The basement air carried the scent of wood and a faint fungal whiff. Oil lamp light stretched their shadows across a strange, hole-riddled wall, flickering with the flame.
Cloro stared at Dylan, his face a mix of joy and disbelief. “Dylan, my man, I was guessing who could set up a mutual aid group in the new Mushroom Capital so fast. You? Never saw it coming…”
He shook his head, genuinely stunned.
Dylan looked just as shocked. He set two cups of wine on the table, sitting across from Cloro, voice thick with emotion. “Big Bro… never thought we’d meet here, like this.”
“No kidding!” Cloro sipped his wine, savoring it, his eyes subtly scanning Dylan and the room. “That rookie I had to teach disguise tricks to, now look at you… made it big. How’d that Isles mission go?”
Dylan sighed. “Bad luck. Flopped. Getting back alive was a win. Honestly, without you guiding me, teaching me the ropes, I’d have bitten the dust long ago. I owe you.”
Reunited after years, they had endless stories—Dylan’s desperate survival on a barren island, Cloro’s close call with church knights. Laughing, their cups emptied fast.
“Seeing you doing well puts me at ease,” Cloro said, standing, reaching to pat Dylan’s shoulder like a proud mentor.
But the moment his hand neared Dylan’s shoulder, things went south!
His fingers twisted, sprouting sharp black claws, lunging for Dylan’s collarbone!
At the same time, his other hand flashed—a short dagger laced with blue paralyzing venom sliced silently toward Dylan’s waist!
Clang!
A sharp metallic clash echoed. Dylan, as if expecting it, drew his short sword in a flash, parrying the claws.
The force pushed both back half a step, just enough for the sneaky dagger to miss.
In a blink, the nostalgic buddies turned into tense foes.
A flicker of mixed emotions crossed Cloro’s face—pride, regret—before settling into a low sigh. “You’ve gotten quick, Dylan. Back then, you wouldn’t have blocked that.”
“You taught me well,” Dylan said, regretful. “Wish you hadn’t come here.”
Cloro nodded, helpless. “Yeah, would’ve been nice if I wasn’t sent.”
Mycelium traces weren’t hard to spot. After seeing the Puffshroom Masters in Mushroom Capital, Cloro recalled Dylan’s real look—similar, just a shade different.
The “parasitic monster” story didn’t hold up.
If they’d never met again, it’d stay a buried secret.
But they did meet.
To Cloro, Puffshroom Home screamed human trap. He was in deep, and grabbing Dylan was his only shot to escape. Too bad it failed.
Just then, a round Puffshroom squeezed out of a wall hole, its cap popping open with a boop.
Boop—boop boop—boop boop boop—
Soon, over a dozen Puffshrooms flooded the cramped room, blocking every exit.
Cloro didn’t bother struggling. He flopped to the ground. “Dylan, don’t hold it against me for going hard. In my shoes, you’d try too, right? For old times’ sake, can we skip the torture?”
Dylan sheathed his sword, stepping to Cloro, now tightly bound by mycelium tendrils, and crouched. “So, Big Bro, wanna join us?” he asked calmly.
Cloro squirmed, forcing a grin. “C’mon, brother, cut me a break… I’ll spill all my intel, just let me go. My wife and kid are waiting up north…”
“Cloro, what wife and kid? Forgot we caught you cheating together?”
“…”
As awkward silence spread, a voice dripping with bloodlust, like it was dragged from a blood-soaked abyss, erupted from a tattered white cloth on Cloro’s chest. “If you won’t join… then die!”
Cloro jolted, survival instinct kicking in. “Wait! Let’s talk! We can work this out!”
Dylan, caught off guard, shouted, “Boss, hold on—”
Too late.
Splurch!
Tendrils pierced Cloro’s clothes, plunging into his body. Pain and fading strength blurred his mind, his last sight Dylan frantically pulling a healing potion from his pocket.
Dylan’s boss… moves too damn fast… was Cloro’s final thought before darkness.
Cloro opened his eyes to Puffshroom Home’s guest room ceiling.
It felt like a bad dream.
He sat up, heart pounding, then noticed his coat—nearly ten crudely stitched holes, sloppy stitches turning his decent merchant look into a street beggar’s.
Not a dream!
Especially when he touched his chest, feeling the new mycelium inside…
Cloro sat on the bed, silent, piecing it together. Who was behind Dylan?
If it was humans, he’d be in a grave or jail, not here.
These mycelium, Puffshrooms… not new. They’d been around before he met Dylan, just hidden.
Now they were spreading openly in human lands!
A scheme this big could pass for an imperial duke’s plan.
But Cloro knew it wasn’t. His mission had two goals:
One, investigate the sudden “Puffshroom Masters” in human territory—strength, weaknesses.
Two, find the mycelial network’s weak point to cut human supply lines.
This network wasn’t their side’s plan—that’d be defying the emperor!
But it didn’t scream human either.
A third party?
Elves seemed likeliest… but would those pointy-ears really cook up something like this?
Knock knock—
The door was tapped, not too hard.
Before he could answer, the lock clicked with a key.
Dylan, the innkeeper, entered, setting a steaming breakfast on the nightstand, wearing a professional smile. “Morning, Big Bro Cloro. Welcome to the Mushroom Garden! Any questions,” he paused, voice as reliable as Cloro’s used to be, “just ask me.”
(End of Chapter)
Cloro the goat’s here too🥳🥳🥳