The moment the first Myconid lunges, one of our Spiky Caterpillars reacts instantly—a sharp whizzing sound slicing through the air as a barrage of spines shoots toward the attacker.

  The Myconid twists mid-air, narrowly dodging most of them—but not all.

  A few spines embed into its side, causing it to stumble on impact. A thick, greenish goo leaks from the wounds as it reaches over, gripping the embedded spines with its gnarled fingers and yanking them out without hesitation.

  Then, as if the first strike was a signal—

  The rest of The Rot charges.

  Goldy, ever the fearless leader, throws herself forward, locking eyes with the strongest Myconid—the one who spoke. This one is taller, bulkier, its dark body covered in tough, jagged fungal plating.

  Victor, true to his role, stays in a safe position, his bristles twitching as he analyzes the battlefield, preparing to call out enemy movements and direct the Spiky Caterpillar's support fire.

  The Spiky Caterpillars unload another volley, their sharp spines streaking through the air, aiming to disrupt enemy formations.

  Meanwhile, the rest of us?

  We’re each locked in our own battles.

  Tessa and I face off against our own opponents—two Myconids that move with unnerving precision, their bodies shifting and twisting in ways that shouldn’t be possible.

  Tessa's ears twitch, her instincts flaring to life.

  I can already feel it—

  This isn’t going to be an easy fight.

  The Myconid springs at me, their twisted limbs stretching unnaturally as it lunges with terrifying speed.

  Too slow.

  I snap my mandibles shut with force, catching them mid-attack and using all my strength to hurl them into the air.

  For a brief moment, they're completely vulnerable—a perfect target.

  I fire a spine, aiming to impale them before they lands—

  —but then, their arm whips out unnaturally fast, catching the spine mid-air.

  What the—?!

  The Myconid twists its hand, gripping my spine like a weapon, its glowing green eyes flickering with eerie intelligence.

  Then, they throws my own spine back at me.

  I barely have time to react.

  I jerk to the side, but not fast enough—the spine slashes across my side, embedding shallowly into my carapace. A sharp sting spreads from the wound, but it’s not deep enough to be serious.

  Damn it. They're learning.

  The Myconid lands with a soft, wet thud, their body shifting unnaturally as they readjusts their stance. They doesn’t attack immediately. They're watching me now.

  Testing me.

  I grit my mandibles, ignoring the sting. If they thinks I’m going to back down, they're dead wrong.

  Fine. Let’s see who adapts faster.

  The Myconid tenses, their fungal limbs shifting as they prepares to attack again. Their eerie green eyes stay locked on me, calculating.

  I won’t let them get the upper hand.

  I rush forward, closing the gap before they can react. My mandibles snap toward their arm, aiming to cripple their movement—

  —but they're fast. Too fast.

  They twists their body, avoiding my bite, and their arm stretches unnaturally, slamming into my side like a whip.

  Thwack!

  The impact stings, but I dig my legs into the ground, holding firm. Not this time.

  Before it can pull back, I coil my body and lunge again, my mandibles snapping forward in a feint attack.

  They instinctively dodges—just as I expected.

  That’s when I fire another spine, point-blank.

  This time, they doesn’t have time to react.

  The spine buries deep into their shoulder.

  The Myconid shudders, their whole body twitching as green goo seeps from the wound. But instead of retreating, they lunges straight at me again—like they doesn’t even feel pain.

  I brace myself. This fight is far from over.

  As the Myconid lunges, their twisted fingers grasp the spine lodged in their shoulder—and in one swift motion,they yanks it out.

  Green goo splatters from the wound, but they doesn’t even flinch.

  Instead, they flips the spine in its grip like a dagger and swings it straight at me.

  My instincts scream at me to move—

  I twist my body, the sharp tip grazing past my side, leaving a stinging scratch instead of a deep wound.

  Close. Too close.

  Before they can press the attack, I lash out with my bristles, forcing them to back off.

  Damn it, this thing is really using my own weapons against me?

  Fine. If they wants to play dirty, so can I.

  I narrow my eyes, mandibles clicking as an idea forms.

  If this thing wants to fight dirty, then fine—I’ll show it what that really means.

  As they readies another strike, I lower my body slightly, making them think I’m about to dodge again. They takes the bait, swinging the stolen spine toward my head—

  —but at the last second, I rear up and spit straight into their face.

  A fat glob of sticky silk splatters over their eyes.

  The Myconid stiffens, their movements suddenly jerky as they recoils, clawing at theirs face. The stolen spine wobbles in theirs grip, momentarily forgotten.

  Got you.

  I don’t hesitate. I throw my full weight into it, crashing my body against their weakened stance.

  They stumbles backward, arms flailing as it struggles to regain balance. But I’m not done.

  Before they can recover, I slam my mandibles into their shoulder—the same one I injured before—and bite down hard.

  As I bite down, the Myconid shudders—then suddenly, they erupts a cloud of spores right in my face.

  Damn it!

  My vision blurs instantly, everything around me swallowed in a thick, hazy fog of green. But I don’t let go.

  Even as the spores sting my eyes, even as my body protests, I hold on, mandibles locked tight into their already wounded shoulder.

  Then I hear Victor’s voice, sharp and urgent.

  "Dear Sister Nur! another Myconid approaches!"

  Shit.

  I release my bite and back away, shaking my body violently to clear the spores. My vision remains murky, but I can make out the Myconid staggering backward, clutching its mangled shoulder.

  I didn’t have time to finish it off—because another dark came towards me.

  What the hell? I thought each of us had a Myconid to deal with!

  I turn toward Victor, still struggling to clear my vision. "Victor, what happened?!"

  He shudders, his bristles trembling, before he gives an answer I really, really didn’t want to hear.

  "One of us has fallen."

  Shit.

  I whip my head around, scanning the battlefield despite the lingering haze in my vision. My heart—or whatever I have as a caterpillar—sinks when I spot it.

  One of the Lesser Spiky Caterpillars, one of the newly evolved, is lying motionless on the ground.

  And from its still body, thin, sickly-looking mushrooms are already sprouting.

  A cold, gnawing feeling creeps up my gut.

  Shit.

  I knew Myconids were dangerous. I knew they could infect things. But seeing it happen to one of ours—seeing it so fast—

  A furious hiss escapes me.

  I tear my gaze away and glare at the two Myconids in front of me. The one I wounded is breathing heavily, still gripping its ruined shoulder. The new one, the one that tried to blindside me, stands tall and unscathed, spores drifting lazily from its cap.

  It doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

  I already know what they thinking.

  They going to do the same thing to me.

  Shit. Now I have to deal with two of them.

  The wounded one isn't down yet, still standing despite their injuries, while the fresh one is completely unscathed.

  I click my mandibles, heart racing. This isn't good. I glance toward the others—Goldy is still locked in battle with the strongest Myconid, Vex and the others are occupied, and Victor… Victor is supporting from a distance, but I know he can’t help me directly.

  No backup. I’m on my own.

  The new Myconid moves first, lunging at me with sharp, elongated fingers. I barely dodge in time, feeling the air shift as its claws slice past where I was a second ago.

  The wounded one follows up immediately, thrusting a jagged piece of my own spine at me again, aiming for my thorax. Damn it, they're working together now?!

  I twist my body mid-air, avoiding a deep hit, but the tip of the stolen spine scrapes against my side, leaving another shallow wound.

  I hit the ground and immediately roll away, trying to create distance.

  Two against one.

  I need a plan, fast.

  PFFT.

  Another burst of spores explodes in my face.

  Damn it!

  The moment it hits, my vision swims. My head spins, and my legs feel like they're moving through thick sludge.

  I shake myself violently, trying to clear it off, but it’s so much worse this time.

  The spores aren’t just blinding me—they’re muffling everything, making the whole battlefield feel distant, like I’m trapped in some kind of heavy fog.

  I can barely think, barely react—

  And I still have two of these things to deal with.

  Pain.

  A sharp, burning pain blooms in my side.

  I barely register the impact before I realize what happened—the wounded Myconid just stabbed me with the very spine it stole earlier.

  Damn it

  I hiss, my legs buckling slightly as the pain flares, but I don't even get a moment to recover—

  The other Myconid is already moving, arms raised, ready to finish me off.

  —THUNK!

  A spine flies through the air and slams into its chest, making it stagger back with a sickening squelch.

  I don’t waste the opening.

  Gritting my mandibles, I force myself to move, snapping my head toward the wounded Myconid still pressing the spine into me.

  I fire my own spine—point-blank—straight into its side.

  It chokes out a sound, its grip faltering.

  I turn, mandibles wide, ignoring the pain burning through me, and lunge at its throat.

  I slam it into the ground, my legs gripping tight as I clamp my mandibles down on its neck.

  The Myconid thrashes wildly, its limbs flailing, trying desperately to pry me off. Its body jerks and spasms, its hands scratching at my carapace, but I squeeze harder.

  Die, you motherfucker.

  A wet, sickening CRACK echoes through the battlefield.

  The struggle stops.

  With one final wrench, I rip its head clean off.

  Fungal ichor spurts from the stump, the body twitching a few more times before finally going limp beneath me.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  As I revel in my victory, a twisted sense of satisfaction bubbling in my chest, a shadow looms behind me.

  Shit.

  I forgot about the other one.

  I twist my body, but it's too late—it's already mid-lunge, arms raised.

  But before it can reach me—

  Tessa barrels into it.

  She slams into the Myconid’s side, knocking it off course before sinking her fangs into its arm.

  A guttural snarl rips from her throat as she tears into it, biting and slashing with reckless ferocity.

  Her claws rake across its body, ripping chunks of mushroom flesh free. The Myconid screeches, trying to shake her off, but she’s a whirlwind of teeth and claws, her body moving with an almost unnatural fluidity—

  Instinctive Flow.

  She dodges its flailing arms like she already knows where they’ll land, her movements seamless, brutal, efficient.

  The Myconid doesn’t stand a chance.

  I stare at her, deadpan.

  One second, she was ripping a Myconid apart like a crazed beast, and the next, she’s tilting her head at me, all smiles and wagging tail.

  "Nur, you alright?" she chirps, her voice as bubbly as ever, like she didn’t just maul something to death.

  "...Hehe, I’m alright," I mutter, shaking off the shock. "Just got a few wounds."

  Which is an understatement. My body aches, and the stab wound from earlier throbs, but I’ll live.

  Tessa wags her tail, looking way too pleased with herself, while the corpse of the Myconid lies motionless beside her, its body shredded beyond recognition.

  I glance at her, then at the battlefield still covered in floating spores. "What happened to the Myconid you were fighting earlier?"

  Tessa perks up at the question, then lifts a paw and points.

  I squint through the haze of spores, my vision still a little fuzzy from earlier. At first, I don’t see anything—just the churned-up ground and the shifting figures of our allies and enemies locked in combat.

  Then I spot it.

  A Myconid, or what’s left of it, mangled on the ground.

  Its body is twisted, torn apart, and riddled with deep claw marks and bite wounds. One of its arms is missing entirely, and its cap is cracked and leaking that weird green goo.

  I glance back at Tessa, who’s wagging her tail, looking way too cheerful for someone who just brutalized a creature to death.

  …Yeah. Remind me never to piss her off.

  I shake off the remaining spores clinging to me and turn to Victor. "What's the situation?"

  Victor, ever composed despite the chaos, responds in his usual refined tone. "Young Highness Goldy has dispatched their leader. Master Vex has successfully eliminated one of the foes and has moved on to assist the others."

  I exhale sharply. Goldy won her fight. No surprise there. But Vex? He actually handled his opponent cleanly? I half-expected him to whine about how annoying the fight was.

  That means the tide of battle is shifting in our favor.

  Still, we’ve already lost one.

  I steal a glance at the fallen Lesser Spiky Caterpillar, its small body overgrown with sprouting fungi—a grim reminder that this isn’t just some mindless brawl.

  We need to end this now.

  With their leader dead and our side gaining the upper hand, the remaining Myconids hesitate. Their movements become erratic, their formation falling apart.

  One of them suddenly turns and flees, trying to vanish into the spore-filled air. A sharp spine whistles through the air—piercing its back and pinning it to the ground. It writhes for a moment before going still.

  Another two make a desperate break for it, darting toward the darkness of the labyrinth. Victor calls out a warning, and in unison, our Spiky Caterpillar fire a volley. One is struck in the leg, tumbling forward before a second spine lands the killing blow.

  The third, however— it gets away.

  I grit my mandibles, watching its silhouette disappear into the depths of the labyrinth. One survivor. That’s bad news.

  Goldy, panting but still standing strong, looks over the battlefield. "It's over."

  For now.

  Goldy strides over to Victor, her usual enthusiasm dimmed by exhaustion and the weight of the battle.

  "Victor, the situation?" she asks, her tone serious.

  Victor bows his head slightly before answering, "Victory is ours, Young Highness. However..." His voice trails off for a moment before he continues, "We have suffered a loss. One of our own has fallen."

  Silence. Then, Vex's voice cuts through like a blade.

  "Damn it! This is on you, Victor!" he snaps, his bristles flexing in anger. "You’re supposed to be our eyes! How the hell did you let this happen?"

  Victor doesn’t flinch. He simply lowers his head further and replies calmly, "I take full responsibility. There is no excuse."

  Vex clicks his mandibles, seething. "Useless."

  That’s when Goldy snaps.

  "Enough!" she stomps forward, standing between them. "Victor already got it full, Vex! He assisted all of us! If it weren’t for his warnings and coordination, more of us would’ve fallen!"

  Vex glares at her, but Goldy doesn’t back down.

  "We lost someone, yeah. But turning on each other won't bring them back."

  Silence hangs between them, thick with tension.

  I drag the fallen caterpillar toward the group, its body still and lifeless, with mushrooms already beginning to sprout from it. The spores of the Myconids had taken root, but it didn’t matter anymore.

  The others knew what had to be done.

  As I step back, the brood moves in—mandibles clicking, bristles flexing. This was our way. The way of survival. We do not bury our dead. We consume them, to honor them, to make sure they remain with us—part of us.

  But even now, it still doesn’t sit right with me.

  So, I turn away, letting them do what needs to be done.

  That’s when I hear Tessa’s voice, confused and uneasy.

  "Nur...? What are they doing!? Why—"

  I cut her off, not turning to look at her.

  "This is the thing we do, Tessa. It always has been, ever since I hatched."

  I hear her shift beside me, uneasy, still trying to process it. But she doesn’t say anything else.

  This is just the way things are.

  After they finish cannibalizing our fallen kin, we move on to the next task—gathering the dead Myconids.

  One by one, we drag their limp bodies toward the center of the battlefield, their fungal flesh leaving behind streaks of darkened spores and greenish ichor. The air still carries the stench of battle, a mix of rot and the sharp, acidic scent of spilled fluids.

  Victor, as diligent as ever, is tending to the wounded Myconid we chose to protect. His sensitive bristles twitch as he carefully examines its condition, ensuring that it clings to life despite its injuries.

  Goldy stands at the center of it all, watching over everything, her golden body tense with both exhaustion and determination.

  The battle is over. But something tells me this is only the beginning.

  Victor, ever the meticulous one, approaches one of the fallen Myconids. Without hesitation, he tears off a chunk of its fungal flesh using his mandibles. The soft, decomposing matter squelches as he lifts it, strands of mycelium stretching before snapping apart.

  With careful precision, he places the severed piece atop the wounded Myconid we’ve been protecting.

  I watch in silence, my spines twitching with unease.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  Victor doesn’t even look up as he replies in his usual composed tone. “It requires decomposition to heal. This shall hasten the process.”

  I glance at the wounded Myconid. Even in its weakened state, its body absorbs the decaying flesh almost instantly, thin tendrils of fungal growth sprouting and wrapping around the offered piece.

  The sight is... unsettling.

  Tessa, who has been watching all this with wide eyes, suddenly shudders. “Ewwww! That’s like, super creepy!”

  Goldy, however, merely nods in understanding. “Good thinking, Victor.”

  Vex scoffs from a short distance away, still irritated from earlier, but he says nothing.

  The battlefield is quiet now. But the weight of what just happened still lingers in the air.

  Victor, after observing the wounded Myconid closely, gives a small nod. “It is recovering. It should regain consciousness soon.”

  Goldy exhales, relieved. “Good. Then while we wait, let’s help clean up… and eat.”

  At that, Tessa perks up, ears twitching in excitement. She immediately turns to me, her tail wagging. “Ohhh! Nur, do you think it’ll taste the same as mushrooms from our previous life? This is our first time eating Myconids, right?”

  I blink at her, momentarily thrown off by the sheer enthusiasm in her voice. First time? Yeah… technically, it is for me too. I’ve eaten a lot of weird things in this life, but a sentient mushroom? Not yet.

  I glance at the dead Myconids piled in the center. Their bodies, now lifeless, still emit a faint, damp, earthy scent. Not exactly the same as the edible mushrooms I remember.

  I sigh, deadpan. “I doubt it’ll be the same, Tessa.”

  Tessa, still undeterred, tilts her head. “Only one way to find out!”

  Victor, as usual, remains unfazed by the conversation. “Shall we begin, then?”

  With Goldy’s cue, the brood begins their feast. The lesser spiky caterpillars and spiky caterpillars aka spine shooters tear into the fallen Myconids without hesitation, mandibles clicking as they devour the bodies. Vex, still irritated from earlier, mutters something under his breath before digging in.

  I watch as Victor neatly pulls apart a piece of Myconid flesh, eating with his usual refined movements. Goldy, on the other hand, doesn’t hold back, tearing into a chunk of Myconid and crunching it with enthusiasm.

  Tessa, meanwhile, eyes the meal with curiosity. She sniffs at a piece before tentatively biting into it. Her ears twitch, and for a moment, she pauses. Then, suddenly, her tail wags. “Oh! It’s kinda chewy but also… juicy? It’s weird, but not bad!”

  I sigh, finally giving in, and take a bite myself. The texture is spongy but firm, and there’s an earthy, slightly bitter taste, with a strange aftertaste I can’t quite place. It’s nothing like the mushrooms I remember from our past life.

  Tessa, still munching, turns to me with bright eyes. “Nur! Nur! Do you think we can cook this somehow? Maybe roast it? What if we make soup?!”

  I stare at her, unimpressed. “We don’t even have fire.”

  She deflates for a second, but then immediately perks up again. “Then we just gotta find a way! Right, right?!”

  I shake my head, exhaling. Only Tessa could get this excited over eating a sentient mushroom.

  I glance at Tessa, who’s still wagging her tail excitedly. “Well, unless you somehow know fire magic, I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

  Tessa pauses mid-bite, tilting her head in thought. “Fire magic, huh? That’d be so cool! Maybe I should try learning it!”

  Victor, the only one who understands her, clears his throat. “My dear Miss Tessa, I do believe that mastering magic is no simple feat. One cannot simply decide to learn fire magic and expect results overnight.”

  Tessa blinks at him, then grins. “Well, I dunno how, but I’ll figure it out someday!”

  I just sigh. “Yeah, sure. You do that.”

  As we continue eating, a faint rustling sound comes from behind. The Myconid we’ve been protecting stirs, its body twitching slightly before its cap shifts. A moment later, its glowing eyes flicker open.

  Victor immediately stops what he’s doing and moves toward it. “Ah, you are awake. How do you fare?”

  The Myconid sits up sluggishly, its body still weak from injuries. It glances around, looking at he pile of its fallen kin at the center and the remains of our feast. Then, it looks at us—pausing slightly when its gaze meets Goldy’s.

  “You… helped,” its voice echoes in our heads, slow and heavy. “The Rot… lost?”

  Goldy nods firmly. “Yeah, they’re dead. Well… except for one that escaped.”

  The Myconid seems to process this, its spores releasing in a slow pulse. “Then… there is still danger.”

  As the Myconid slowly regains its strength, it suddenly speaks in our minds again, its voice echoing with urgency.

  “We must go. Now. To our leader.”

  I immediately hold up a leg. “Whoa, whoa, hold on.”

  The Myconid pauses, confused.

  “First of all, introduce yourself. Second, you’re still injured.” I grab a piece of a fallen Myconid from the pile and toss it toward it. “Eat this first, recover.”

  The Myconid hesitates for a moment, then reluctantly picks up the flesh and starts absorbing it.

  “And third,” I continue, crossing my front legs, “explain what the hell is going on.”

  The Myconid takes a moment, its body pulsating slightly as it absorbs the nutrients. Then, with a slow, deliberate tone, it speaks in our minds once more.

  “I am Sairn, a member of the Sporehaven faction.”

  End of Chapter 22

  The moment the first Myconid lunges, one of our Spiky Caterpillars reacts instantly—a sharp whizzing sound slicing through the air as a barrage of spines shoots toward the attacker.

  The Myconid twists mid-air, narrowly dodging most of them—but not all.

  A few spines embed into its side, causing it to stumble on impact. A thick, greenish goo leaks from the wounds as it reaches over, gripping the embedded spines with its gnarled fingers and yanking them out without hesitation.

  Then, as if the first strike was a signal—

  The rest of The Rot charges.

  Goldy, ever the fearless leader, throws herself forward, locking eyes with the strongest Myconid—the one who spoke. This one is taller, bulkier, its dark body covered in tough, jagged fungal plating.

  Victor, true to his role, stays in a safe position, his bristles twitching as he analyzes the battlefield, preparing to call out enemy movements and direct the Spiky Caterpillar's support fire.

  The Spiky Caterpillars unload another volley, their sharp spines streaking through the air, aiming to disrupt enemy formations.

  Meanwhile, the rest of us?

  We’re each locked in our own battles.

  Tessa and I face off against our own opponents—two Myconids that move with unnerving precision, their bodies shifting and twisting in ways that shouldn’t be possible.

  Tessa's ears twitch, her instincts flaring to life.

  I can already feel it—

  This isn’t going to be an easy fight.

  The Myconid springs at me, their twisted limbs stretching unnaturally as it lunges with terrifying speed.

  Too slow.

  I snap my mandibles shut with force, catching them mid-attack and using all my strength to hurl them into the air.

  For a brief moment, they're completely vulnerable—a perfect target.

  I fire a spine, aiming to impale them before they lands—

  —but then, their arm whips out unnaturally fast, catching the spine mid-air.

  What the—?!

  The Myconid twists its hand, gripping my spine like a weapon, its glowing green eyes flickering with eerie intelligence.

  Then, they throws my own spine back at me.

  I barely have time to react.

  I jerk to the side, but not fast enough—the spine slashes across my side, embedding shallowly into my carapace. A sharp sting spreads from the wound, but it’s not deep enough to be serious.

  Damn it. They're learning.

  The Myconid lands with a soft, wet thud, their body shifting unnaturally as they readjusts their stance. They doesn’t attack immediately. They're watching me now.

  Testing me.

  I grit my mandibles, ignoring the sting. If they thinks I’m going to back down, they're dead wrong.

  Fine. Let’s see who adapts faster.

  The Myconid tenses, their fungal limbs shifting as they prepares to attack again. Their eerie green eyes stay locked on me, calculating.

  I won’t let them get the upper hand.

  I rush forward, closing the gap before they can react. My mandibles snap toward their arm, aiming to cripple their movement—

  —but they're fast. Too fast.

  They twists their body, avoiding my bite, and their arm stretches unnaturally, slamming into my side like a whip.

  Thwack!

  The impact stings, but I dig my legs into the ground, holding firm. Not this time.

  Before it can pull back, I coil my body and lunge again, my mandibles snapping forward in a feint attack.

  They instinctively dodges—just as I expected.

  That’s when I fire another spine, point-blank.

  This time, they doesn’t have time to react.

  The spine buries deep into their shoulder.

  The Myconid shudders, their whole body twitching as green goo seeps from the wound. But instead of retreating, they lunges straight at me again—like they doesn’t even feel pain.

  I brace myself. This fight is far from over.

  As the Myconid lunges, their twisted fingers grasp the spine lodged in their shoulder—and in one swift motion,they yanks it out.

  Green goo splatters from the wound, but they doesn’t even flinch.

  Instead, they flips the spine in its grip like a dagger and swings it straight at me.

  My instincts scream at me to move—

  I twist my body, the sharp tip grazing past my side, leaving a stinging scratch instead of a deep wound.

  Close. Too close.

  Before they can press the attack, I lash out with my bristles, forcing them to back off.

  Damn it, this thing is really using my own weapons against me?

  Fine. If they wants to play dirty, so can I.

  I narrow my eyes, mandibles clicking as an idea forms.

  If this thing wants to fight dirty, then fine—I’ll show it what that really means.

  As they readies another strike, I lower my body slightly, making them think I’m about to dodge again. They takes the bait, swinging the stolen spine toward my head—

  —but at the last second, I rear up and spit straight into their face.

  A fat glob of sticky silk splatters over their eyes.

  The Myconid stiffens, their movements suddenly jerky as they recoils, clawing at theirs face. The stolen spine wobbles in theirs grip, momentarily forgotten.

  Got you.

  I don’t hesitate. I throw my full weight into it, crashing my body against their weakened stance.

  They stumbles backward, arms flailing as it struggles to regain balance. But I’m not done.

  Before they can recover, I slam my mandibles into their shoulder—the same one I injured before—and bite down hard.

  As I bite down, the Myconid shudders—then suddenly, they erupts a cloud of spores right in my face.

  Damn it!

  My vision blurs instantly, everything around me swallowed in a thick, hazy fog of green. But I don’t let go.

  Even as the spores sting my eyes, even as my body protests, I hold on, mandibles locked tight into their already wounded shoulder.

  Then I hear Victor’s voice, sharp and urgent.

  "Dear Sister Nur! another Myconid approaches!"

  Shit.

  I release my bite and back away, shaking my body violently to clear the spores. My vision remains murky, but I can make out the Myconid staggering backward, clutching its mangled shoulder.

  I didn’t have time to finish it off—because another dark came towards me.

  What the hell? I thought each of us had a Myconid to deal with!

  I turn toward Victor, still struggling to clear my vision. "Victor, what happened?!"

  He shudders, his bristles trembling, before he gives an answer I really, really didn’t want to hear.

  "One of us has fallen."

  Shit.

  I whip my head around, scanning the battlefield despite the lingering haze in my vision. My heart—or whatever I have as a caterpillar—sinks when I spot it.

  One of the Lesser Spiky Caterpillars, one of the newly evolved, is lying motionless on the ground.

  And from its still body, thin, sickly-looking mushrooms are already sprouting.

  A cold, gnawing feeling creeps up my gut.

  Shit.

  I knew Myconids were dangerous. I knew they could infect things. But seeing it happen to one of ours—seeing it so fast—

  A furious hiss escapes me.

  I tear my gaze away and glare at the two Myconids in front of me. The one I wounded is breathing heavily, still gripping its ruined shoulder. The new one, the one that tried to blindside me, stands tall and unscathed, spores drifting lazily from its cap.

  It doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

  I already know what they thinking.

  They going to do the same thing to me.

  Shit. Now I have to deal with two of them.

  The wounded one isn't down yet, still standing despite their injuries, while the fresh one is completely unscathed.

  I click my mandibles, heart racing. This isn't good. I glance toward the others—Goldy is still locked in battle with the strongest Myconid, Vex and the others are occupied, and Victor… Victor is supporting from a distance, but I know he can’t help me directly.

  No backup. I’m on my own.

  The new Myconid moves first, lunging at me with sharp, elongated fingers. I barely dodge in time, feeling the air shift as its claws slice past where I was a second ago.

  The wounded one follows up immediately, thrusting a jagged piece of my own spine at me again, aiming for my thorax. Damn it, they're working together now?!

  I twist my body mid-air, avoiding a deep hit, but the tip of the stolen spine scrapes against my side, leaving another shallow wound.

  I hit the ground and immediately roll away, trying to create distance.

  Two against one.

  I need a plan, fast.

  PFFT.

  Another burst of spores explodes in my face.

  Damn it!

  The moment it hits, my vision swims. My head spins, and my legs feel like they're moving through thick sludge.

  I shake myself violently, trying to clear it off, but it’s so much worse this time.

  The spores aren’t just blinding me—they’re muffling everything, making the whole battlefield feel distant, like I’m trapped in some kind of heavy fog.

  I can barely think, barely react—

  And I still have two of these things to deal with.

  Pain.

  A sharp, burning pain blooms in my side.

  I barely register the impact before I realize what happened—the wounded Myconid just stabbed me with the very spine it stole earlier.

  Damn it

  I hiss, my legs buckling slightly as the pain flares, but I don't even get a moment to recover—

  The other Myconid is already moving, arms raised, ready to finish me off.

  —THUNK!

  A spine flies through the air and slams into its chest, making it stagger back with a sickening squelch.

  I don’t waste the opening.

  Gritting my mandibles, I force myself to move, snapping my head toward the wounded Myconid still pressing the spine into me.

  I fire my own spine—point-blank—straight into its side.

  It chokes out a sound, its grip faltering.

  I turn, mandibles wide, ignoring the pain burning through me, and lunge at its throat.

  I slam it into the ground, my legs gripping tight as I clamp my mandibles down on its neck.

  The Myconid thrashes wildly, its limbs flailing, trying desperately to pry me off. Its body jerks and spasms, its hands scratching at my carapace, but I squeeze harder.

  Die, you motherfucker.

  A wet, sickening CRACK echoes through the battlefield.

  The struggle stops.

  With one final wrench, I rip its head clean off.

  Fungal ichor spurts from the stump, the body twitching a few more times before finally going limp beneath me.

  As I revel in my victory, a twisted sense of satisfaction bubbling in my chest, a shadow looms behind me.

  Shit.

  I forgot about the other one.

  I twist my body, but it's too late—it's already mid-lunge, arms raised.

  But before it can reach me—

  Tessa barrels into it.

  She slams into the Myconid’s side, knocking it off course before sinking her fangs into its arm.

  A guttural snarl rips from her throat as she tears into it, biting and slashing with reckless ferocity.

  Her claws rake across its body, ripping chunks of mushroom flesh free. The Myconid screeches, trying to shake her off, but she’s a whirlwind of teeth and claws, her body moving with an almost unnatural fluidity—

  Instinctive Flow.

  She dodges its flailing arms like she already knows where they’ll land, her movements seamless, brutal, efficient.

  The Myconid doesn’t stand a chance.

  I stare at her, deadpan.

  One second, she was ripping a Myconid apart like a crazed beast, and the next, she’s tilting her head at me, all smiles and wagging tail.

  "Nur, you alright?" she chirps, her voice as bubbly as ever, like she didn’t just maul something to death.

  "...Hehe, I’m alright," I mutter, shaking off the shock. "Just got a few wounds."

  Which is an understatement. My body aches, and the stab wound from earlier throbs, but I’ll live.

  Tessa wags her tail, looking way too pleased with herself, while the corpse of the Myconid lies motionless beside her, its body shredded beyond recognition.

  I glance at her, then at the battlefield still covered in floating spores. "What happened to the Myconid you were fighting earlier?"

  Tessa perks up at the question, then lifts a paw and points.

  I squint through the haze of spores, my vision still a little fuzzy from earlier. At first, I don’t see anything—just the churned-up ground and the shifting figures of our allies and enemies locked in combat.

  Then I spot it.

  A Myconid, or what’s left of it, mangled on the ground.

  Its body is twisted, torn apart, and riddled with deep claw marks and bite wounds. One of its arms is missing entirely, and its cap is cracked and leaking that weird green goo.

  I glance back at Tessa, who’s wagging her tail, looking way too cheerful for someone who just brutalized a creature to death.

  …Yeah. Remind me never to piss her off.

  I shake off the remaining spores clinging to me and turn to Victor. "What's the situation?"

  Victor, ever composed despite the chaos, responds in his usual refined tone. "Young Highness Goldy has dispatched their leader. Master Vex has successfully eliminated one of the foes and has moved on to assist the others."

  I exhale sharply. Goldy won her fight. No surprise there. But Vex? He actually handled his opponent cleanly? I half-expected him to whine about how annoying the fight was.

  That means the tide of battle is shifting in our favor.

  Still, we’ve already lost one.

  I steal a glance at the fallen Lesser Spiky Caterpillar, its small body overgrown with sprouting fungi—a grim reminder that this isn’t just some mindless brawl.

  We need to end this now.

  With their leader dead and our side gaining the upper hand, the remaining Myconids hesitate. Their movements become erratic, their formation falling apart.

  One of them suddenly turns and flees, trying to vanish into the spore-filled air. A sharp spine whistles through the air—piercing its back and pinning it to the ground. It writhes for a moment before going still.

  Another two make a desperate break for it, darting toward the darkness of the labyrinth. Victor calls out a warning, and in unison, our Spiky Caterpillar fire a volley. One is struck in the leg, tumbling forward before a second spine lands the killing blow.

  The third, however— it gets away.

  I grit my mandibles, watching its silhouette disappear into the depths of the labyrinth. One survivor. That’s bad news.

  Goldy, panting but still standing strong, looks over the battlefield. "It's over."

  For now.

  Goldy strides over to Victor, her usual enthusiasm dimmed by exhaustion and the weight of the battle.

  "Victor, the situation?" she asks, her tone serious.

  Victor bows his head slightly before answering, "Victory is ours, Young Highness. However..." His voice trails off for a moment before he continues, "We have suffered a loss. One of our own has fallen."

  Silence. Then, Vex's voice cuts through like a blade.

  "Damn it! This is on you, Victor!" he snaps, his bristles flexing in anger. "You’re supposed to be our eyes! How the hell did you let this happen?"

  Victor doesn’t flinch. He simply lowers his head further and replies calmly, "I take full responsibility. There is no excuse."

  Vex clicks his mandibles, seething. "Useless."

  That’s when Goldy snaps.

  "Enough!" she stomps forward, standing between them. "Victor already got it full, Vex! He assisted all of us! If it weren’t for his warnings and coordination, more of us would’ve fallen!"

  Vex glares at her, but Goldy doesn’t back down.

  "We lost someone, yeah. But turning on each other won't bring them back."

  Silence hangs between them, thick with tension.

  I drag the fallen caterpillar toward the group, its body still and lifeless, with mushrooms already beginning to sprout from it. The spores of the Myconids had taken root, but it didn’t matter anymore.

  The others knew what had to be done.

  As I step back, the brood moves in—mandibles clicking, bristles flexing. This was our way. The way of survival. We do not bury our dead. We consume them, to honor them, to make sure they remain with us—part of us.

  But even now, it still doesn’t sit right with me.

  So, I turn away, letting them do what needs to be done.

  That’s when I hear Tessa’s voice, confused and uneasy.

  "Nur...? What are they doing!? Why—"

  I cut her off, not turning to look at her.

  "This is the thing we do, Tessa. It always has been, ever since I hatched."

  I hear her shift beside me, uneasy, still trying to process it. But she doesn’t say anything else.

  This is just the way things are.

  After they finish cannibalizing our fallen kin, we move on to the next task—gathering the dead Myconids.

  One by one, we drag their limp bodies toward the center of the battlefield, their fungal flesh leaving behind streaks of darkened spores and greenish ichor. The air still carries the stench of battle, a mix of rot and the sharp, acidic scent of spilled fluids.

  Victor, as diligent as ever, is tending to the wounded Myconid we chose to protect. His sensitive bristles twitch as he carefully examines its condition, ensuring that it clings to life despite its injuries.

  Goldy stands at the center of it all, watching over everything, her golden body tense with both exhaustion and determination.

  The battle is over. But something tells me this is only the beginning.

  Victor, ever the meticulous one, approaches one of the fallen Myconids. Without hesitation, he tears off a chunk of its fungal flesh using his mandibles. The soft, decomposing matter squelches as he lifts it, strands of mycelium stretching before snapping apart.

  With careful precision, he places the severed piece atop the wounded Myconid we’ve been protecting.

  I watch in silence, my spines twitching with unease.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  Victor doesn’t even look up as he replies in his usual composed tone. “It requires decomposition to heal. This shall hasten the process.”

  I glance at the wounded Myconid. Even in its weakened state, its body absorbs the decaying flesh almost instantly, thin tendrils of fungal growth sprouting and wrapping around the offered piece.

  The sight is... unsettling.

  Tessa, who has been watching all this with wide eyes, suddenly shudders. “Ewwww! That’s like, super creepy!”

  Goldy, however, merely nods in understanding. “Good thinking, Victor.”

  Vex scoffs from a short distance away, still irritated from earlier, but he says nothing.

  The battlefield is quiet now. But the weight of what just happened still lingers in the air.

  Victor, after observing the wounded Myconid closely, gives a small nod. “It is recovering. It should regain consciousness soon.”

  Goldy exhales, relieved. “Good. Then while we wait, let’s help clean up… and eat.”

  At that, Tessa perks up, ears twitching in excitement. She immediately turns to me, her tail wagging. “Ohhh! Nur, do you think it’ll taste the same as mushrooms from our previous life? This is our first time eating Myconids, right?”

  I blink at her, momentarily thrown off by the sheer enthusiasm in her voice. First time? Yeah… technically, it is for me too. I’ve eaten a lot of weird things in this life, but a sentient mushroom? Not yet.

  I glance at the dead Myconids piled in the center. Their bodies, now lifeless, still emit a faint, damp, earthy scent. Not exactly the same as the edible mushrooms I remember.

  I sigh, deadpan. “I doubt it’ll be the same, Tessa.”

  Tessa, still undeterred, tilts her head. “Only one way to find out!”

  Victor, as usual, remains unfazed by the conversation. “Shall we begin, then?”

  With Goldy’s cue, the brood begins their feast. The lesser spiky caterpillars and spiky caterpillars aka spine shooters tear into the fallen Myconids without hesitation, mandibles clicking as they devour the bodies. Vex, still irritated from earlier, mutters something under his breath before digging in.

  I watch as Victor neatly pulls apart a piece of Myconid flesh, eating with his usual refined movements. Goldy, on the other hand, doesn’t hold back, tearing into a chunk of Myconid and crunching it with enthusiasm.

  Tessa, meanwhile, eyes the meal with curiosity. She sniffs at a piece before tentatively biting into it. Her ears twitch, and for a moment, she pauses. Then, suddenly, her tail wags. “Oh! It’s kinda chewy but also… juicy? It’s weird, but not bad!”

  I sigh, finally giving in, and take a bite myself. The texture is spongy but firm, and there’s an earthy, slightly bitter taste, with a strange aftertaste I can’t quite place. It’s nothing like the mushrooms I remember from our past life.

  Tessa, still munching, turns to me with bright eyes. “Nur! Nur! Do you think we can cook this somehow? Maybe roast it? What if we make soup?!”

  I stare at her, unimpressed. “We don’t even have fire.”

  She deflates for a second, but then immediately perks up again. “Then we just gotta find a way! Right, right?!”

  I shake my head, exhaling. Only Tessa could get this excited over eating a sentient mushroom.

  I glance at Tessa, who’s still wagging her tail excitedly. “Well, unless you somehow know fire magic, I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

  Tessa pauses mid-bite, tilting her head in thought. “Fire magic, huh? That’d be so cool! Maybe I should try learning it!”

  Victor, the only one who understands her, clears his throat. “My dear Miss Tessa, I do believe that mastering magic is no simple feat. One cannot simply decide to learn fire magic and expect results overnight.”

  Tessa blinks at him, then grins. “Well, I dunno how, but I’ll figure it out someday!”

  I just sigh. “Yeah, sure. You do that.”

  As we continue eating, a faint rustling sound comes from behind. The Myconid we’ve been protecting stirs, its body twitching slightly before its cap shifts. A moment later, its glowing eyes flicker open.

  Victor immediately stops what he’s doing and moves toward it. “Ah, you are awake. How do you fare?”

  The Myconid sits up sluggishly, its body still weak from injuries. It glances around, looking at he pile of its fallen kin at the center and the remains of our feast. Then, it looks at us—pausing slightly when its gaze meets Goldy’s.

  “You… helped,” its voice echoes in our heads, slow and heavy. “The Rot… lost?”

  Goldy nods firmly. “Yeah, they’re dead. Well… except for one that escaped.”

  The Myconid seems to process this, its spores releasing in a slow pulse. “Then… there is still danger.”

  As the Myconid slowly regains its strength, it suddenly speaks in our minds again, its voice echoing with urgency.

  “We must go. Now. To our leader.”

  I immediately hold up a leg. “Whoa, whoa, hold on.”

  The Myconid pauses, confused.

  “First of all, introduce yourself. Second, you’re still injured.” I grab a piece of a fallen Myconid from the pile and toss it toward it. “Eat this first, recover.”

  The Myconid hesitates for a moment, then reluctantly picks up the flesh and starts absorbing it.

  “And third,” I continue, crossing my front legs, “explain what the hell is going on.”

  The Myconid takes a moment, its body pulsating slightly as it absorbs the nutrients. Then, with a slow, deliberate tone, it speaks in our minds once more.

  “I am Sairn, a member of the Sporehaven faction.”

  End of Chapter 22