Chapter 178: Fungal Folly (Patreon)

Even though Coop had avoided wandering into a dead end by employing Fog of War and Presence of Mind to map his route, he still found himself at an impasse. The final chamber was large enough to have confused his makeshift mini-map, tricking his distracted mind into believing that it continued further underground. Every other route was a proper dead-end, filled with nothing by mushrooms and moths. This one was more of the same, but rather than a simple damp cave it was a palatial reliquary of stone. The thin mists of Fog of War failed to saturate the empty space much like when his domain had discovered the open ravine that connected to the surface at the start of his cave exploration.

Coop had already hopped back to his feet, after blocking the surprise attack, and was twirling on his heels as he searched for the source. He suspected he had found the boss room. If he was designing a dungeon, the large cathedral of a cavern would have been a fitting setting to find the king of moths and mushrooms. The final confrontation had come sooner than expected. However, there was no obvious opposition to his presence, and the source of the attack remained hidden. It couldn’t be among the storm of moths, but every other option seemed even more unlikely.

“...I am going crazy…” An elderly man’s voice rang in his mind, latching onto the subconscious doubts that he had easily dismissed.

Coop couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh as the deceptions shifted their strategy and tried to pretend to be his own inner monologue.

“...The walls are closing in…”

“...I am scared…”

“...The shadows are consuming…”

Coop took a second to take in his surroundings properly, having his focus jolted back by the tangible attack that knocked him to the ground. The running commentary from the peanut gallery was easily ignored when his survival instincts were really kicking in.

The cavern was exceptionally large, almost the size of one of the pearlescent chambers beneath the fort back on Ghost Reef. It lacked the gentle blue illumination brought by the central pillars, but gray light flickered on motes of dust throughout the cave, and there was plenty of color thanks to the neon green covering the surfaces wherever the strange mushrooms appeared. They didn’t contribute much light beyond glowing themselves, leaving the rest of the cave in the inconsistent grays provided by floating wisps.

The ceiling was close enough to be visible in the dim light, maybe 80 feet up. It was all relatively smooth, lacking the natural formations of stalactites, though long ridges ran the length of the room. Really, the entire cave was too oval compared to the previous sinkholes he had explored. It obviously did not share the same origin as the rest of the cave system. The cavern also lacked the ever-present groundwater pools, relegating them to a few pond-like shapes at the back edges of the chamber where the mushrooms submerged themselves, making the crystal clear water seem uninviting with a toxic green tinge.

While the moths continued to swarm, appearing something like a blizzard illuminated by headlights at night. They kept their distance from him, behaving like the insects normally would, though Coop was already developing a theory that they were hallucinating at least as much as he was. They reminded him of a cat chasing a laser pointer, like they were pursuing an invisible streetlight which caused them to flow around the room in an unpredictable but seemingly deliberate way. They weren’t so dense that something larger could remain hidden among them.

As Coop scanned the room, his eyes finally reached the point where his warhammer had struck the ground when he thought he was getting into a fight with the gigantified green mushrooms. He had slammed his weapon hard enough to crush stone. In fact, he had pulverized a section of the ground and the crater that had formed revealed something other than rock hidden a foot beneath the surface. From a quick look, it seemed more like thick gray leather, already bruising from the shockwaves of his attack. It reminded him of the way an apple would bruise after being dropped, wet and mushy.

Coop concentrated on Presence of Mind a bit more thoroughly on the crater and tried to identify the surface.

[Fairy’s Inkcap (Level 317)]

[Enthralling Mystic (Mind)]

[Hallucinogenic (Bound)]

“Ah…” Coop grunted, stepping back involuntarily.

For a moment, irrelevant questions clouded his mind, adding to the whispers. Shouldn’t the monster’s level have been displayed as question marks? There was a huge level gap between himself and his target. He thought that maybe he could see it due to his excessive Mind stat contributing to the efficacy of Presence of Mind, or hopefully, the number was merely another hallucination.

“...Run…” The little girl’s voice suggested, and he was more tempted than ever to listen.

The ground rumbled as if on cue. Coop took a wide stance, bracing against the earthquake as the earth itself groaned. At first it seemed natural. The shaking caused large boulders to free themselves from the ceiling and crash down into the shallow puddles that were scattered around the chamber. The thumping continued until it was drowned out by the roaring of stone grinding and shattering. Splashes of water caught some of the moths, but most of them continued to swirl around, though they were concentrating near the ground as if pulled by excess gravity.

The solid stone floor bulged beneath the cloud of moths and Coop abandoned any hope that it was simply an earthquake he was experiencing in a terrible location. Whatever was beneath the stone was pushing itself into the cavern. Enormous pieces of rock slid out of the way, forming flat sheets that bounced toward the edges of the room. Coop tried following them, carefully finding his footing while dodging rolling rocks and skipping pebbles. Dust and moths bounced off his armor and he swiped them away from his path as he progressed to the far edge of the cave.

“...Hehehe…” All of the voices combined as they descended into madness. Coop’s mind rang with maniacal laughter while his ears were filled with the grinding of stone against stone.

When he reached the wall he ignored the green mushrooms in order to brace himself against the shaking. A few of the white moths fluttered away from their hiding spots among the fungi, bouncing off Coop’s face harmlessly, but Coop’s arms were coated in a thin layer of the gray motes. They were clearly spores. His notifications were flooded with notifications of afflictions.

[You resisted Fungal Madness]

[You are afflicted by Fungal Reality]

[You are afflicted by Fungal Decay]

[You resisted Fungal Feast]

[You resisted Fungal Rot]

[You resisted Fungal Fever]

[You are afflicted by Fungal Putrefaction]

[You resisted Fungal Consumption]

…

“...Game over…” The little girl’s voice rose above the constant laughter of the rest, but Coop wasn’t so sure of her assessment.

The notifications went on and on, continuing for hundreds of lines. Coop had a dozen debuffs, but a brief review of their effects found nothing critical. His health and mana recoveries were both diminished, a handful of health drains were eating at his health, two did the same to his mana, some of his stats were reduced by inconsequential flat amounts, his vision was diminished, and any confusion he felt would be compounded. But Coop wasn’t someone that could be brought down to a rational level with minor handicaps, the actual worst effect was that the spores made him itch all over.

Coop’s stats totaled over 11,000. Yes, the giant mushroom was higher level than he was on paper, but raw levels didn’t really compare to his combination of escalating passive skills. He shouldn’t be intimidated unless his opponent had levels with four digits, at a minimum, and even then they might just be primed for an even fight. Unless this mushroom had taken up crochet and leveled it as a profession approximately 2,000 times while hiding in its cave, he didn’t think he was at a true disadvantage yet.

As the earthquake subsided, he was finally able to assess the situation, this time prepared for a fight. Looking across the room the damage had practically disappeared. He suspected the violence of the rumbling and the impending collapse of the mountain had actually been yet another hallucination. He shook his head in disappointment as he believed he had been fooled into exposing himself to a suite of debuffs by the constant mental pressure he had been under within the cave system. If he hadn’t been so resistant, he would have been driven into one of the earlier dead ends and his expedition would have been put into jeopardy, lost and weakened. Still, the simple trick had worked on him in the end.

“Nasty.” Coop muttered as he shook the spores off his arms and gazed forward.

Rather than utter destruction of the rock surfaces, the giant cavern was almost entirely intact. However, it was not empty. There were mutated humanoids shambling toward him from the center of the chamber. Coop grinned, happier with the outcome than a healthy-minded individual would feel, though his sickness was his normal obsession with the grind rather than any influence from the spores.

He had been anticipating a boss fight and naturally assumed that the mushroom cap he had discovered underground would be climbing into the empty space to try and stomp his life out. When he spun around to take in its majesty, he expected to find himself staring at the Godzilla of fungi. These guys appeared significantly more manageable, matching his stature without his capability. He flipped his warhammer once and checked the aura of the nearest mushroom zombie.

[Elite Sporeguard (Level 317)]

[(Strength)]

[Minion (Infectious)]

The Elite Sporeguard was a grotesque approximation of a human shape. Each one had slightly different proportions, with arms and legs lacking symmetry. They had pale, sickly skin that seemed too moist and too smooth. Rather than a head, they had caps that were thrust upwards with an edge that drooped down and wrapped around the entire circumference. Gills extended from the chin all the way down what would have been a neck with pores that leaked more spores as they shambled toward him. Smaller growths appeared at random on the surface of their skin, infesting locations that would have been other features like eyes, mouths, or other joints.

Instead of eye contact, Coop could only manage to stare at pairs of mushrooms growing on the surface of their caps. Mycelium snaked across the surface of their smooth, damp skin, like exposed veins belonging to the smaller parasitic mushrooms that clung to the larger host. When they moved, they jerked and hitched, but they made progress across the stone floor without stumbling.

Coop hesitated for a moment. “Wasn’t I supposed to be fighting a High Priest?” He asked, wondering about the dynamic between his opponents and the Cult.

Coop shrugged and concentrated on what was in front of him, putting aside his questions for later. “Alright mushroom man. You better give plenty of experience.” He demanded at the first approaching monster.

On steady feet that beat a confident rhythm that deviated from the chaotic gaits of the monsters, Coop charged forward. He put space between himself and the mushroom wall, prepared to enter the fray with any opponent, no matter how repulsive. Crossing the distance with inhuman speed, Coop held his ethereal shield forward for a moment as his offhand balanced the backswing of a full power overhand warhammer swing from his mainhand. The hammer head whirled through the air, cashing in on his momentum, before smashing into the top of the mushroom man’s head with a wet smack.

The collision was immediately unsatisfying. Striking the Sporeguard was like crushing a sponge. Rather than the resistance of the metallic Primal Constructs or any other armored enemy, the Sporeguard’s skin barely resisted the hammer, losing its shape and folding in on itself. The monster couldn’t withstand Coop’s powerful attack, even with all of its levels. It was flung backwards into its fellows, smashing through the crowd like a foam bowling ball, tripping a dozen enemies as it went, but it wasn’t defeated in the single strike.

Coop fell back, avoiding a cloud of spores that exploded from his first target. His notifications scrolled through his vision, indicating dozens more afflictions being applied while five times the number were resisted. He grunted in response while his warhammer disappeared into mists and his spear formed. At least he had confirmed that his stats weren’t even close to being outmatched by the high level enemies.

In the next moment, he planted his foot hard enough to dig a divot into the solid rock cave and pitched his spear forward. The missile roared through the air, punching into the closest Sporeguard in an instant and continuing forward.

Coop clicked his tongue in disappointment and dismissed his spear in the next second. He was facing the same exact number of Sporeguards, though a line of them now had holes ripped through their torsos or were missing limbs that were torn off by the spear’s trajectory. They hadn’t even stumbled when pierced. They continued their forward motion despite the force of his throw, letting strips of leather-like skin hang in shreds from their injuries while leaving behind puffs of spores from where they were struck.

“Alright.” Coop mumbled, finding himself pressed more than expected.

Coop didn’t charge further into the fray, deciding to take the opportunity to test some of the newest features of his evolved Invocation skill while stepping backwards. The new ability hadn’t merely become a combination of Retribution and Salvation, the two skills that summoned his armor and weapons respectively. It had also improved on some of the specific limitations that had driven Coop’s development at the start of the assimilation.

The first ability expansion was that he was no longer limited to the smaller and lighter weapon designs that had kept him tied to one-handed weapons and polearms. The capacity of the mists had increased, or rather, his ability to tap into the mists had progressed. He dismissed his one-handed warhammer and summoned something completely new, a weapon that could really leverage his Strength in a way that had only been imitated by his morning star.

The ethereal mists gathered around both of his hands as he held them in front of his chest, carefully imagining his choice. The mana cost was quadrupled, but that was a meaningless penalty for Coop. He had already lowered the cost of both Retribution and Salvation with Practical Application before having the opportunity to combine the upgraded skills. Zero cost multiplied by four was still zero. Of course, for Coop, the original cost of 200 mana without Practical Application’s reduction would still be laughable, but he reveled in the benefits all the same.

The mists solidified within his hands, forming a thick haft that was fit for a proper two-handed weapon. Imitating a sturdy wood, it extended well beyond his shoulder before terminating in a double-sided crescent shaped head on both sides of the top, and a heavy bulbous knob on the bottom. Coop watched as the mists imitated a dark leather wrap across the entire surface of the handle. He hummed in excitement as the weapon became almost too oversized. The handle was nearly five feet long, starting from the rounded metallic ball until meeting the sharp edges at the other end.

The head was as wide as Coop’s torso, and even though the entire thing was lighter than it had any right to be, thanks to the natural features of the mists, the ends had a weight that Coop suspected only he and someone with a strength multiplier like Emmanuel could properly wield. Any swing he took would be empowered by the momentum created by the additional weight.

Coop twisted the shaft in his hands, watching both of the curved edges gleam in the dim light, then he flipped the head so that it was on his left, then back to his right before he held it in front of his body and nodded in satisfaction. His first experience with Inheritance of the Mists had given him a broader idea of the limitations of his abilities. It wasn’t exactly historical accuracy that was limiting his choices, though it still had to remain within human imagination while not exceeding the technological limitations inherent in mana. This was a weapon he believed was pure fantasy unless ancient humans were cleaving dragons or dinosaurs: a proper barbarian’s weapon.

“The Battle Axe.” Coop announced with a slight grin slipping onto his face. He presented it to himself as the Sporeguards picked up speed to assault him. The voices in his head laughed even harder, transforming from the giggles of madness to shrieks of insanity.

He finally stepped forward to retry his assault, casting Legacy of the Mists as he went, summoning an ally to lead the way. The Sporeguards were deceptively fast despite their awkward stature. Their limbs were misshapen, lacking proper structure without any internal skeleton, but they were rigid and moved with quick lurches. They propelled themselves with stumbling steps as their leathery exteriors pulsated, manipulating their bodies in a manner that was completely alien to Coop’s eyes.

His first phantasmal barbarian burst out of the mists with a battle axe that was stained black by fire and blood. The phantasm was dressed in a weaved loincloth and a small iron breastplate strapped by leather that only amounted to ornamental decoration for his bulging muscles rather than providing protection. It was exceedingly light armor with an extraordinarily heavy weapon. When he came out of the mists, he carried the axe cocked over one shoulder. As he appeared, he heaved it up in order to let gravity help bring the edge straight down onto the head of the first Sporeguard.

The mushroom man got a limb up to block, but the curved edge of the axe cut straight through, tearing the protective arm off as the head of the weapon continued down into the cap of the monster. The axe smashed into the rock below without slowing down, carving a new gouge in the cave. The monster collapsed in two halves on either side of the weapon, being split like it was an empty costume that didn’t provide any resistance at all.

The Sporeguard exploded into motes of dust. The tiny spores lit up the gloom of the cave, being swept into the mists that the phantasm carried. The spores clung to the phantasmal warrior and his axe, lighting them up in a dim gray illumination that gave the phantasm a truly ghostly appearance. The ghost continued forward, unheeding the afflictions he undoubtedly sustained, heaving the weapon back over his shoulder and marching forward three steps to repeat the attack on a second monster.