Shadowcroft Academy For Dungeons: Year Two, page 20
Then Logan saw a scarlet phoenix go flying through the leaves of the bough above him. A crystal tiger bounded after her. An enormous black turtle swam through the air with a blue dragon riding on its shell.
The Four Celestial Ancestors all came to a stop to stand on the branch in front of him.
The ancestors assumed humanish forms, but all had dungeon core gems in their bellies. They were beautiful and heroic, standing tall and proud, clad in ornate armor. The Azure Dragon Warrior, in his blue mail, held a blinding sky-blue shield and a sword that burned as bright as the sun itself. The turtle wielded an onyx staff that radiated earthy power. The crystal tiger had two short swords and wore a crystal helm that half covered his feline features. Lastly, the phoenix woman held a spear of pure fire, flickering from gold to orange to red. It matched her flaming armor.
From somewhere, a light found them, making the leaves glimmer. Pools of inky shadow formed beneath the tree’s limbs, and those shadows reached for the heroes, poisoning the wood of the tree and turning the leaves to ash.
Logan thought those shadows looked like dungeoneers, but he wasn’t sure.
Logan wanted to warn the Four Celestial Ancestors, but a golden serpent slithered around and around them, spinning faster and faster, wiping away the darkness, bringing life and flowers wherever his scales touched. The four figures were lost in the blinding flash of the serpent.
Logan wished he could’ve talked to those dungeon core heroes, but they were gone. Something bothered him, though. That turtle looked strangely familiar, though Logan wasn’t quite sure why.
Suddenly, a friendly serpentine face, as bright as the sun, smiled at him. That happy snake filled his vision.
Logan felt himself grin in return. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself, Logan Murray. I am very impressed with you and your friends,” the colossal snake boomed, the sound like a force of nature given voice. “Would you like a gift?”
It wasn’t everyday one of the primal dungeon cores in the history of the universe offered you a present. There was a saying back on Earth—one that was too culturally specific for Inga to appreciate, but which Logan though applied: never look a gift horse in the mouth. In this case, it was a gift snake, but tomayto, tomahto. Logan also recalled the Forevergreen Fizz back at Enrico’s.
“Yes, Golden Serpent,” he replied, though the words felt stilted and his lips numb. “I’d love a gift.”
The serpent opened his mouth and struck like a cobra. Logan was suddenly engulfed in Apothos, a raging torrent of it, but he also had the distinct impression he was being swallowed whole by the divine beast. The sensation was both pleasant and foreboding.
Logan woke with a start.
He was in his bed, back at the academy, down at the bottom of the Ladder Hole.
“Finally!” Marko yelled. “By the beach goddess’s raspberry lemonade, man. I am sick to death of worrying about you while you do your metamorphosis thing!”
With a wince, Logan rose from his bed, but something was wrong. His bed had shrunk. It was barely largely enough to fit his torso, while his arms and legs hung well over the edges. He raised a hand. It hadn’t changed much—he had the TMNT three fingers and a thumb, all thick and stubby. His arm, though, had changed. He had sleek black skin dotted with occasional patches of gray, and his hands and forearms were freakishly large compared to his relatively slender arms. He looked like an inhuman version of Popeye.
“What the what?” He moved his head but then bashed it into Treacle, who took up half his small room.
The minotaur gently pushed Logan back. “You’ve had a change, friend. We all got something from our trip to the Sacred Hollow, but it looks like you won the real prize.”
Inga threw herself onto the bed. She was smaller as well, and he felt the difference as she hugged him close. “Logan Murray, you had us so gravely worried.”
Marko barked laughter. “Ha! Because we found him in a graveyard! Gravely worried. Inga, you made a funny!”
“No pun intended, I assure you! You must believe I would never sink so low.” The Mothmancer realized she was lying on Logan. She moved back, cleared her throat, and tried to hide her embarrassment. “Yes, well, it looks like you advanced several ranks. From what we could tell, you are now a B-Class cultivator, Rank 10, with a whole new world of options.”
Logan’s mouth dropped open. “No. No way. There was this mushroom I ate,” he stammered. “Then I fell into mushrooms. Then the Golden Serpent ate me. It’s. Um. A long story. Do you guys know dungeon cores by the name of Anna, Moisha, and Vilhelm?”
“He’s raving.” Marko shook his head. “He’s lost it. All that work destroyed his sanity. See? Work is very, very dangerous—I’ve been trying to warn you all for ages.”
“Shush.” Inga frowned, waving a hand at the satyr. “Let’s get out of this tiny room. We can go up to Treacle’s workroom, if that’s okay with him.”
The minotaur stood back, arms crossed. “It’s fine. I haven’t cleaned up, so there are cogs everywhere. For those without hooves, stepping on a cog can be a painful experience. But not as painful as life.”
Marko clopped his hoof on the floor. “I’m set on both counts. I love life, and I have ungulate legs.”
“Is it Monday night?” Logan asked. “What about the Tartarucha Cells?”
“I cancelled our standing appointment.” Inga stared at him. “You did it, Logan. You leveled up. You are now an Azure Branch cultivator, and you haven’t even been at Shadowcroft two years. This is remarkable. Truly.” Inga fought back tears.
Marko’s eyes darted back and forth between Logan and Inga. Then the tears fell. The satyr wasn’t afraid to cry. “Hurray, our fun fungaloid is back with us! I was so worried!”
Treacle threw them long looks and then sighed. “Come on, Logan. I’m curious to see how much more wonderful you are now.”
Logan stood up and pulled the big grumpy minotaur into a tight hug. Treacle shifted uncomfortably but didn’t try to pull away. Finally, Logan released his death hug and held the minotaur at arm’s length. “I did it for you guys. All of this has been for you guys, and to save the Tree of Souls. I’m just a fungi trying to seize the decay. Carpe carrion. You know, it wasn’t Rockheart’s training that got me to Azure Branch. It was Professor Rainsap. He was right. My hard work only took me so far.”
Marko wiped his nose and chuckled. “Because, my fungal friend, you just had to dance to the music of the universe.”
Logan went and hugged his goat friend. “When you’re right, you’re not wrong, man. You’re not wrong.”
Treacle glanced at Inga. “We should tell him.”
The Mothmancer shook her head, a worried look flashing across her features. “No, let’s celebrate in Treacle’s room first. Then we can tell him.”
Logan’s heart fell. “Tell me what?”
Inga folded her arms. “I want to enjoy this victory, Logan. But in short, if you must know, there was another attack, this time in the Submerged Hell. No one was killed, but someone was hurt pretty badly.”
Logan thought of his schedule. It was his Diverse Dungeon Environments class with Professor Toothbyte. “Was it Tet or Melvin?”
All three of his friends fell quiet.
“Tell me, Marko,” Logan demanded, all his excitement suddenly forgotten.
The goat man let out a deep breath and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “It was Tet. She wasn’t killed, but her core was damaged. Ned and Zed saved her, but we just don’t know what might happen to her. But like the Cruelwood and the Blasted Barrows, the Submerged Hell is now off-limits to all faculty, staff, and students.”
Inga furrowed her brow. “It’s distressing, I grant you. We’ll tell you what we know. But first, I don’t want to dampen the celebration. And I am dying to see what your abilities will be!”
Logan left his room and started up the ladder. He had trouble climbing because this body was so unwieldy and strange. And so very, very big.
Chapter Twenty-One
Logan stood in front of a full-length mirror in Treacle’s room, which was part machine-shop and part steampunk mad scientist’s laboratory. Little mechanical creatures marched here and there, and every so often, a fork of lightning would erupt from some contraption somewhere.
However, there were some homey elements as well. A merry fire crackled in the fireplace. A thick scarlet comforter lay on a bed half-covered in clockwork gears. A small army of plastic garden gnomes lined one wall. Steve the mannequin sat by the fire with a pipe held to his fake face as if he were smoking. The dummy looked none the worse for wear after his time away from his creator.
Logan stood in front of the baroque mirror, staring at his very new body.
He narrowed his black eyes, which were a few shades darker than his skin and far oilier. And yet they were large and expressive. He made faces at himself, opening and closing his mouth. He had only the slight bump of a nose, but he could smell things through his gills. His mushroom cap was wider than it had been before, less floppy and more round. “I’m getting a shitake vibe from my mushroom cap.”
“You shouldn’t say such mean things about yourself.” Marko half hid his smirk with a frown. “I don’t think it looks like shi—”
“I said shitake,” Logan interrupted before the satyr could finish. “It’s a type of mushroom. I like the off-gray of the gills, the rounded corners, and I have to say, the little mushrooms growing off me are kind of cool.” He swiveled back and forth, noting the little gray growths that spread across his shoulders, chest, and arms.
He turned in a slow circle. It was a little strange not to be dwarfed by the seven-foot-tall minotaur. Logan put himself at about six foot two, which meant he was a little taller than Inga and definitely taller than Marko.
The satyr toyed with his hairy chin. “Well now, the mushroom has sprouted. You were a Shroomian Acolyte. What are we now? Fungal Giant? Portobello Bigness? Toadstool Terror? Or should I call you He-Who-Is-Annoyingly-Taller-Than-His-Goat-Friend?”
“I like that last one. A little wordy, though.” Logan patted the horned head of the satyr. “Actually, I’m a Nightfell Monarch.” He had on his battle skirt, but otherwise, his torso was open to the air. He had an expansive chest, smooth and strong, though his arms were odd. He held out his pipe-thin arms, capped by thick Popeye forearms. Each hand had three stubby fingers and a thumb. “Well, don’t leave me hanging. What do you guys think of my new form?”
The minotaur was sitting at his workbench, but he’d turned his chair to face them. He regarded Logan through hooded eyes, his lips pulled down in a frown. Resting Treacle face, Logan called that one. He had a screwdriver in one hand and a brass orb, sparking with errant bolts of lightning, in the other. After a moment he snorted and twitched his ears. “You still look spongy.”
Logan patted the chitin lines on his arms. “I can thicken up pretty easily, even without my ring’s armor. But point taken.”
Marko plucked one of his gray shoulder mushrooms off.
“Ouch!” Logan rubbed at the spot. “Don’t!”
The satyr winced. “Sorry. I had to check. Don’t worry, I won’t eat it.” He tossed it into the fire.
When Inga circled, her antennae went crazy. “This is remarkable! Your physical integrity isn’t that of the minotaur, however, if you used your Exoskeleton ability, I can see how you might become truly fearsome. Perhaps you should test it out.”
Logan channeled his Apothos into his natural armor. He grew taller and wider, covered in an exoskeleton of hardened fungal growths.
Logan triggered one of his rings, summoning his magical armor. In a glimmer of silver light, a spiked pauldron appeared along with a leather war belt, thick leather greaves, and matching bracers. Miraculously, the conjured armor expanded to fit his new form like a glove.
Marko’s mouth dropped open.
Logan felt good for a minute. Now he could physically intimidate any dungeoneer unwise enough to raid his lair.
The good feeling vanished when the satyr started laughing. “I’m sorry, I tried to be scared, but you’re still the cute little fungaloid we know and love.”
Inga clapped her hands at the party goat. “Stop it, Marko. Logan’s new form is intimidating—the extra mushroom growths are disconcerting. But enough of this. Logan, what of your new abilities? Before, you mentioned you chose a definite path that would aid us in our efforts. The fungaloid form was never going to be as fearsome as, say, an abyss lord. However, as we’ve seen, you have powerful magic. Would you care to show us the extent of your new powers?”
Logan pulled up his matrix.
<<< >>>
Logan Murray
Guardian Core Matrix
Base Race: Fungaloid
Current Evolution: Nightfell Monarch
Cultivator Class: Azure Branch Cultivator; B-Class, Rank 10
Primary Elemental Affinities: Morta/Toxicus
Racial Abilities:
- Digestion (UPDATED!)
Racial Skill:
- Domestic Fungi
Level-One Proto-Spore Cultures
- Opal Truffles, Mucal Film, Ghoul’s Snare, Blister Wart, God’s Eye Caps
- New spores available!
Level-Two Proto-Spore Cultures
- Braincaps, Gem-studded Puffballs, Skullcaps
New spores available!
Level-Three Proto-Spore Cultures
- Spore Wargs
New spores available!
- Level-Four Proto-Spore Cultures
New spores available!
Fungal Form (Active):
- Exoskeleton
- Pneumacity (UPDATED!)
Fungal Form (Passive):
- Fungal Vision
- Disease Immunity
- Poison Immunity
- Blindness Immunity (NEW!)
- Replicate (UPDATED!)
Spore Halo:
- Pollinic Affliction (UPDATED!)
- Symbiosis (UPDATED!)
- Athlete’s Foot (UPDATED TO ATHLETE’S AILMENT!)
- Rapid Growth (UPDATED!)
- Narcotic (UPDATED!)
<<<>>>
A variety of happy NEW! and UPDATED! messages were littered across his matrix. This was different than when he’d upgraded himself to C-Class but becoming an Azure Branch Cultivator was rare. His core was thrumming with the torrent of energy flowing through him.
Since they were symbiotically bound, Inga could naturally see what Logan was seeing, but the others couldn’t. Trying to talk through all this information would be a nightmare.
“This is going to go so much faster if we’re just bonded,” he said.
With a thought, Logan released a wave of Symbiotic spores, which came drifting lazily out of the gills from his darkened cap. “Make sure to breathe them in. All aboard the train to Sporesville. Population: Us.”
Marko inhaled and held the spores in his lungs. “Yep, that’s the stuff!” he wheezed.
Treacle said nothing but let his nostrils flare as he sucked in a lungful of the dancing spores.
Marko Laskarelis and Treacle Glimmerhappy have accepted Symbiotic Bonding!
Notice: As the Infecting Agent, you alone can terminate the Symbiotic bond. In addition, you will receive 10% of all Apothos cultivated by Marko Laskarelis and Treacle Glimmerhappy from this point forward. Bonding initiating in 3... 2... 1...
The spores quickly took root and spread through his two new hosts. Tiny crystalline mushrooms appeared on their shoulders. Both shivered as a crown of delicate, crystalline mushrooms appeared on their heads, linking them to Logan’s Core. Logan felt a flash of their emotions—Marko’s a mixture of excitement and sheer boredom, Treacle’s a bog of existential dread and overwhelming exhaustion. There was also something else, subtly undercutting Treacle’s emotions. Logan wasn’t quite sure what it was, and although he knew he could use his Symbiotic abilities to find out, he didn’t. They were friends, and Logan wasn’t going to pry at whatever was going on with Treacle until the minotaur was ready to share on his own.
Inga didn’t seem to notice any of that. She was tapping at her lips while she considered Logan’s guardian core matrix. “Now this is going to take some time. There is a great deal of information to digest here.”
“Thankfully it looks like my Digestion ability has updated,” Logan replied with a grin.
Treacle groaned. “Oh no... The puns are getting worse.”
Marko snorted. “I’m all for the punniness. Not so much for all the updates. To be honest, this sounds super boring.” He sighed and raised his hands in surrender. “But hey, I’m here for you, buddy.” Marko found a seat on a half-constructed mechanical bull with metal crossbows for horns. “I’ll get comfortable. Although before we really dive in, I feel the need to ask whether there are any mushrooms that might make this a little less dull.”
“Actually, I think so.” Logan deactivated his magical armor and dismissed the Apothos for his Exoskeleton with a thought. “I’ve read up on my Spore Halo abilities. I should probably warn you, though, that some might destroy your mind permanently.”
“Sorry, bro.” Marko shrugged. “The last Cherry Wine Festival and Beach Body Bonanza beat you to it.”
That made Logan laugh. “Then I think it’ll be for the best if we’re all sober for this.” He turned to face Inga, who was too excited to sit. Logan nodded. “Okay, let’s move from the top of the matrix and make our way down. We’ll save the proto-spore cultures for last, since I’ll have to choose from a list. I’ve been studying my options, and I think I know what I want, but I’d still like some input.”
Inga’s eyes were positively glowing. “Let’s start with your digestion.”
Treacle swallowed down some masticated grass. “Hopefully you’ll get an extra stomach or three. Cud chewing is one of the last of my dwindling pleasures.”
Logan went over his updated Digestion ability.
<<<>>>
