I stared at the notification thoughtfully.
—---
Neophyte Mira Hill has t the conditions to be promoted from Level 16 to Level 17. You’ve leveled up!
…
—---
"I got another…" I whispered. Information requests were critical for my survival. Still, I made up for the three I had used to find the key to solving the quest, finding the Treskirita, and creating the safest path to completing the request. "But… there’s only two things a slurry’s good for, and I don’t wanna lose… skills or whatever," I pondered aloud.
I was warned that if I used Information Requests for unnecessary things, I’d get less valuable subclasses. I didn’t know what a "subclass" was, but I needed everything I could get to survive. If it were unclear, that’d be one thing. I’d prioritize my life. But I couldn’t imagine what it would tell that I didn’t already know.
I closed my eyes and went through the situation carefully.
I had a slurry, which was used to inoculate a substrate with mycelium. Simply pouring this slurry into wandering reaper territory could kill the creature in a couple of months. It was a weapon—just a slow one.
There was another way that mycelium could be used to ward off creatures.
Scent.
I already ntioned this, but I’ll elaborate.
Fungi can be used as a deterrent by its scent. The best example is Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, the fungus that the makers of the ga and TV show "The Last of Us" made extre leaps to turn into a zombie creator.
Cordyceps infect carpenter ants, taking control of their brain and brainwashing them into returning to their colonies, where they explode with spores to infect the others.
It’s lethal—but the ants know about it. So if they sll it near an area—they stay away. That’s why you can mix the spores into water and soak wood in it to create wood that carpenter ants won’t get near. That was my solution.
That said, it also ca with a warning. If the carpenter ants found an infected ant, they killed it and dragged it far away from the colony to die. Things got violent, and I was strangely certain that if I were to dump this slurry onto a sentient being who knew it would kill it, it would panic and start trying to destroy the source: .
This was all speculation—and that was the problem. I didn’t know if these plants could sll anything, and I didn’t know if they would attack if I inoculated them with the slurry. The only way to know was to do so tests. So I sat down at a rock and pulled out the slurry.
"Co over here," I said to Kline.
Kline looked at warily.
"It’s okay. It’s just like… insect repellent. It’ll be fine as long as you’re not cut up anywhere."
He walked up warrily, moving back and forth, looking at the aloe-looking water hesitantly before lying down next to .
"Good guy," I said. He purred in delight as I petted him. Then I checked him for scratches and wounds before putting the slurry on my fingers and petting his legs—avoiding his paws.
This slurry contained a soul-eating mushroom. Far from healing us, it would probably inoculate us with the fungi and kill us from within. That was a cold fact that I read, so we had to be careful.
Once I finished, I itched my neck and feet, grunted, and then stood up, bag open—in case I had to pour it—and looked toward my stuff.
"Listen, Kline. I’m going to wander in there a little bit to get one’s attention. When it cos out, I want you to co after . If you deter the plant—great. We’ll co back and regroup. If you don’t, I need your claws to rip free, okay?"
Kline owed, but there was worry in his eyes.
You can’t pay for love like that.
I petted his ears. "It’ll be okay."
I didn’t know it would be okay.
Neither did he. That’s why he yowled. I ignored him and approached the area on my map that was outlined in red. It was only once I got near it that the true nervousness kicked in. It suddenly hit like soone jamming a steel rod into a set of cogs. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
Trauma.
Or, probably not even trauma. Just sheer fear of sothing that I should be afraid of.
Whatever it was, it instantly dried out my throat and made my muscles ache. My chest swelled like a balloon, and I had to remind myself to breathe. I probably would’ve locked up if Kline hadn’t pawed twice at my ankles to remind it was okay. Then he owed—and I walked forward.
—---
Twigs sound louder when your life’s on the line. Each sounded like the boom and quake of thunder, making my heart rattle as I walked over dirt where I could clearly see. I checked the ground cover and bushes for signs of rustling. The wandering reaper was deadly—but it was slow.
And smart.
It didn’t react as I walked in. It was luring in further, making it difficult for to escape. Or maybe it wasn’t even there, but tendrils were coming. It was truly unclear, so after I got a hundred feet in, I waited for about five minutes on a stump, taking sharp breaths, itching my neck and foot—watching the sun break over the horizon.
It would soon be night, and there was still a half-mile hike through reaper territory to go.
I waited there for a while, and nothing happened. That lulled into a false sense of security, and when I moved, I finally felt sothing shift under my foot.
I pulled back, jumping backward. A tiny tendril ca—and then it left, disappearing.
"Son of a bitch!" I wasn’t angry that it almost got —I was angry because if it didn’t stay up, I couldn’t tell if Kline would deter it!
I kicked the ground. "Fight !" I felt so ridiculous for saying that, but the sunlight was ticking, and I had at least twenty minutes before I got to my bag unless I ran. Otherwise, I’d be SOL. I was already in a terrible situation.
Suddenly, the wandering reaper decided to call my bluff. A dozen had slowly sprouted around . They were eerily slow but deadly, and stepping on one would stick in place.
"O-Oh, no. No-no-no-no—"
Kline let out a terrific roar and closed the distance. The tendrils panicked long before he got there, but Kline caught up faster, clawing the air and causing the area around my feet to explode.
The phantom slash opened up the ground like a ripped cheek exposing teeth, and I could see a huge writhing mass of dozens of tendrils shifting under the ground. I imdiately panicked and jumped back into a tree. But I didn’t have to worry. As soon as Kline made it to the location, all the tendrils shot underground as quickly as possible.
"I-I think it worked…" I said, twisting the water sack shut.
Kline owed. I looked at him with blubbery eyes. "Co here." Kline jumped in my arms, and I cradled him for a mont. Then I put him down, opened up the water sack, and put the slurry over my jeans, careful to avoid any scrapes.
My neck was burning and itching and almost bleeding, reminding that I would die soon if I didn’t finish this quest, and my foot was hard to step on without wanting to itch all the skin off.
I looked at the setting sun. I had twenty minutes to make it half a mile; after that, I’d be walking back at night.
"Co on," I said to Kline. "Let’s go." Taking a deep breath while Kline was walking behind , I stepped over the red line and started walking.
The reapers were aware of us by that point, so they had poised to strike, building a wall that was impossible to clear. They surrounded us by the hundreds, and more kept sprouting, rustling through grass and rock and ground cover—anywhere where we could move. Getting past them should’ve been impossible—but the slurry worked. Step after step, we walked through the area, reapers parting like the Red Sea, making way for us. Once they parted, they never touched the path we walked on again. It was working. They beca docile—but they never left. They were always watching, waiting, looking to strike at a mont’s notice if necessary. Perhaps, like carpenter ants seeing their brethren infected with cordyceps, they were waiting to kill their own tendrils and send them far, far away to protect the body.
Perhaps.
It wasn’t clear. All I knew was that my hearing buzzed like static, my heart felt strained, and my foot hurt. It hurt so damn much and it didn’t help that I was stepping over jagged stones that felt like broken glass. At any mont, my weapon, the rest of the slurry in my hand, ready to be inoculated into the land to kill the wandering reaper, could fly out of my hand, sending the reapers into a frenzy.
That could happen.
Death.
I didn’t think about it. I just itched my neck a few tis and pressed on, watching the sun get lower and lower over the horizon until the forest was bathed with warm colors.
Then I saw it.
It was twilight when I got to the clearing, and the backpack shone like a star. I imagined that it would be in tatters, ripped apart as the creature went after my beef jerky and al bars. It wasn’t. There was a golden sheen on the bag, perfectly preserved, showcasing a glowing magical circle on the back that turned it into a lamp. I could also see it clearly because the wandering reapers had hoisted it up multiple tendrils and tree branches.
Below it was a cobra pit of reapers, as if my backpack was so desperate heroine from a B-rated movie, crucified by savages—begging to be saved.
I didn’t know why they did that, but I was guessing they did it to prevent anything from stealing it—and I shuddered to think what type of animal could disregard thousands of the wandering reapers.
Perhaps that bus-sized creature that was enraged that I cut the water sack plant?
Probably.
Kline owed and snapped out of my reverie. I took a deep breath and took another painful step. And then another. A third. Soon, I was walking back toward the backpack.
I needed to do it. I needed to get my survival equipnt and complete that quest. If I didn’t, I was dead. That was almost a guarantee. The Guide said there was a cure for Wisteris poisoning, and the ingredients were available, but it said that I needed First Tier alchemy skills, which could an that it was the easiest or hardest. And instead of having attempt it, it sent here.
This was my only shot. It was now or never.
I swallowed hard and started moving toward the backpack, slowly—thoughtfully. That concentration only made things worse because rashes itch the most when you’re trying to think or sleep.
"You’re gonna be okay," I whispered. "You’re going to get your water bottle and drink and use your cortisone cream. Yeah. Parasite or not, an itch is an itch. Yeah. And there’s jerky. Oh, yes, there’s jerky. Jack Links and a Luna bar. Ah…."
I suddenly lurched when I stepped on a twig with my uncovered foot. It shot pain up my leg and made want to thrash around.
"Son of a—! God. I’m going to kill these things… Oh yes, I’m going to follow The Path just to murder every last…." I stopped in the clearing.
In front of was my backpack, hanging like a sacrifice.
Below were dozens of reapers, writhing underneath it like a cobra pit.
"Kline…?" I whispered. Kline wed behind , letting know he was there. I nodded. "Let’s do this."
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