"I am Sairn, a member of the Sporehaven faction," the wounded Myconid states, their voice echoing in our minds as spores drift through the air.

  I exchange glances with Goldy, Victor, and the others. The name Sporehaven doesn’t ring any bells, but considering the situation, it’s clear there’s more going on here than just a simple internal Myconid dispute.

  Sairn takes a shaky step forward, their form still weak but visibly stabilizing from feeding on the remains of their fallen kin. “There is no time… we must go, quickly. Our leader—our last hope—needs your help.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Hold up. We’re not moving until you explain things properly.”

  I grab another chunk of the dead Myconid and toss it toward them. “Eat first. You’re barely standing.”

  Sairn hesitates, but ultimately obeys, pressing the flesh against their body as it absorbs into him. Their form pulses again, regaining a bit more vitality.

  "Alright, talk. What the hell is going on?" I demand.

  Sairn shakes his head. “Please, listen to me, there’s no time. The Rot will return soon—with reinforcements. We won’t stand a chance.” Their spores carry an urgent, almost desperate tone. “Come with me. Our leader will explain everything.”

  Goldy crosses her front legs, her red-glowing spines flexing slightly. “Tch, running doesn’t sit right with me. We just fought our way through them.”

  Vex clicks his mandibles. “For once, I agree. We just wrecked their squad, and now you’re telling me we have to run?”

  Victor, ever the voice of reason, speaks up. “Should the assertions of Sairn possess truth, then it would be most imprudent to remain here. We find ourselves in naught but a poor condition to engage in yet another skirmish.”

  I glance around. We’re tired, wounded, and just lost one of our own. Even Goldy, for all her bravado, doesn’t look as energetic as usual. Damn it.

  I exhale sharply. “Fine. But you better hope your leader has some damn good answers.”

  Sairn nods, their spores carrying relief. “Then follow me. Quickly.”

  With that, we move, leaving behind the battlefield of fallen remains of Myconids and one of our own. The echoes of our fight still linger in my mind.

  Journey Into the deepest part of the zone

  Sairn led us forward, deeper into the 3rd Zone than we had ever gone before. The air grew heavier, thick with moisture and an overwhelming scent of rot and earth. Fungal growths pulsed faintly along the cavern walls, casting an eerie glow that barely illuminated our path.

  Victor walked near the front, his sensitive bristles twitching as he scanned for movement. Goldy remained close, her golden silk occasionally shimmering in the dim light. Vex, as usual, muttered complaints about following a Myconid, while Tessa padded beside me, ears perked, alert for threats.

  Then, as expected, some monsters appear.

  A Chitinous Beast bursts from the fungal undergrowth—a hulking creature covered in jagged black plates, its mouth filled with writhing, needle-like teeth. It lunges, but we are ready.

  Goldy detonates her spines, blasting the creature’s side and making it screech in pain. Vex and I move in tandem—he spits his venomous acid at its exposed flank while I shoot a sharp spine straight into its eye. It thrashes, but Tessa pounces like a blur, her "Instinctive Flow" activating as she rips its throat out in a flurry of teeth and claws. The creature falls with a heavy thud.

  Another ambush comes not long after. This time, Burrowing Striders—insectoid predators with elongated limbs and razor-edged mandibles. They swarm from the walls, but the Spiky Caterpillars rain projectiles upon them before they can close in. Victor barks out warnings just in time for Goldy to react, using her golden silk to trip one mid-leap, allowing Vex to impale it with his spines.

  The fights continue as we press deeper. The farther we go, the stronger the creatures become, as if the very zone itself rejects outsiders. But we are prepared—wounded, yes, but not weak.

  After what feels like hours, we finally see it.

  A massive, hollowed-out fungal cavern, glowing with bioluminescent spores. Strange, towering mushroom structures form walls, woven with thick silk-like strands that act as both defensive barriers and camouflage. The air here is cool and damp, filled with a thick spore fog that limits visibility.

  Sairn turns to us, their body sagging with exhaustion. “We’re here. This… is Sporehaven.”

  We stand at the entrance, breathing heavily, our bodies sore from the journey. Even Goldy, for all her usual energy, looks winded.

  Tessa lets out a long sigh, stretching her small wolf-like body. “Finally! That took forever,” she huffs, flopping onto the damp ground.

  Goldy slumps down beside her brood, her usual excitement momentarily dimmed by exhaustion. “That was a lot more walking than I expected,” she admits, though a grin still lingers on her face. The other caterpillars, too, settle down, relieved to have reached safety at last.

  Meanwhile, Victor remains standing, his bristles twitching as he takes in the strange, bioluminescent cavern. “Fascinating indeed… Such a most delicate ecosystem, ensconced beneath the tumult of the world above. The architecture of these silken barriers doth imply a most sagacious application of fungal proliferation.—”

  Vex scoffs. “Save the admiration for later, fancy boy.” He turns to Sairn, narrowing his glowing eyes. “We didn’t fight our way down here just to stare at mushrooms. Take us to your leader already.”

  Sairn, still weary but determined, gives a slow nod. “Follow me. Our leader will explain everything.”

  Without another word, they leads us deeper into Sporehaven, vanishing into the glowing mist.

  We step into a vast chamber, the air thick with spores and the soft glow of bioluminescent fungi casting eerie shadows on the cavern walls.

  At the center of it all sits a Myconid unlike any other we’ve seen before.

  It has a wide, thick mushroom cap that droops slightly, partially covering its face. From beneath the cap, faintly glowing blue eyes peer at us, half-lidded in what seems like deep thought. Its body is covered in thick fungal growths resembling a bear’s fur, giving it an aged, wise appearance.

  In one of its long, tendril-like hands, it holds a gnarled staff, covered in patches of fungus that pulse softly, as if alive. Its equally long, root-like feet curl gently against the large mushroom cap it uses as a throne.

  The Myconid is humming, a low, reverberating sound that seems to resonate with the entire cavern itself. The pulses on its staff flicker in rhythm with its voice, creating an almost hypnotic effect.

  Then, as if sensing our presence, it abruptly stops humming.

  The pulsing of the staff ceases.

  Silence fills the chamber as the Myconid finally turns its full attention toward us.

  The air seems to vibrate as a deep, echoing voice resonates through the chamber—not spoken, but implanted directly into our minds through spores.

  "Welcome, travelers. I am Ypal, leader of Sporehaven."

  I staggers, feeling the weight of their presence pressing down on us. Their voice isn’t just words—it carries authority, a kind of old, rooted power, like something that has been part of the earth for centuries.

  In my head, though?

  Well, no shit.

  With the way their aura practically flooded the entire chamber, not to mention the mystical staff and elder-vibes, it was pretty obvious this guy is in charge.

  Not to mention that unique look—the massive mushroom cap, the furry fungal growths, and those glowing eyes practically screamed “ancient wise leader”.

  Yeah, no kidding, old man. You look like a final boss in a game.

  Of course, I didn’t say any of that out loud. I just stood there, keeping my expression neutral, while Tessa looked around in awe, Victor examined the environment like a scholar, and Vex tapped his mandibles, clearly impatient.

  Goldy, standing firm at the front, gave a small nod. "Alright, Ypal. We’re here. Now explain—what the hell is going on?"

  Ypal’s voice echoed through our minds once more, carrying the weight of something ancient and sorrowful.

  "You have seen the decay. The corruption that festers within the depths. The Rot."

  Victor, who had been quietly observing the chamber, finally spoke up in his usual refined manner. “Verily, I have observed the foul blight pervading this realm. A most unearthly spectacle, I do declare."

  Ypal gave a slow, solemn nod.

  Goldy crossed her front legs, clearly unimpressed. "Alright, old shroom. We get that it’s bad, but what exactly are the Rot? What are we dealing with?"

  A low hum vibrated through the chamber, as if the very air was responding to Ypal’s thoughts.

  "It began with the death of our emperor."

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Everyone grew silent, listening intently as the elder myconid continued.

  "Once, we thrived in harmony, our voices humming together in perfect balance. The Great Chorus of Syrrath sang within us, guiding our existence in unity."

  "But then, one among us stepped forward… a myconid unlike the others. Their form was twisted, rotting, sickly, yet it carried an artifact—a relic of unknown origin."

  I felt a chill run through me.

  "With a single pulse of energy, it shattered the balance. Our emperor, the heart of our people, rotted from within and died before our very eyes."

  The air grew thick with tension as Ypal’s words echoed through the chamber.

  Then—chaos.

  A wave of raw, unfiltered memory crashed into me, like I was being dragged into a past that wasn’t mine.

  The world shifted.

  Everything was wrong.

  I saw them—myconids running, panicking, their spores clouding the air in distress. Some fell, their bodies shriveling as rot consumed them from within. Others tried to fight, only for their attacks to be in vain.

  And then, it appeared.

  A figure stepped through the decay, moving with an eerie calm. A black myconid, their body laced with red streaks, pulsing like veins filled with something unholy and crimson spores swirling around them.

  Unlike the others, they weren't fleeing.

  They weren't afraid.

  They walked forward, unbothered by the corruption, approaching the rotting myconid that had started it all.

  The black myconid moved with terrifying speed, their arm twisting and shifting into a jagged blade-like appendage.

  A burst of crimson spores filled the air as they lunged, cutting through the chaos like a specter of death.

  The rotting myconid—the one who had unleashed the artifact’s power—panicked, raising the cursed relic in their trembling hands. A pulse of energy shot out, a desperate attempt to stop the advancing figure.

  It hit.

  The black myconid staggered, just slightly, their body momentarily flickering like they were resisting some unseen force.

  But they didn’t stop.

  They pressed forward, undeterred.

  Then—a flash of movement.

  Their blade-arm cleaved downward, a swift, merciless strike.

  The rotting myconid raised their arm to block—

  Too late.

  With one clean slice, the rotting myconid's limb were severed, a spray of sickly green and black fluids splattering against the cavern walls.

  The rotting myconid trembled, desperation in their movements as they clutched the artifact, trying to draw out more of its power. But now—nothing.

  The once-potent energy barely flickered, its strength drained.

  The black myconid didn't hesitate.

  The crimson spores swirling around it suddenly surged forward, latching onto the rotting myconid like living parasites.

  They let out a horrid, wet gasp as black mushrooms erupted from its body, spreading rapidly. The fungal growth twisted and pulsed, draining the last remnants of their life.

  The rotting myconid shriveled, their body collapsing in on themselves, the last of their strength stolen away.

  By the time they hit the ground, they were nothing more than a dried husk, overgrown with twisting black fungi.

  The vision faded, like spores carried away by the wind.

  I blinked, shaking off the lingering sense of unease. We were back.

  Ypal sat before us once more, his staff pulsing faintly as if in rhythm with his breath.

  Goldy, still tensed from what we just saw, was the first to speak. “What the hell was that?”

  Victor, ever composed despite the grim sight, muttered, “A memory… A witness to the past.”

  Vex scoffed, his bristles slightly raised. “Tch. Great. So now we know some black mushroom freak took out the one who started all this.”

  I crossed my mandibles, still piecing everything together. That black myconid—who was them? And more importantly… where is them now?

  Ypal’s voice echoed, calm yet heavy with history. "That myconid has no name. They were once part of our colony but chose to leave us."

  They tapped their staff, and the pulsating light briefly flared before dimming again.

  "We myconids have a certain evolution that keeps us tied to our colonies," they continued. "We start as Fungal Spawn, born from our reproductive spores. Then we grow into Myconid Buds before maturing into Myconid Workers. From there, we evolve into our advanced stages."

  I deadpanned in my thoughts. Yeah, no kidding. This guy practically screamed ‘advanced’ with the way he carried himself.

  Victor, always the curious one, adjusted his posture and spoke in his refined tone. "And what of the black myconid?"

  Ypal’s fungal tendrils flexed slightly. "That is a Myconid Reaper. Unlike the rest of us, they are independent from the colony. A Myconid Worker can evolve into one when they develop a will of their own and choose to break away from the harmony of the collective."

  That made me pause. A Myconid that willingly severed itself from the hive mind? That was... unsettling.

  Victor muttered, "Fascinating..." his bristles quivering slightly in intrigue.

  Before he could ask more, Vex scoffed and cut in, his voice sharp. "Yeah, yeah, that’s nice and all, but what does this have to do with anything?" His mandibles clicked in irritation. "That guy beat the rotting fellow, right? So why the hell are you guys still having problems?"

  Ypal exhaled, a low, reverberating hum. "Because the rot did not die with him."

  That sent a chill down my thorax.

  Ypal’s voice hummed with a deep, echoing resonance. "That chaos was merely the beginning of our division. With our emperor gone, a new one had to rise."

  They paused, their long, tendril-like fingers tightening around his staff. "That is where the true problem arose. I volunteered myself to ascend as emperor, to carry the will of the previous ruler—to keep peace and balance within our colony."

  Their gaze slowly shifted toward Goldy, his glowing fungal eyes unreadable. "In other words, I sought to continue our peace contract with your species."

  Goldy tilted her head, her golden body tense as she processed his words. "But… something went wrong, didn't it?"

  Ypal let out a slow, heavy sigh. "Yes… One of our Myconid Wardens, Orbed, thought otherwise."

  Their glowing eyes dimmed slightly as they continued. "Orbed believed our kind had stagnated, that we had spent too long clinging to balance and harmony. They saw the fall of our emperor not as a tragedy, but as an opportunity. To them, it was time for Myconids to expand—to claim the entire Third Zone as our own."

  Goldy frowned. "So he wanted to conquer everything?"

  Ypal gave a solemn nod. "Yes. They rallied those who agreed with their vision, claiming that our survival depended on dominance, not peace."

  Victor folded his bristled legs in thought. "And I assume the ones who followed them became… the Rot?"

  Ypal’s fingers tightened around their staff, the fungal growths pulsating softly. "Indeed. Orbed sought power wherever they could find it. And in their ambition… they turned to something far worse than mere conquest."

  Ypal's voice grew heavy, almost strained. "The worst part is… Orbed found a way to use the artifact as a tool for their conquest. He named their faction ‘The Rot.’"

  A quiet stillness settled in the chamber. The distant hum of Myconids working and the occasional dripping of moisture were the only sounds.

  Victor’s mandibles clicked thoughtfully. "And what exactly is this artifact?"

  Ypal shook their head. "I do not know its origins. Only that it carries an unnatural power—one that spreads corruption and decay. Orbed has learned to harness it, twisting Myconids into something unnatural. The ones you fought… they were once our kin. Now, they are nothing more than vessels of their will."

  Goldy gritted her mandibles. "And if we let them keep spreading?"

  Ypal's tendril-like fingers tightened around his staff. "Then everything—Myconid, insect, beast—will fall under Orbed’s rule. The Third Zone will become nothing but Rot."

  Goldy let out a nervous chuckle. "Oof… Mother’s definitely not gonna like hearing that."

  Ypal gave a slow nod. "I would assume so. I have met your mother before—the fearsome Moth Queen of the Northern part of the 5th Zone. Her power was comparable, if not superior, to our Myconid Emperor."

  Goldy puffed up with pride. "Hehe, yup! She’s the strongest!"

  Victor, ever the curious one, tilted his head. "Fascinating. When did this meeting occur?"

  Ypal hummed in thought. "Long ago, when balance still reigned in this zone. We Myconids and your Queen had an understanding—we did not threaten each other’s domains, and in return, we shared knowledge. But that peace is fragile now."

  Vex scoffed. "So what? You expect us to go running to Mother and tell her to fix your mess?"

  Ypal’s glowing eyes dimmed slightly. “No… this is our burden to bear. But if Orbed’s Rot continues unchecked, none of us will have a home left to protect. Even if we wished to seek your Queen’s aid, we Myconids cannot survive long in the Fifth Zone—its plant-beasts would devour us before we made it halfway. And your brood, formidable as they are, would never reach her in time.”

  Tessa suddenly perked up, tail wagging slightly. "Ohhh, Mama Wolf(God rest her soul) taught me that!" She grinned in her usual bubbly way. "Apparently, Myconids and plant monsters have major beef with each other!"

  Nur blinked, deadpan. "Tessa, that sounds way too cheerful for a literal beef between fungi and plants."

  Tessa tilted her head. "But it is interesting, right?"

  Ypal chuckled softly. "That is… one way to put it."

  Ypal shook their head. “That is irrelevant to our current issue.”

  Their voice grew heavier, echoing through the chamber. “I ask for your assistance. If The Rot is left unchecked, they will expand… and eventually, the Moth Queen’s territory in this zone.”

  Goldy’s spines twitched. “Oof. Mother’s really not gonna like that.”

  Victor nodded. “A most lamentable circumstance, indeed. Should The Rot expand its grasp, it shall not halt at the mere consumption of Myconids. It will imperil the equilibrium of the entire vicinity.”

  Vex scoffed. “So what, you want us to do something about it? Sounds like a you problem.”

  Ypal remained calm. “It is an ‘us’ problem. We Myconids cannot resist The Rot alone, and you, in turn, cannot afford to ignore this threat. If we fall, your brood will be next. And if your brood falls, your Queen will be forced into war.”

  Tessa tilted her head. “So you’re saying we team up?”

  Ypal nodded solemnly. “That is the only way forward.”

  Victor raised a thoughtful question. “Pray, what of the Black Myconid? Surely, if they were once capable of extinguishing the source of the Rot, they might yet lend their assistance in this endeavor once more?”

  Ypal sighed, their voice carrying a hint of regret. “The Reaper was injured during the battle. Though they managed to slay the first Rot-born, they were not unscathed. The infection clung to them, festering. In their weakened state, they left for the surface in search of a cure.”

  Goldy’s mandibles clicked. “Wait, the surface? As in… outside the labyrinth?”

  Ypal nodded. “Indeed. What happens to our colony is no longer their concern. The Reaper severed ties with us long ago. Their battle against the Rot was not for our sake, but their own reasons.”

  Vex scoffed. “So much for ‘balance’ or whatever.”

  Ypal closed their yes, seemingly unaffected by Vex’s remark. “Regardless, we cannot depend on them. Our battle is our own.”

  I looked at Ypal, the weight of the situation sinking in. “So, what’s the plan?”

  Ypal's long, tendril-like fingers shifted as they prepared to explain. “Orbed’s ultimate goal is to ascend to the title of Myconid Emperor. This cannot be achieved through mere strength or battle tactics. It requires a ritual, one rooted deep in the traditions of our kind. To become an Emperor, one must complete a sacred rite. The ritual involves key figures of the advanced Myconids, as well as a group of 30 lesser Myconids. They are the foundation, the blood of the ritual.”

  They paused, letting their words sink in. “I... have one of the key figures for Orbed to perform the ritual. Without them, they cannot ascend. But if they succeeds, they will become a power capable of destroying everything in his path, including you and your kind.”

  The atmosphere in the room grew tense. The pieces were falling into place, but the path ahead was unclear.

  Ypal's voice grew more deliberate, their eyes locking onto each of us as he continued. “Which is why I am using this as an advantage, this individual, they hold significant power. They are the cornerstone of the ritual. If I can prevent Orbed from gaining them, their ritual will falter. Without them, their path to becoming Emperor is impossible. I plan to use this advantage to stop theem—before their forces grow too powerful.”

  They looked at us all, their expression serious. “This is the only way to halt Orbed and the Rot from consuming everything in their path. But I cannot do this alone. I need your help to secure the key figures and keep them from falling into his hands.”

  The weight of their words hung in the air. The stakes were higher than we had thought, and it seemed like our involvement would be crucial in this battle for survival.

  Ypal's tone softened, their eyes briefly flickering to the weary faces around the room. “Before we discuss any more plans or strategies, you should rest,” they advised. “You’ve all traveled far and fought hard. It’s only right you regain your strength before moving forward. Eat, rest, and when you are ready, we will go over everything in detail.”

  The suggestion felt like a small relief, and everyone visibly relaxed. Goldy and the others looked worn out from the journey and battles. Even Vex, who rarely showed any sign of fatigue, seemed to acknowledge the need for a break.

  Tessa, always quick to find the bright side, grinned and stretched, her tail swishing behind her. "I could totally go for a nap and some food!" she chirped, already moving towards a corner where some supplies were gathered.

  Victor, looking contemplative, nodded. "Indeed, a period of respite doth appear most requisite. We have scarcely found an opportunity to regain our breath."

  Goldy smiled, the tension in her posture easing. “Agreed. After everything, a little break is well earned.”

  With that, we all settled into a brief respite, knowing that the challenge ahead would require our full strength.

  End of Chapter 23