To maintain stability and prevent public panic toward the Mycelium Carpet and mushrooms, Fahl had originally planned to blur the truth about Lambert’s parasitism, downplaying its impact.
But developments quickly spiraled beyond his expectations.
The bizarre fact that Lambert was parasitized by fungal hyphae had already stirred curiosity among adventurers.
When he then “accidentally” established a subtle bond with two ordinary Pujis—able to issue them simple commands without any scrolls or magical tools—the gossip and excitement exploded.
Though the two Pujis were just the common, powerless kind often seen wandering Mushroom Town’s streets, this was controlling Pujis!
Soon someone in the crowd raised the question: if even battle-capable variants of Pujis in the Dungeon could be tamed the same way?
Lambert, already tasked with continuing investigation into his condition, didn’t resist.
By the time Mirabelle received orders from Fahl to pull Lambert away from the public eye, he had already been swept back into the Dungeon—cheered on by a throng of fired-up adventurers.
When they returned, the pair of plain Pujis had multiplied into more than a dozen, each with distinct abilities!
In the Dungeon, different regions of Mycelium Carpet spawned different Puji types.After trial and error, adventurers discovered a pattern: offering monster corpses to Pujis about to mature granted a chance to claim one as a controllable companion.
Not every offering succeeded, but failure only meant hunting more monsters.
These Pujis could follow Lambert’s orders, even fighting in coordination with him—a sight that filled the onlookers with envy.
Combat pets requiring no contracts or tools!
If they died, replacing them was trivially easy!
Though each Puji was weak alone, numbers could compensate.
The idea electrified the Guild.
Adventurers now clamored to know exactly how Lambert’s parasitism began and what side effects it carried.
Bound by agreement with the Guild, Lambert avoided details. He vaguely claimed he’d been caught in a teleportation trap on the eighth floor and awoke in this condition.
But rumors spread unstoppably.
Sharp ears learned that Lambert was first rescued by Veyra’s team. Surrounded by eager questions, Veyra and her companions ended up recounting the scene of his discovery.
The tale twisted into legend: Lambert, on the brink of death, was “chosen” by a Puji, fused with it, and not only survived but gained command over Pujis. The supposed “price” was only some disfiguring fungal marks and a small mana upkeep.
Fahl’s hopes of suppressing the news collapsed completely.
Yet instead of fear, people were fascinated.
Adventurers didn’t recoil from the Mycelium Carpet. They flocked toward it with greedy curiosity.
Lambert could only command a dozen or so Pujis, but used well, their combined strength equaled a silver-ranked warrior.
High-tier powerhouses might scoff, but for the countless silver and copper adventurers, it was irresistible.
The “ugly side effect” was easily outweighed by tangible combat strength. For some adventurers—who weren’t handsome to begin with—it was even a convenient excuse: “I became like this for Puji power.”
No second “Puji Controller” appeared yet, only because people waited to see if Lambert’s condition would reveal hidden dangers.
…
All of this unfolded under Lin Jun’s silent watch.
Everything was proceeding according to plan.
Adventurers like Lambert were merely “external personnel.” The permissions granted to them through the mycelial network were the lowest grade—only enough to command the Pujis assigned to them, nothing more.
Lin Jun had no intention of communicating with these uninitiated humans. Letting them spread the influence of Pujis on their own was better.
Humanity’s faltering war against the Empire was both a danger and an opportunity.
Given past hostilities with the Empire, Lin Jun could easily imagine how demons would treat the Mycelium Carpet if they won.
He might survive hidden deep in the Dungeon, expanding in secret underground.
But sunlight, life on the surface—that would be gone.
Humans were different. They needed mushrooms. And soon, they would need Pujis.
For that, they would be forced to compromise.
One day, perhaps his Mycelium Carpet would stretch to the very front lines.
“Hehehehe… hahahaha!”
The eerie laughter rang in Norris’s mind. He flinched instinctively, but wisely kept silent. By now, he was used to Lin Jun’s strange outbursts.
Meanwhile, Lin Jun did not neglect the “side issues” his schemes produced—such as a certain demon spy who had glimpsed Dilan’s true form, a risk that could not be ignored.
…
At the crowd’s edge, Rita stared at Lambert strutting with a train of Pujis. Her gaze lingered on the white fungal filaments crawling across his face.
This appearance… looked strangely familiar. Aside from color, wasn’t it just like Dilan?
Did that mean Dilan was human?
What was going on?
Perhaps these hyphae on Lambert were part of some Duke’s secret plan?
Rita wasn’t sure, but one thing was clear: this needed to be reported.
She withdrew quietly, slipping from the crowd to meet her partner. But only a few steps later, she froze.
Not far ahead, Dilan was shopping with the store girl Bianca, chatting casually.
Without hesitation, Rita ducked into a narrow alley to circle around.
Dilan might not be a problem—but caution never hurt.
She moved swiftly among the new stone houses. The crowd’s noise faded.
“Puji—”
A faint sound came from behind her.
Her face unchanged, she kept walking steadily. But inside her sleeve, her hand had already shifted into claw form.
A rush of air. Rita spun and slashed.
“Shhk!” A bladed tentacle, severed, shimmered into view.
“Invisibility…”
Her heart jolted. She kicked off the ground, leaping back to disengage.
But as she landed, agony pierced her back.
A tentacle had driven through her chest, painting its outline in her blood.
“Ugh…”
More blows followed, slicing her throat and body.
Rita collapsed in a spreading pool of red, her disguise melting away into the gray, gelatinous form of a doppelgänger.
Only then did the Pujis that had been cloaked in stealth shimmer into view, round and squat.
As her consciousness sank into darkness, she heard a mocking voice:
“Next time, don’t go dumping poison where it doesn’t belong.”