Deep in the eastern side of the third zone’s lowest depths, we crouch in the shadows of the massive fungal growths. The terrain is damp, pulsing with a faint bioluminescent glow, and the air hums with unseen movement.

  Beside me, Goldy coils slightly, her red-tipped spines shifting as she remains tense. Tessa, still for once, watches the prison ahead with narrowed eyes. A Spiky Caterpillar sibling twitches, his sharp protrusions flexing instinctively. Sairn, always unreadable, waits in complete stillness. The three Myconids with us, two myconid combatants named Astor and Lypor and a smaller, watchful Myconid Mender named Gyldis, blend seamlessly into the fungal terrain.

  I watch the slow drift of spores moving toward the prison, their flow steady and controlled.

  There it is. The unseen web of communication, linking the prison to its guards. Ypal had explained this to us—a Myconid Warden’s ability to transmit information across their controlled spores. A lesser Warden could only use this in short bursts, but Orbed? An old and experienced Warden like him could do this on a scale that would make breaking into his prison hell.

  Anyway, Ypal also mentioned something about the ritual—something I didn’t pay enough attention to at the time.

  Following a night of restful sleep—courtesy of Ypal’s ever-so-gracious hospitality—we reconvened at the strategy table, where optimism was scarce and opinions, unfortunately, weren’t.

  “For a Myconid to evolve into an Emperor, they must undergo a ritual—one that requires four key Advanced Myconid figures. These are the Guardian, the Sporecaster, the Sage, and the Warden.”

  They paused, letting the weight of their words settle.

  “Since Orbed is already a Warden, they does not need another. They only requires the remaining three.”

  So, it wasn’t just about being strong or gathering followers—it was about fulfilling specific conditions. No matter how skilled Orbed was, without the right pieces in place, they couldn’t complete his ascension.

  That meant… we had a chance to stop them.

  I shifted slightly, preparing to listen more closely. This was about to get interesting.

  “The same goes for me,” Ypal continued, their glowing eyes steady. “To ascend, I need the key Myconids as well. So far, we have a Guardian on our side, while Orbed lacks one. However, they already has a Sporecaster and a Sage—one of whom was once under my command.”

  That last part carried weight, though Ypal didn’t dwell on it. I didn’t either. What mattered now was what came next.

  “We need to free the Myconids Orbed has imprisoned. They already has a Sporecaster and a Sage, meaning we cannot allow him to gain a Guardian. But for me to ascend, I need a Warden and a Sporecaster—both of whom Orbed is holding captive.”

  I exchanged glances with my brood. It was clear what this meant. A rescue mission.

  “Our priority is to locate and free these key Myconids before Orbed strengthens their forces further.” Ypal’s tone was firm, commanding. “We act before they can complete his ascension. Otherwise, we will be facing a Myconid Emperor of conquest, not balance.”

  They paused again, eyes scanning the group, making sure he had our full attention.

  “Now, for our plans—”

  Plans are one thing. Reality is another. And now, here we are—right where Ypal said we’d need to be.

  Alright, Phase 1 should be happening right now. What's a Phase 1 you ask?

  As per Ypal's plan, further up and to the east, Victor and his team should be in position. His task? Guarding and watching over the five Myconids working to intercept Orbed’s signals. If they succeed, we would have a short window where the prison's alerts were delayed, giving us the best chance to breach without reinforcements overwhelming us.

  Then Phase 2.

  That’s us—Goldy’s group. The ones storming the prison and breaking the captives free. This is a high-risk, involving a lot of fighting, which is why Ypal had sent us, their strongest. The three Myconids with us aren’t just any ordinary ones—two of them are Combatants, built for battle, while the third is a Mender, a rare type specialized in healing.

  Everything hinges on Victor’s team now.

  I keep my eyes locked ahead, waiting for the signal.

  No mistakes. No hesitation. We only get one shot at this.

  I glance at Sairn, something nagging at the back of my mind. Wait a second. If we’re disrupting the spores, wouldn’t Orbed notice that the communication to the prison has been cut off? Wouldn’t he just send reinforcements immediately?

  “Sairn,” I murmur, keeping my voice low. “Won’t Orbed realize something’s off the moment his spores stop flowing properly?”

  Sairn tilts their head slightly, as if amused that I even asked. “Yes. Were you not paid attention to Ypal earlier? The five Myconid workers involved are not ordinary workers.” He pauses, then adds, “Such as myself.”

  I narrow my eyes. What’s that supposed to mean?

  “These Myconids specialize in tending spores,” they continues. “That makes them particularly suited to not only disrupt—but to send altered spores.”

  I blink. “Altered?”

  Sairn gives a slow nod. “Rather than simply cutting off communication, we are feeding Orbed false signals. To them, everything will seem normal. At least for a time.”

  Huh. I exhale, my tension easing slightly. “Alright. That’s... clever.”

  Sairn doesn’t respond, just returning their gaze to the prison. I follow their lead, watching the flow of spores drifting through the air, still moving—but now, subtly wrong.

  If Orbed didn’t realize it in time... this might actually work.

  Sairn suddenly hums. “Speaking of the devil... the spores are shifting.”

  I squint at the air, trying to see what they means. It looks exactly the same to me. “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Positive.” Sairn crosses his arms. “Phase 1 is commencing.”

  I glance at the others, but no one reacts much. I don’t see anything particularly different—just the same faint glow of spores drifting lazily through the air.

  Oh. Right. Sairn literally said the Myconids handling this were specialized in spore tending like a second ago. Of course I wouldn’t see it.

  Now it makes sense why Sairn is here with us. It’s definitely not for combat. Let’s be real—Sairn is ass in a fight. No wonder when we first met, they were like half-dead.

  They're here to confirm that Phase 1 is going smoothly.

  Goldy twitches her antennae. "Alright, should we move now?"

  I smirk. "I don’t know, you tell me, boss."

  Goldy puffs up, clearly pleased with the title. “Hah! That’s right, I am the boss!” She raises her front legs dramatically before lowering them. “But uh… seriously, do we move now?”

  I just stare at her. Unbelievable.

  Sairn shakes their head. “Not yet. But we should get ready.”

  The three Myconids shift slightly, their forms tensing. Even without words, their presence radiates an undeniable intensity, clearly aura farming.

  Tessa perks up, ears flicking as her tail sways in anticipation. Meanwhile, one of our Spiky Caterpillar siblings flexes his spines, the sharp protrusions bristling as if already preparing to skewer anything in his path.

  I take a deep breath. Alright. Phase 2 is coming. Time to be ready.

  Then there it is, Sairn suddenly straightens. "Phase 1 is complete, let's move—now."

  Before I can even react, the Myconid Combatants launch forward. Astor extends their limbs like writhing tendrils, latching onto a nearby Myconid Worker, who guarding the prison from outside. With a sickening crack, it whips the poor thing into the ground—once, twice—until it's reduced to a splattered mess of fungal pulp.

  The other Combatant, Lypor lunges straight at another guard, their claws tearing through the mycelium flesh with terrifying ease. In one swift motion, they rips off the Myconid’s head, leaving the lifeless body to crumple.

  Goldy and Tessa, wide-eyed but grinning, exclaim in unison:

  "Whoa!"

  Then Sairn steps back slightly, nodding to themselves. "I'll stay here and maintain communication with Phase 1 group. If anything goes wrong, I'll warn you immediately."

  Well, no shit, Sairn. What else would you be doing? Charging in and fighting? Yeah, right.

  Goldy nods at Sairn, acknowledging their role, then turns to us with a determined gleam in her purple eyes. "Alright, let's move!"

  With that, she takes the lead, and we surge forward, storming into the prison. The entrance is a narrow tunnel lined with glowing fungal growths, and as we push through, the space opens into a dimly lit chamber. The air is thick with spores, and the walls pulse faintly with a sickly green hue.

  Standing inside are several Myconid Workers—though, judging by their posture and the crude weapons in their hands, they're more like guards than laborers. Their caps tilt slightly in surprise at our sudden appearance. One of them frantically turns to another and mutters something before sprinting off down another passage.

  Oh? Calling reinforcements? I got some bad news for you, bud. I don’t think that’s gonna work.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Goldy wastes no time. As one of the guards raises its spore-coated club to strike, she spits a thick strand of golden silk, wrapping around its cap and covering its eyes. The Myconid staggers, swiping at the sticky silk in a blind panic.

  Thwip! Thwip!

  Two of her spines shoot out, embedding themselves in the distracted guard’s chest. It stumbles back, colliding with another Myconid behind it—

  BOOM!

  The explosion sends chunks of fungal flesh and a thick burst of spores into the air. The other guards flinch, momentarily stunned.

  Damn. So much for subtlety.

  Well, I can't just stand by and watch, can I?

  I charge forward, my bristles flexing, preparing to strike. One of the Myconid guards recovers, lunging at me with a jagged piece of bark fashioned into a crude blade. I twist my body, my spines scraping against the weapon as I dart low, then snap!—I clamp my mandibles around its arm. The guard lets out a garbled hiss as I yank, tearing off a chunk of fungal flesh.

  Before it can react, a blur of gray fur leaps past me.

  "Rrrah!"

  Tessa barrels into the guard, using her speed to bowl it over. She lands on top, her claws digging into its chest as she snaps at its neck. With a sharp crunch, the guard stops moving.

  I barely have time to process before another enemy charges me—

  Shlunk!

  A sharp spine erupts from its side. The Spiky Caterpillar sibling retracts its spine, clicking its mandibles. “Gotcha.”

  More guards begin pouring in from the tunnels ahead, alerted by the chaos.

  "Alright, we need to move as we fight," Goldy says, glancing around at the remaining guards. "It’ll take forever if we just stand here clearing them all out."

  She’s right. The longer we stall, the more time Orbed’s forces have to react.

  Tessa leaps off the downed guard and lands beside me, panting. “Then let’s go already!”

  Goldy spits another silk,, latching onto the ceiling, and swings forward, leading the charge. The two Myconid Combatants follow closely, their bodies shifting as they prepare for more violence.

  I scuttle forward, dodging a wild swing from another guard. It lunges at me, but before it can strike—

  Thwip!

  Goldy's silk wraps around its arm, pulling it off balance. That’s all the opening I need. I flex my bristles and shlunk, stab my spines into its side. It spasms, but I don’t stop to finish it off.

  "We’re moving!" I shout.

  Tessa darts ahead, dodging between the guards with quick, instinctive movements, her "Instinctive Flow" skill making her nearly untouchable. The Spiky Caterpillar sibling covers our flank, shooting his spines to keep the guards at bay.

  A Myconid Worker—armed with a sharpened bone—blocks our path ahead. Before I can react, one of the Combatants lunges, wrapping a tendril around its throat and crack!—snapping it in one brutal motion.

  The tunnel ahead is clear for now.

  Goldy glances back. "Let’s keep going! The prisoners won’t free themselves!"

  Then there we reach—the prison area. Cells covered in hardened fungus line the walls, dimly illuminated by bioluminescent spores drifting through the air. Inside them, Myconids huddle together, their glowing eyes filled with exhaustion and wariness.

  Before I can react, pain explodes in my side.

  A spear strikes me, the jagged fungal tip digging deep into my body. I barely register the impact before three hulking Myconids step forward, each one larger than the guards we fought before. Their ridged caps and thick, reinforced limbs mark them as elite warriors—stronger, faster, deadlier.

  Gritting my mandibles, I yank the spear out with a wet squelch. A sharp wave of pain shoots through me, but I refuse to falter.

  Gyldis rushes to my side, pressing their glowing hands against my wound. A cool, tingling sensation spreads through me, replacing the pain with an almost ticklish feeling.

  "Stay still," the Mender says, voice calm but firm. "You'll be no good to the others if you fall here."

  Goldy hisses, flexing her spines. "Tch, damn it! We don’t have time for this!"

  Tessa crouches low, eyes locked onto the new enemies, her tail swaying in anticipation. The Spiky Caterpillar sibling beside me flexes his bristles, ready to strike.

  The three Hulking Myconids stand between us and the prisoners.

  And they aren’t moving aside.

  The Myconid Combatants tense up, their fungal bodies shifting as they ready themselves. One of them growls, "Myconid Ironbarks... be careful. They are Advanced Myconids like us."

  Ironbarks, huh? That explains the size and the dense, bark-like armor covering their bodies. Unlike the flimsy Workers from before, these guys are built like walking fortresses.

  One of the Ironbarks steps forward, its glowing eyes narrowing at us. "Intruders," it rumbles, voice deep and slow like the creaking of old wood. "You will not leave this place."

  Goldy clicks her mandibles, clearly frustrated. "Yeah? Watch us." She spits a web of golden silk toward the lead Ironbark, aiming to bind its movements, but the Myconid reacts fast—too fast. With a powerful lurch, it raises a thick, bark-covered arm and swipes through the silk before it can fully wrap around its body.

  Tessa darts to the side, circling them, her body low to the ground. "They’re slow but they’re strong and smart," she mutters.

  Goldy clicks her mandibles and raises her voice over the tense air. "Alright! Tessa and Myconid Combatants you’re with me! While Nur and others , free the prisoners!"

  Tessa lets out a sharp bark and darts forward, weaving between the lumbering Myconids. The two Myconid Combatants follow suit, their bodies shifting as they prepare for the brutal fight ahead.

  I don’t stick around to watch—I’ve got my own job to do. Scuttling toward one of the prison cells, I sink my mandibles into the hardened fungus sealing it shut. I bite down as hard as I can, feeling my fangs sink in, but—dang. This stuff is tough. I manage to rip off a chunk, but at this rate, it’s gonna take forever.

  Gyldis steps up beside me, placing a hand on the fungal seal. Their fingers glow faintly, and within moments, the once-solid material begins to soften and rot away. "Now," they say, voice calm yet urgent.

  I dig in again, this time easily tearing the weakened material apart. My Spiky Caterpillar sibling joins me, using their spines like crude saws to help cut through the remaining bits.

  One cell down. Dozens to go.

  We keep at it, moving from one cell to the next. The Mender softens the hardened fungus, and Spiky and I rip it apart. My mandibles ache from the repeated effort, but I grit through it—there’s no time to slow down.

  In the background, I hear the clash of battle, Goldy’s excited shouts, Tessa’s rapid movements, and the heavy strikes of the Myconid Combatants. We just have to move faster.

  I glance around at the freed prisoners—so far, all I see are regular Myconid Buds and Workers. No Sporecasters, no Wardens, no Advanced Myconids at all. This isn’t right.

  I scuttle over to one of the freed prisoners, a Myconid Worker rubbing their wrists where the hardened fungus once restrained them. “Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low but firm. “Where are the Advanced Myconids? The Sporecasters and Wardens? We’re here to break them out, but I don’t see any.”

  The Worker stiffens, hesitating for a moment before shaking their head. “They’re not here,” they finally say. “The Warden keep them in a deeper section of the prison. Only those deemed ‘non-threatening’ are kept in this area. The others... they’re somewhere worse.”

  My stomach drops. Great. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

  Well, I guess we have to press on deeper. No way we’re leaving without the Advanced Myconids. If we don’t, Orbed will still have the advantage.

  I turn to the freed prisoners, my mandibles clicking. "Alright, listen up. Follow this path and get to the exit. Our ally, Sairn, is waiting there. Tell him we’re moving deeper to find the Advanced Myconids.”

  One of the Myconid Workers hesitates, their bioluminescent spots dimming slightly as they shift uncomfortably. "Deeper? That’s dangerous," they murmur. "I heard one of the officers is stationed there."

  I freeze for a split second. An officer? That complicates things.

  Goldy and the Myconid Combatants are still locked in combat with the Ironbarks, the sounds of their battle echoing in the prison chamber. Tessa dashes between their legs, slicing with her claws, while Goldy’s golden silk glimmers in the dim light as she weaves around her enemies, setting up traps.

  I turn back to the prisoner. "We don’t have a choice," I say firmly. "If we leave them behind, Orbed will still hold power. We break them out now, or we risk losing everything.”

  The Myconid Worker glances at the others, then nods reluctantly. "Understood. We’ll deliver the message."

  As they start moving toward the exit, I exchange glances with the Spiky Caterpillar sibling and the Myconid Mender. “Alright,” I mutter. “Deeper it is. Stay alert.”

  Then I turn to Spiky, "Alright, Spiky, let’s help Goldy and the others. Like usual, you cover us and shoot your spines. And you"—I nod toward Gyldis—"take care of the injured ones. Keep them standing."

  Spiky suddenly twitches, his bristles rattling with surprise. "Spiky? Did you just… give me a name, Nur!?"

  I freeze for half a second. Oh. Oh no. I did.

  "Uhh— Yes. That’s your name now. Whatever. Let’s go!" I blurt out and rush forward before he can say anything else, pretending I totally meant to do that.

  Behind me, Spiky makes a weird clicking noise, clearly flustered. "H-Hold on! You can’t just—! Ugh, never mind!" He huffs, but I hear the sharp shhk! of his spines flexing, ready to fire. Good.

  No time for this. The battle ahead is still in full swing. Goldy and Tessa are clashing with the Myconid Ironbarks, their movements a blur of silk, claws, and exploding spines. The Myconid Combatants fight with brutal efficiency, hacking away at their enemies with limbs like hardened clubs, while the Ironbarks counter with heavy, bark-like armor that cracks but doesn’t break easily.

  One of the Ironbarks swings a massive, gnarled limb at Tessa, who barely dodges in time, rolling mid-air before landing on all fours. Goldy hisses, spitting golden silk to tangle another Ironbark’s arm, only for it to flex and snap the strands with raw power.

  Damn. This isn’t going to be easy.

  I glance at Spiky. "We need to thin them out."

  Spiky smirks—or at least, I think he does. "Already on it." With a sharp flick, he launches a barrage of spines, forcing the Ironbarks to shift defensively. Some of the spines embed in their bark-like hides, others bouncing off uselessly.

  I rush in, using the distraction to scuttle toward Goldy’s side. "Goldy! We need to find a weak spot—these things are too tanky!"

  Goldy grins, her mandibles clicking with excitement. "Then let’s make one!"

  Goldy glances at me and Tessa, her mandibles twitching in excitement. "Cover me."

  No hesitation. "Got it!" I scuttle in front of her, Tessa moving in beside me, fangs bared. Spiky shifts behind us, already priming more of his bristles.

  The Ironbarks seem to realize something is up because they press forward, their heavy steps shaking the ground slightly. One raises a thick, armored limb to strike, but before it can—

  Fwip! Spiky’s spines shoot past me, peppering the Ironbark’s face. It flinches, momentarily blinded.

  I take the chance, lunging forward and chomping down on its leg. My mandibles scrape against the thick bark-like hide, barely making a dent, but it does get its attention. The Ironbark snarls, trying to shake me off.

  At the same time, Tessa ducks under a swinging limb, moving with that instinctive flow of hers. She darts around the enemy’s blind spot, slashing at its joints with quick, calculated bites. It growls but doesn’t fall.

  Behind us, Goldy works fast. She plucks out her own spines one by one, wrapping them together with layers of her golden silk, forming a dense, tangled cluster. I don’t know what she’s planning, but judging by the way her red-tipped spines glisten, I have a feeling it’s going to be big.

  "Move!" Goldy suddenly commands.

  I don’t ask questions—I just scuttle. Tessa leaps back at the same time, and Spiky scrambles away as Goldy hurls her bundled cluster of spines straight at the nearest Ironbark.

  The cluster smacks into its chest. A half-second of silence.

  Then—BOOM!

  A deafening explosion erupts, shaking the chamber as a blast of force and silk shrapnel tears through the Ironbark’s armor. When the dust settles, a huge, raw chunk of its bark-like plating is completely gone, exposing the softer fungal flesh underneath.

  Goldy grins, eyes flashing. "Now that’s an opening."

  I waste no time, my mandibles sinking deep into the exposed, soft tissue beneath the shattered armor. The foul, acrid fluids of the Ironbark leak from the gaping wound as I tear into it, the flesh giving way with each brutal pull. The creature roars in agony, but I don't stop. Every bite is another step closer to bringing it down.

  The Ironbark raises one of its massive hands to swat me away, but before I can be tossed aside, Tessa is there. She lunges forward, her claws sinking into its thick, bark-like hide. She snarls, her teeth glistening as she holds onto the creature’s arm with a surprising amount of strength for someone her size.

  The Ironbark snarls, trying to shake her off, but it's no use. As its other hand reaches out to grab me, Goldy dives in too. Her agile form barrels into its side, gripping the creature’s other arm with her silk-covered spines. The Ironbark struggles, its movements wild and desperate, but it’s no match for the three of us.

  With their hold firm on the beast, I can continue my work uninterrupted. I rip and tear, my mandibles slicing through the fleshy innards of the Ironbark’s chest. It roars again, but now its sounds are more frantic, panicked as its strength fades. Its body shakes, and its movements slow, almost like it’s realizing it’s losing.

  Finally, I rip out another chunk of its chest, and a sickening squelch echoes in the air. What was once a sturdy, armored beast is now a mangled, exposed mass of fleshy, fungal tissue.

  I step back, breath quickened, as the Ironbark shudders, its enormous frame sagging. Its hands fall limp, and with one last groan, it collapses to the ground, defeated.

  Tessa and Goldy step back with me, and for a moment, there's nothing but the ringing silence of the battlefield.

  Suddenly, one of the Myconid Combatant, Lypor is sent flying through the air, crashing into a nearby cell with a sickening thud. The impact leaves a dent in the wall, and the poor combatant lies there, barely moving.

  Gyldis immediately rushes to the injured Combatant, kneeling beside him as spores swirl around him, attempting to heal the damage.

  The other Myconid Combatant, Astor retreats, quickly backing up toward us, bruised but still standing strong, a look of determination in their eyes.

  I watch, eyeing the two remaining Ironbarks ahead of us. These guys are tough, no doubt about it. But we already took one of them down.

  "Looks like someone had a rough time," I mutter with a smirk.

  Goldy grins, her voice dripping with confidence. "You guys just messed up," she says, her eyes glinting with excitement.

  Tessa, not missing a beat, adds with a playful smirk, "Big time."

  End of Chapter 25