin blades, the cuts were clean. With [Mycelium Reassembly], repairs were possible.
But chunks didn’t crawl together on their own. Pujis weren’t ninth-floor flesh-creatures.
Still, thrift was virtue. Lin Jun decided to try salvaging some anyway.
He had time to kill, after all—while that swordsman dug himself out.