For those who walk the road alone.

“My lady! You can’t go in there!”

Two adventurers stood in the path of Solaryn and her Church warriors. Behind them, the mushroom forest glowed in a riot of brilliant colors.

They had accepted a commission to guide the Church warriors, but no one had said the journey would end with them being delivered straight into Death’s hands.

Enter the mushroom forest on the Fifth Stratum?

Not a chance. They had never heard of anyone going in and coming back out.

The beautiful forest ahead might as well have been Death’s own backyard. If these people wanted to die, couldn’t they find a rope and do it themselves? Why drag the two of them along?

“My lady, if you insist on going in, we’ll have no choice but to abandon the commission here.”

Seeing how firmly the two adventurers objected, Mayne turned to Solaryn. “What do we do?”

“We listen to them.”

Silver arcs shimmered across Solaryn’s right eye, but she offered no objection.

The two adventurers visibly relaxed when the Church party chose not to press forward. Mayne, however, gave Solaryn a puzzled look. She had agreed far more readily than he had expected. It wasn’t like her.

[True Sight]

The world fractured across her retina into countless fields of color. The ability distinguished the traces left by every kind of being.

Vampires and other undead appeared black. Humans were pale yellow or milky white, elves light green, and dwarves brown. Every type of monster possessed its own color as well.

There were subtle variations between individuals, of course, and certain unusual life-forms had unique colors all their own.

But Solaryn had never seen anything like the color she had encountered after entering this dungeon.

Chaos.

Countless hues churned without order through the viscous veins of the mycelial mat, blending into an unnatural, mottled stain.

She didn’t know what the color represented, but the sight weighed heavily on her.

More disturbing still, every hyphal strand and every Puffcap she had encountered since entering the dungeon bore the same chaotic color under [True Sight].

Even members of the same monster species ordinarily showed subtle differences. They never shared a perfectly uniform color like this.

Solaryn couldn’t tell whether that uniformity was simply a property of “chaos,” or whether every mushroom in the dungeon was part of a single organism.

According to the intelligence she had gathered, the latter was more likely.

To her senses, entering the dungeon had felt like walking into the belly of some colossal beast. She would have been lying if she claimed the thought didn’t unsettle her.

Duty had left her little choice. The other teams she had summoned had failed to respond, forcing her to descend personally and confirm the Demonkind’s whereabouts.

So when the two adventurers warned her against entering a mushroom forest that appeared entirely chaotic to her sight, she readily accepted their advice.

“Let’s continue to the next stratum,” Solaryn said without expression.

She no longer expected to find the Demonkind here. Once this expedition was over, she would write the bishop a report on the Amethyst Deep.

* * *

Evan watched with satisfaction as the adventurers led the Church warriors around the mushroom forest and the Marsh Zone, completely unaware that a squad leader named Solaryn was already planning to write a report about him.

With the external matter settled, it was time to deal with an internal one.

That meant you, tawny leather-bound codex.

In the mushroom forest, a Puffcap slammed the codex onto the ground. Sable stood nearby, visibly displeased at having been awakened. Norris was also present, having received a one-day furlough from the Slime prison because Evan needed an interpreter.

[My lord, I’ve been very well behaved in the secret chamber. Why have you brought me out?]

The Sacred Codex clearly suspected what was coming and tried its best to appear docile. Unfortunately for it, Evan knew exactly what it was. Acting obedient wouldn’t help.

Facing the tawny leather-bound codex, Evan recited a string of figures.

“Two Vampire attacks. Two hundred and sixty-seven Puffcaps of various types lost. An area of mycelial mat larger than a quarter of the Fifth Stratum destroyed. Seven mushroom trees felled.

“Containing you also requires four elite Puffcaps and thirty ordinary Puffcaps on guard at all times.

“And now you’ve drawn the Church here.

“So I have a question. Wouldn’t it be more cost-effective to terminate your employment?”

Kneeling in front of the tawny leather-bound codex, Norris faithfully repeated the Boss’s words. Once the codex responded in writing, he would have to recite its words mentally to the Boss as well.

The Boss had promised him a full day off once this was done. Norris intended to spend every moment of it asleep. Dealing with a Slime that divided every two hours was torture.

[Um… what does “terminate my employment” mean?]

A Puffcap drew one tendril across the underside of its cap. The tawny leather-bound codex understood at once.

[Boss, I’m a loyal member of the Mycelial Garden too!]

[You don’t need guards. Just put me inside any Stone-Pedestal Puffcap, the same as before.]

[I love the Mycelial Garden! If anyone tries to steal me, I’ll Charm them and make them run straight back to the mushroom forest!]

[There’s no need to terminate me!]

If the tawny leather-bound codex had been capable of drawing a pitiful little face on its pages, it probably would have added one and pleaded shamelessly by now.

Just reading its words made Norris wonder whether the Boss was being a little heartless.

“How about this? I’ll give you a chance. Tell me what value you have and what you can contribute to the Mycelial Garden.”

[?]

What value did it have?

As a Sacred Codex, it had always been either coveted or feared. It had never once needed to consider such a question.

When the tawny leather-bound codex failed to produce an answer after a long silence, the Puffcap beckoned Sable over with a tendril.

[I… I can warn you of danger! I can detect intruders from very far away!]

“How far?”

[From here, I can even sense anyone inside the stairway!]

That covered roughly a third of the Fifth Stratum. It was indeed an impressive distance, far greater than the range of an adventurer’s Reconnaissance.

But…

“So you’re still useless.”

[???]

Sable’s claw was already reaching for it.

[I… I can also improve people’s stats!]

“And drive them insane after a few improvements?”

[I can help you control other people!]

Evan considered his own [Parasitic Fusion] skill, then had Sable pick up the tawny leather-bound codex.

Norris, who was responsible for interpreting, had begun to tremble. Had he really just been feeling sorry for a horrifying evil book?

And the Boss seemed utterly unimpressed by its abilities.

[No, wait! How can none of my many abilities be good enough?!]

“They all seem impractical. I wouldn’t have minded leaving you somewhere to gather dust, but you keep causing trouble. So I’m afraid this is goodbye.”

[C-couldn’t you just throw me out?]

“Oh? So you could tell everyone about the Mycelial Garden?”

[A Dragonkin can tear out my pages, but it can’t destroy the entire book! Doing this is pointless. You’ll only make me suffer!]

“We might as well try. Trying costs nothing, and I’m not the one who’ll feel the pain. Sable…”

As dragon scales scraped across its pages, the tawny leather-bound codex suddenly burst into wild laughter in the face of death.

[Ha ha ha ha!]

Rip!

Sable tore out a page. It quickly crumbled into ash and vanished.

[Ow ow ow ow ow!]

[You’re supposed to ask why I’m laughing!]

Rip!

[Aaaaaaah! It hurts! It hurts!]

[Stop! Stop! I’ll tell you!]

Only then did Evan have Sable pause so they could hear the codex’s final words.

[The Amethyst Deep is in grave danger.]

When Sable reached for it again, the tawny leather-bound codex hurriedly revealed the rest.

[Has a persistent rift already appeared in the dungeon?]

[That’s a dangerous omen! If you don’t do something soon, your Mycelial Garden will be in serious trouble!]

Oh?

So it really did know something?

Evan had expected nothing useful from the interrogation, but now his interest was piqued. He had never told the tawny leather-bound codex about the Slime or the rift.

Perhaps its sensory range was far greater than it had initially claimed—enough to detect the rift on the Sixth Stratum from two strata away.

The Puffcap took the tawny leather-bound codex from the obedient Sable and placed it back on the ground.

“Go on. I’m listening.”

In the hollow within the Sixth Stratum’s mountain, the suspended cage was raised once more, exposing the spatial rift beneath it.

A curse that inflicted corrosive damage swept through the entire cavern, and the white bodies of every Puffcap began to erode.

This time, the cage remained raised far longer than usual. The bicolored Slime grew impatient and shifted around inside, making soft “toot, toot” noises. It was only lowered back into place when the Puffcaps’ HP was nearly depleted.

The tawny leather-bound codex had claimed that [the rift will gradually expand]. Evan studied it for a long time, his cap creased in thought.

Had it grown… slightly larger?

The change was so minute that Evan would never have noticed if the tawny leather-bound codex hadn’t specifically mentioned it.

But that was only true for now. If the rift continued expanding, it wouldn’t be long before the difference became obvious.

Did this mean the Amethyst Deep would eventually become fully connected to an unknown dungeon afflicted by a curse?

That would be troublesome. The unknown was always troublesome, but it wasn’t enough to make Evan lose his composure.

At the rift’s current rate of expansion, even if it accelerated, Evan was confident he could grind [Corrosion Resistance] high enough before the opening grew sufficiently large. When that happened, the Sixth Stratum would simply have another exit.

As he considered the implications, Evan confirmed the matter with the tawny leather-bound codex. “The rift has indeed changed a little.”

[May I ask where it is, my lord?]

Evan saw no reason to conceal it. “The Sixth Stratum. Why?”

[My lord, spatial rifts are a precursor to a dungeon’s collapse.]

[If the collapse began on the Sixth Stratum, then the rift you saw may be the full extent of it.]

[But if the collapse began on another stratum, the rift on the Sixth Stratum may be only a small part of the damage.]

[Have you discovered anything similar elsewhere?]

There had been nothing on the First through Fifth Strata, at least as far as Evan knew.

Rather than answer the codex’s question, he asked one of his own. “What do you mean by collapse? How does a dungeon collapse, and why?”

[More and more rifts appear. They grow larger and larger until the entire dungeon is torn apart. That is what a collapse means.]

[As for why… time erodes everything. Houses deteriorate as they age, don’t they? This dungeon has existed for more than three hundred years. Isn’t it only natural that it would start developing problems?]

More than three hundred years?

That matched the timeline of the story Dylan had told him. The Hero and the Demon King had fought, tearing open a passage to the Abyss and creating the dungeon.

“Do you know how this dungeon came into existence?”

[My lord, I don’t know everything.]

Tch.

If the tawny leather-bound codex were human, things would be much easier. Once Evan parasitized it, he would naturally know whether it was lying.

“Back to the rift, then. You aren’t the sort of useless thing that can identify a problem but offer no solution, are you?”

[My lord, could you stop keeping me locked away all the time?]

[I want to serve the Mycelial Garden too, just as I’m doing now.]

Instead of answering the question, the tawny leather-bound codex made a request. Evan wasn’t surprised.

“If what you tell me proves useful…”

Once it received that answer, the tawny leather-bound codex immediately revealed the solution, apparently unconcerned that Evan might break his word.

[The core. The dungeon’s core.]

[My lord, forgive my bluntness, but you are currently no more than a guest living in someone else’s house. Even if the house is damaged, you have no authority to repair it.]

[But once you gain control of the Dungeon Core and become the dungeon’s master, you will naturally find a way to repair it.]

“The Dungeon Core… Where is this core?”

[At the very bottom of the Deep Strata. The core is there.]

“So your solution is for me to fight my way through the entire dungeon… Very well. One last question.”

Evan’s tone showed no change after hearing the secret, but Norris, who was translating for him, trembled where he knelt.

“Sacred Codex, how do you know so much?”

[My lord, I don’t know. I am merely a creation, and there are certain things I have known since the moment I came into existence. If you insist on asking why, you would have to find my mysterious creator.]

“Hmph…”

[My lord, you must believe me! I have concealed nothing!]

A brief silence followed. Just as Norris began to think Evan would start tearing out pages again to force an answer, Evan abruptly spoke.

“If Norris agrees, he may carry you with him, provided you remain within the Fifth and Sixth Strata.

“You are not permitted to use Charm on Norris or drive him insane. If you do, I’ll tear you apart.

“When Norris isn’t carrying you, you will remain quietly inside the cavern.”

[Thank you, my lord!]

[No, wait.]

[Thank you, Boss!]

Cheers and praise filled the tawny leather-bound codex’s pages. Norris, meanwhile, stared blankly.

Me?

Carry that evil book?

Just listen to what the Boss had said. It wasn’t allowed to Charm Norris or drive him insane.

No matter how he looked at it, carrying the thing sounded dangerous.

Norris stole a glance at the tawny leather-bound codex, which was still celebrating its newfound freedom. Come to think of it, the Boss hadn’t said he had to carry it.

Norris silently resolved to avoid touching the tawny leather-bound codex whenever possible.

The questioning had dragged on for so long that Sable, who had been waiting nearby, had fallen asleep against a mushroom tree. Drool trickled down the scales of her face.

Three Puffcaps approached and extended their mycelial tendrils, lifting Sable and carrying her back to her mushroom house filled with glittering treasures.

A mycelial tendril swept back and forth until it had cleared enough space to set her down.

As the Puffcaps turned to leave, Sable suddenly reached out and wrapped her arms around one of them.

The captured Puffcap continued struggling to obey Evan’s command to leave. Feeling it squirm in her embrace, the half-asleep Sable tightened her grip.

Splat.

Silence returned to the mushroom house.

* * *

Evan didn’t believe everything the tawny leather-bound codex had told him.

The thing had a habit of revealing half the truth while hiding the rest. He had no idea whether it was plotting something, and worse, he had no reliable way to verify its claims.

A dungeon falling into disrepair after only three hundred years?

Even a castle built from ordinary stone wouldn’t necessarily collapse in three centuries.

The claim was hardly credible.

Still, the codex had provided some useful information.

The Dungeon Core, for instance. It was unlikely that the tawny leather-bound codex had invented the entire thing simply to deceive him. Once he reached the bottom, he would know whether it was real.

Evan wasn’t worried about traps in the deepest reaches, either. His Puffcaps would naturally lead the advance. Any trap would merely kill a group of Puffcaps, without harming Evan himself.

He had already confirmed that the rift was expanding. As for whether more would appear, Evan would find out as he continued developing deeper into the dungeon.

Overall, the tawny leather-bound codex’s advice didn’t conflict with his original plans.

Evan had always intended to expand downward. The Dungeon Core had simply become another objective.

As for the tawny leather-bound codex itself, he had kept it locked away until now. He knew it was a Sacred Codex and an evil book, but little else.

It undoubtedly possessed more secrets, but Evan had yet to determine how to pry them from it. Threatening to tear out its pages might make it talk, but it couldn’t guarantee the truth.

Allowing the tawny leather-bound codex to accompany Norris under his direct supervision would give Evan an opportunity to observe it.

As for the danger to Norris… Evan decided to devote a little more attention to him and keep watch at all times.

In the unfinished mushroom forest on the Sixth Stratum, Verdant stood with both feet rooted in the ground, its roots churning back and forth through the soil. Beside it, another Treant planted tender branches in a patch of earth that had already been tilled.

Loose soil allowed air and water to circulate freely, helping roots breathe and grow.

Compared to slow-growing trees, mushrooms developed much faster.

The mycelial mat had already been spread across the designated territory. Although the mushroom trees had yet to mature, they had all broken through the soil. In roughly half a month, the forest would begin to take shape.

Spores had also been scattered across the tender branches. The mushrooms would grow alongside them, forming a mutually beneficial relationship.

Evan wouldn’t collect any mana harvested from the mushrooms growing on those branches. Instead, all of it would be supplied to the branches to accelerate their growth.

Once the branches developed into Treant saplings and eventually awakened as full Treants, the newborns would naturally be loyal to the mushroom faction.

To help them grow, Evan had also experimented with turning Puffcaps into tools.

At the center of the planted branches, a Puffcap had been anchored to the ground. Its body continuously expanded and contracted.

Every time it contracted, water sprayed in all directions from countless tiny holes in its cap, functioning much like a sprinkler.

A specialized hyphal tube was attached beneath it. Despite being called a tube, it was actually a modified mycelial tendril.

Puffcaps were too simple-minded to handle complex modifications such as wings without an appropriate skill. Simpler alterations were another matter, especially something like a tube that only needed to draw in water.

The tube connected directly to the groundwater, with a second Puffcap positioned midway along it as a relay.

In simple terms, Evan had combined two Puffcaps to create a sprinkler. So far, it worked quite well.

Some Treants even came over to shower beneath it after finishing their work. They thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of water striking their bark.

With his furlough ending and his return to the Slime chamber approaching, Norris also noticed the strange new contraption.

Imitating the Treants, he stepped beneath the sprinkler mushroom and let the droplets strike his white scales.

He had only enjoyed it for a moment when something occurred to him. He hurried out of range and opened the tawny leather-bound codex in his hands.

“Hey, Yellow Book, are you all right after getting wet?”

[Do you think I’m some piece of roadside trash worth ten copper coins?]

[Of course I’m not afraid of water.]

[And show some respect. You should call me Elder. I joined the Mycelial Garden before you did.]

Weren’t you locked away that entire time…?

Norris kept the thought to himself and addressed the tawny leather-bound codex as Elder, just as it demanded.

Originally, Norris had intended to avoid becoming involved with the codex whenever possible. The things revealed during its conversation with the Boss had been terrifying. Before the tawny leather-bound codex, Norris felt like prey waiting to be slaughtered.

But the Sacred Codex was an evil book whose primary occupation was corrupting minds. Even without Charm, it would have been truly useless if it couldn’t handle a seventeen-year-old boy.

It told Norris a story about a Hero rescuing a princess.

Once upon a time, the princess of a small kingdom was abducted by a dragon, and the Hero accepted a quest to rescue her.

During his journey, the Hero gathered companions, explored ruins, and defeated monsters. But when he finally reached the dragon’s lair, he discovered that the princess had already been digested without so much as a scrap remaining. Humiliated and furious, the Hero slew the dragon to avenge her.

The dejected Hero returned home after failing his quest, only to discover that the small kingdom had been destroyed during his absence. No one remained to learn of his shameful failure to rescue the princess.

A happy ending for everyone.

With Common Tongue trained to its limit at LV7, Evan secretly listened to most of the story. It was twisted and malicious, yet Norris was utterly enthralled.

Norris’s only family had been a gambling-addicted father who died young. After turning fourteen, Norris had become trapped in a spiral of debt. He had never had many opportunities to hear stories, so he was immediately captivated by the Sacred Codex’s warped little tale.

When the Sacred Codex promised to tell him a new story every three days, Norris happily agreed to carry it with him.

* * *

Evan’s mycelial mat had begun spreading from the Sixth Stratum into the Seventh.

According to the tawny leather-bound codex, if no rifts were found on the Seventh Stratum, the damage had probably begun on the Sixth and wouldn’t be too serious.

But if rifts had already appeared on the Seventh Stratum, the situation might be far worse.

That seemed unlikely. If the rift problem had already become severe, the adventurers should have noticed it long ago.

Evan had questioned Norris, and at least before Norris descended into the dungeon, he had heard no such rumors.

The Seventh Stratum was unusual. If Evan had to describe its terrain, he would have called it a sewer.

An enormous sewer.

Earthen paths ran along both sides of waterways more than thirty feet wide.

The channels intersected in every direction, and barely more than twenty feet separated the water’s surface from the vaulted ceiling. Compared to the hundred-foot heights common on the Fifth and Sixth Strata, the space felt much smaller. There didn’t even seem to be many monsters.

But that was an illusion.

The Seventh Stratum’s true vastness lay beneath the water. The area above the surface probably accounted for less than one-tenth of the entire stratum, and nearly all its monsters were aquatic.

Giant prawns, oysters, turtles, grotesque-headed fish. It had everything. Only the gods knew why so many creatures down there resembled seafood.

Evan liked this stratum.

The only monsters that ventured onto land were a few amphibious species and a type of insect that lived on the ceiling.

There were no Slimes.

The mycelial mat could spread without any trouble. At worst, the monsters that came ashore might eat a few mushrooms. They wouldn’t deliberately damage the mycelium.

Feeding on Glowgrass, Evan’s mycelial mat spread smoothly onward. Compared to its progress through the Sixth Stratum, the difference was night and day.

There was still one minor problem.

Since most of the Seventh Stratum lay underwater, any spatial rift here would most likely be underwater as well.

For all Evan knew, his dungeon might already be leaking water into another dungeon.

If he wanted to explore beneath the surface, he would naturally need a batch of specially modified Puffcaps.

Unfortunately, every aquatic skill in Evan’s skill library was at a fairly low Level. Their limited effects were nowhere near sufficient for a Puffcap to carry out an underwater exploration mission.

The highest was [Underwater Adaptation LV4], and that only allowed a Puffcap to remain submerged for a little longer. It did nothing to help with combat or escape.

Evan had already tried sending several Puffcaps into the water. The result had been little more than feeding the fish. Not long after they sank, pieces of their mutilated caps floated back to the surface.

There was nothing he could do about that. Evan had never had an opportunity to encounter aquatic monsters before. Even the LV1 and LV2 underwater skills he possessed had come from creatures Sable happened to bring back while playing outside.

If Evan wanted to complete his exploration, he would first need to raise the Levels of those skills.

They didn’t need to be particularly high. Around LV4 would be enough, offering a useful degree of improvement that could be achieved quickly.

The problem was that aquatic monsters couldn’t be killed like their terrestrial counterparts. Evan couldn’t simply charge in with a swarm of Puffcaps and overwhelm them.

He would have to get the aquatic monsters onto the shore first, or at least lure them close to the surface, before he had any chance of killing them.

Fortunately, Evan knew exactly how to do that.

It was just fishing.

A Puffcap floated quietly in the dark blue water. Its entire body was submerged, leaving only its blue-green cap above the surface.

The cap appeared to be drifting with the current, but a sturdy rope woven from three mycelial tendrils connected it to the mycelial mat on the ceiling. A small sickle was hidden inside the Puffcap’s body to serve as a hook.

A group of replacement Puffcaps sat waiting on the shore, accompanied by the oversized black Puffcap that had come to watch the excitement. Whenever Evan wasn’t directing it, the oversized black Puffcap would randomly appear wherever other Puffcaps gathered.

When Sable first saw the Puffcap in the water, she had wanted to jump in as well, but the other Puffcaps stopped her. Now she leaned against the wall beside the shore, staring blankly at the Puffcap in the water. No one knew what she was thinking.

Suddenly, the Puffcap dipped beneath the surface, then bobbed back up.

Something was taking the bait!

Evan focused with every bit of attention he possessed.

Honestly, he had never believed this would end without a catch. How could he fail at fishing when he could sense the bait in real time?

Whatever lurked below had already torn off half of the Puffcap’s foot. It had probably tried to drag the Puffcap underwater, only for the rope to rip its intended meal apart. It would definitely return.

Sure enough, the bait Puffcap sensed a current approaching.

A gigantic catfish burst from the water. Its enormous mouth swallowed the Puffcap along with half the rope before it plunged beneath the surface again.

The rope snapped taut. The Puffcaps on the shore extended their tendrils, preparing to haul the catfish in, but before they could hook hold of it, the rope tore free from the ceiling along with a shower of dirt and stone.

Everything vanished beneath the water.

…

That was fishing. Anything could happen, and that was what made it interesting.

Evan remained perfectly composed. He had the Puffcaps move to another location, then poured mana into the mycelium. A new rope quickly grew into place. They secured another hook to its end and carefully threaded a fresh bait Puffcap onto it.

Round two. Begin fishing!

A giant prawn snipped through the rope with its pincers.

A Frost Eel froze the water’s surface, then leisurely ate everything beneath the ice.

A Boneplate Snapping Turtle crushed the Puffcap, hook, and rope in a single bite.

The killing blow came from Sable, who had watched the entire process.

Apparently having finally understood what the Puffcaps wanted, Sable quietly slipped into the water, caught a catfish with her bare hands, and pushed it toward the Puffcaps on shore.

…

…

…

Clearly, Evan’s inability to catch a fish had nothing to do with his technique. The fish of the Seventh Stratum simply weren’t ordinary fish.

They were monsters!

Every last one of them was a vicious monster!

Naturally, ordinary fishing methods wouldn’t work.

Dozens of hours later, a new batch of Puffcaps returned brimming with confidence.

They tossed a few mushrooms into the water as chum and waited. Once Evan judged that enough time had passed, six Puffcaps jumped into the water one after another.

[Infrasonic Attack LV6]

An invisible attack spread through the water without creating so much as a ripple on the surface.

Before long, a pile of dead fish with ruptured organs floated to the top.

Evan was dissatisfied.

There were no big fish.

The larger fish had more HP and fled beyond the attack’s range as soon as it struck. The only ones killed were literal small fry.

The Puffcaps gathered the floating fish and tossed them onto the mycelial mat. Once the mycelium rapidly decomposed them, the results were exactly as Evan had expected.

Almost nothing.

He still needed bigger fish.

Fortunately, Evan had prepared more than one plan. A bulwark Puffcap stepped forward.

The bulwark Puffcap might have been fat, but its density was actually quite low, and its abdomen was hollow. If placed directly in the water, it would float on the surface like a ball. Evan had therefore stuffed several stones into its belly beforehand.

The moment it entered the water, the bulwark Puffcap sank straight to the bottom.

Evan had chosen a spot near the edge of the waterway, where the water was less than thirty feet deep.

The bulwark Puffcap lay motionless underwater. A few small fish began tentatively nibbling at its body, but Evan ignored them.

That was the confidence a massive HP pool provided.

Eventually, a Frost Eel approached and wrapped its serpentine body around the bulwark Puffcap.

A muffled blast sounded beneath the water, sending rings of ripples across the surface.

Several pack Puffcaps equipped with [Underwater Adaptation LV4] jumped in. Not a single living fish remained nearby. Anything that had survived the blast had already fled from the vibrations.

Before long, the Puffcaps retrieved the Frost Eel’s body, which had been blown into several pieces.

They also brought up a giant prawn. It had crawled over to the bulwark Puffcap but exploded before taking so much as a bite, losing both pincers in the blast.

Out of the goodness of his heart, Evan had the Puffcaps retrieve its severed pincers so they could be reunited.

[Sin of Greed triggered.]

[Skill Plundered: Frostpath LV1]

[Skill Plundered: Frost Shield LV1]

[Skill Plundered: Jetstream Propulsion LV1]

[Skill Plundered: Spit Bolt LV4 → LV5]

[Skill Plundered: Current Sense LV1 → LV2]

[Skill Plundered: Pincer Strike LV1 → LV2]

…

Once the two pieces of inferior aquatic loot had been decomposed, Evan finally obtained the skills he wanted, though their Levels remained low.

After experimenting with several temporary Puffcaps, Evan soon understood how the new skills worked.

[Frostpath] and [Frost Shield] were both underwater skills taken from the Frost Eel.

The former briefly froze the surrounding water, while the latter temporarily created a shield of ice. Neither seemed particularly useful when installed in a Puffcap.

The giant prawn’s skill, on the other hand, looked far more suitable.

[Jetstream Propulsion] did exactly what its name suggested. By expelling water stored inside its body, the user gained a Haste effect underwater. It would be extremely useful for helping Puffcaps dodge attacks and escape.

In the end, he could always rely on his veteran employee, the bulwark Puffcap.

Once Evan confirmed the skill’s usefulness, every area of the Seventh Stratum already covered by the mycelial mat began producing bulwark Puffcaps.

With a little mana used to accelerate production, he estimated that he could collect all the aquatic skills he needed within half a month.

The rifts couldn’t be ignored. This was no time to conserve mana.

* * *

A palm-sized ball of fragrant bait floated on the water. Pale red material slowly dispersed beneath the surface while four Gold-rank adventurers waited in concealment near the shore.

A faint ripple appeared.

Every one of them instantly focused.

It was here!

A gigantic catfish burst from the water and swallowed the bait ball.

“Now!”

Brilliant light flared from the mage’s staff.

“Tier 5 Magic: Icebind!”

The waterway, more than thirty feet wide, froze in an instant. The catfish crashed heavily onto the ice, its tail trapped inside the frozen surface. Driven by the instinct to survive, it began thrashing violently.

“Don’t let it break the ice!” the party leader shouted as he charged forward.

Under his direction, the experienced adventurers quickly killed the nearly helpless catfish.

After cutting off its whiskers, the leader sliced open its belly. The whiskers could be used as potion ingredients, while a certain piece of flesh from its abdomen was considered a delicacy. It could fetch a decent price, though the party could always keep it and enjoy the meal themselves.

“Hm? What’s this?”

After rummaging around inside, the leader pulled a small sickle from the catfish’s belly and stared at it in confusion.

The sun blazed overhead.

Wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, Dylan lay spread-eagle across the aft deck. Between the relentless heat and the damp, salty sea breeze, he felt like a salted fish left out to dry.

The backpack mimicked by the scout Puffcap rested in the shade cast by the deckhouse. It still had plenty of mana today, so it wasn’t drawing any from Dylan.

Leather shoes scraped across the deck. A broad, dark-skinned man with one eye appeared on the aft deck carrying a sack. He spotted Dylan and his peculiar sunbathing pose at once, but clearly he had grown accustomed to the sight.

“Working on your tan again, Dylan? Not that you ever seem to get any darker.” The one-eyed man tossed the sack over the stern. “By the way, didn’t I tell you to use the foredeck? We still haven’t replaced some of the planks back here.”

Just as he said, one of the planks beneath Dylan had broken clean through at one end.

“Dumping garbage off the stern again, Garron?” Dylan opened one eye and watched the first mate step over him. “Sailors are constantly crossing the foredeck. I’d only get in their way if I lay there. Even if they didn’t complain, I’d feel bad about it.”

“You really are something…” Garron didn’t linger and soon disappeared back inside the ship.

Dylan remained where he was until evening, absorbing enough mana to last him for the next several days.

Afterward, he found the second mate and purchased a barrel of fresh water before returning to his cabin.

The second mate was a water mage. In exchange for thirty silver coins, Dylan could collect one barrel of water from him each day.

In truth, any reliable ship had someone capable of producing fresh water. Better-equipped vessels also carried priests skilled in healing, but this ship only had an ordinary physician.

After setting aside enough water to drink, Dylan placed the Puffcap in the barrel. Once it had absorbed its fill, he used a towel and the remaining water to wipe down his bright green body after canceling [Mimicry].

Through the window, Dylan watched the three differently colored moons rise one by one as he calculated the remaining journey.

They had already been at sea for more than twenty days. At this rate, they should reach Siren Isle in less than a week.

It wasn’t Dylan’s final destination, Silver Sands Bay, but ships traveled frequently between the Western Isles. Finding passage from Siren Isle to Silver Sands Bay should be easy.

Once he reached Silver Sands Bay, his first task would be finding a local information broker.

Dylan had spent much of the voyage thinking about himself and his daughter. Tensions on the continent were clearly worsening. War could break out at any time.

After finding Bella, perhaps he should tell her the truth about his current circumstances and take her to the dungeon until things settled down. At the very least, they could stay in a quiet town behind the lines like Hushwind, where they were less likely to be caught up in a war.

With the Boss supporting them, their safety would be far more secure.

Of course, Dylan would never allow Bella to be parasitized as well. Bella was a natural beauty. How could he let her become a grotesque mixture of flesh and hyphae like him?

And turning green was absolutely out of the question.

Clang, clang! Clang, clang!

An unfamiliar gong sounded outside the window, interrupting Dylan’s thoughts.

What had happened?

He slung the backpack over his shoulders and opened the cabin door. The other passengers were emerging from their rooms as well.

“It’s the Bloodshark!”

The moment Dylan stepped out of the deckhouse, he heard the sailor in the lookout repeatedly shouting the warning.

The Bloodshark?

That certainly sounded like the name of a pirate ship.

“Hard to port! Catch the westerlies! They’re lateen-rigged and much faster than us on a crosswind!” The captain, who was rarely seen under ordinary circumstances, now stood on deck shouting orders himself. “Get the rowers below! Move! Put your backs into it!”

Dylan ran to the railing and scanned the sea. He quickly spotted the lateen-rigged ship pursuing them, with a black flag faintly visible atop its mast.

Unlike the Windfeather, whose rowers were still scrambling into position, black oars were already rising and falling on both sides of the other vessel.

Dylan suspected the Bloodshark would catch them before the Windfeather could even accelerate, regardless of which ship was faster at full speed.

“How can they be moving so fast?” a sailor asked in disbelief.

The captain seemed to realize something as well. “Damn it! They must have a wind mage!”

He turned toward the passengers who had emerged to see what was happening.

“Are any of you wind mages? If you are, step forward now! If those pirates catch us, none of us will fare well!”

The passengers exchanged glances, but no one volunteered.

That was hardly surprising. The Windfeather was a cargo ship, and its eight or nine passengers had merely purchased passage along its route. Forget a wind mage, there might not have been a single mage among them.

“Back inside! Everyone back inside! Stay off the deck and out of the way!”

When no wind mage appeared, the captain immediately drove the passengers below. He had no time to deal with them now.

Some passengers were too anxious to obey, but Dylan returned to his cabin.

“Would a Diamond-rank adventurer ever become a pirate?” Evan asked through the Mycelial Network.

The two ships were still some distance apart, so Evan couldn’t see the Status Panels of those aboard the Bloodshark.

“Not many, but some do,” Dylan replied after a moment’s analysis. “Anyone bold enough to seize a ship alone would have at least several Gold-rank combatants. Whoever is filling their sails is definitely a Gold-rank mage.”

Several Gold-rank adventurers…

Judging by the knight they had killed earlier, the scout could reliably defeat one Gold-rank opponent. Two would take time. Three would force it into a difficult battle.

Add a mob of ordinary pirates, and matters would become even more troublesome.

Fortunately, the Windfeather wasn’t entirely defenseless. The captain was a LV42 warrior, while Garron, the first mate, was LV35. If a battle broke out, they could relieve some of the pressure.

Still…

“Dylan, do pirates in this region kill everyone after boarding a ship?”

According to the history Evan had read in his previous life, only the most vicious pirates routinely left no survivors.

Some large pirate organizations that controlled entire regions eventually transformed into groups that merely collected tolls from passing ships. But that wasn’t relevant here. The ship behind them clearly wasn’t one of those.

“Kill everyone? Probably not. But Boss, they’ll most likely capture everyone aboard and sell us as slaves…”

Did the rulers of the Western Isles simply tolerate such attacks on commerce?

Or were they unable to stop them?

There was no time to consider it further. The sound of the pirate ship closing in from behind was already audible through the cabin window.

The scout’s current appearance as a backpack was no longer suitable. If the pirates searched it, explaining what they found would be difficult.

Evan had no desire to be the first one to intervene. Whether he won or lost, a fight would expose too many secrets. If the pirates only wanted money, he had no intention of getting involved.

He had the scout Puffcap activate [Mimicry] again. The backpack quickly transformed into a solid wooden stool, with every tendril concealed inside its body.

“Quickly. Put me somewhere inconspicuous on the deck.”

Evan wanted the scout on deck so it wouldn’t be too far from Dylan if something happened.

As Dylan carried the disguised scout out of the cabin, he sensed something strange.

Had the ship slowed down?

He looked up and saw a white flag hanging from the mast.

So the captain knew when to accept defeat. The moment he realized they couldn’t escape, he had surrendered without hesitation.

Dylan set down the scout and looked toward the pirate ship, which had nearly pulled alongside them.

“Stay where you are! Nobody moves!”

The command came in a heavy regional accent. Several grappling hooks bit into the Windfeather’s railing, and moments later, more than thirty pirates vaulted onto the deck.

Their leader was a scar-faced man who spun a cutlass in one hand while surveying everyone aboard with a broad smile.

At the same time, Evan opened the Status Panel of every pirate.

Three Gold-rank combatants.

Pirate captain Caspar felt more than a little pleased with himself as he stepped onto the Windfeather’s deck.

The merchant ship’s captain was clearly experienced. He had reacted quickly the moment he spotted the Bloodshark. In the past, the two ships might have spent half a day in pursuit before the Bloodshark finally caught up with the merchantman.

Everything had changed once Caspar recruited a wind mage at great expense. Compared to the Bloodshark at full speed, an ordinary merchant ship moved like a child racing an adult.

Few mages were willing to remain aboard a ship for long.

Finding a mage to produce fresh water was easy enough. Even a low-ranking mage could handle that. But continuously filling a ship’s sails required at least a Gold-rank mage.

Life at sea was hard, but that wasn’t the only problem. Mages required a stable environment for meditation if they wanted to advance, along with access to knowledge if they wanted to learn new spells. A ship offered neither.

Generally speaking, only high-ranking mages who had abandoned any hope of further advancement or desperately needed money would choose a life at sea. Even then, they served aboard large, legitimate vessels. Ordinary merchant ships like the Windfeather rarely managed to hire one, let alone pirate ships.

Caspar had recruited a wind mage shortly after taking control of the Bloodshark. The mage had only agreed because he was a wanted man.

Caspar saw it as destiny’s favor. At long last, fortune had smiled upon him.

Boarding another ship was dangerous, so he had left the mage behind. The man wasn’t familiar with ropes and grappling lines. Caspar had brought only his first mate, second mate, and a little over thirty men.

That was more than enough. His informant had already told him everything about the Windfeather’s defenses.

Captain Gerhard and his sailors had gathered near the edge of the deckhouse. Although they had raised a white flag, they still held their swords and cutlasses. Clearly, they hadn’t surrendered completely. They still hoped to negotiate.

Caspar was in no hurry. The ship was already his.

One particularly perceptive pirate swaggered forward. He walked straight into the cluster of sailors and snatched up a tall stool nearly as large as a barrel. When he hefted it experimentally, he found it far lighter than expected.

Evan and Dylan: ???

The surrounding sailors were visibly tense, and several tightened their grips on their cutlasses. The pirate acted as though he hadn’t noticed. He deliberately paraded the stool in front of them before carrying it over to Caspar with a fawning smile.

By the time the pirate swaggered away, the sailors’ already meager morale had visibly fallen.

Dylan stretched out a hand but couldn’t think of any reason to stop him. In the end, he could only watch in horror as Caspar sat down squarely on the stool.

Caspar gave the pirate an approving look. The man was bold and clever, and the position of boatswain happened to be vacant.

Still, was it his imagination, or was the stool a little soft?

To avoid exposing itself, the scout Puffcap strained to hold its body rigid.

Caspar subtly shifted his weight, then decided he must have imagined it.

Of course, even if the stool were made of paper, he would have to hold himself in a squat and pretend to sit. Otherwise, all the pressure his subordinate had just created would go to waste.

The tactic had certainly worked.

The sailors looked thoroughly intimidated. Even Garron, the first mate, kept averting his eyes and no longer projected the slightest authority. Gerhard had no choice but to step forward.

“Men of the Bloodshark, this ship is carrying Breath of Oblivion for Lord Glossa. We’re willing to surrender one-third of the cargo in exchange for safe passage!”

Glossa was one of the Three Slave Lords of the Western Isles and controlled Silver Sands Bay, Dylan’s final destination. Breath of Oblivion was a common potion used in the training of slaves.

Dylan looked at the captain in surprise. He hadn’t known the Windfeather was working for Glossa as well.

Gerhard invoked Glossa’s name because even the pirates of the Western Isles followed certain rules. Dig deeply enough into the background of most pirate captains, and some connection to one of the Three Slave Lords would emerge.

When these pirates encountered ships unaffiliated with the Three Slave Lords, they left no survivors. When they attacked a ship belonging to one of the other two Slave Lords, they took only one-quarter of its cargo.

The arrangement allowed the great slave lords to suppress smaller emerging powers throughout the Western Isles. It also provided them with a way to compete without openly turning against one another.

Gerhard offered one-third of his cargo because the Bloodshark’s men had come on far too aggressively. They didn’t appear interested in following the usual rules, and he couldn’t tell what they intended. His only choice was to accept a larger loss in exchange for safety.

Caspar merely sneered. “You think one-third is enough to send me away?”

“What do you want?” Gerhard struggled to keep his voice steady, but he couldn’t hide his unease. If Caspar demanded half the cargo now, Gerhard would accept the loss.

“I want all of it.”

“You intend to break the rules?”

Caspar bared his teeth in a grin. “I don’t just want all your cargo. I want your ship and everyone aboard it.”

“You… Are you trying to start a war? Where’s Wright? I demand to speak with him!”

Dylan and the other passengers had no idea who Wright was, but the Bloodshark’s pirates clearly did.

They exchanged glances, then burst out laughing.

Caspar’s grin widened. “That coward Wright is feeding the fish. The Bloodshark answers to me now. Who cares about Glossa? Glossa’s ships are exactly what I intend to take!”

“Shit!” Realizing there would be no peaceful resolution, Gerhard raised his sword and shouted to the sailors. “Take up your weapons! Unless you want to be enslaved and tortured to death, fight!”

The sailors tightened their grips on their weapons. Even several passengers armed themselves. The pirates clearly had no intention of treating them differently.

Gerhard pointed his sword at Caspar. “Don’t force my hand. If a fight breaks out, there won’t be much cargo left for you!”

Gerhard was Gold-rank himself. Even if he couldn’t win, he might be able to sink the ship if he devoted himself entirely to destruction, leaving both sides with nothing.

Under the circumstances, the threat was his only remaining option.

Caspar watched the Windfeather’s captain perform with cold amusement. Then he raised his right hand.

Everyone’s attention shifted toward him, uncertain what the gesture meant.

The instant Caspar clenched his hand into a fist, a dagger punched through Gerhard’s chest.

“Garron?”

The dagger had been aimed at Gerhard’s heart. But Gerhard was Gold-rank, and at the last possible instant, he managed to twist aside. The strike didn’t kill him outright, though his condition was scarcely better.

Gerhard spun and lashed out in fury, but Garron had been prepared and evaded the blow. Before anyone else could react, he hurried to Caspar’s side and bowed his head.

“Lord Caspar, everything has been done as you requested.”

“Excellent! Excellent!” Caspar clapped Garron on the shoulder. “You planted guiding beacons throughout the journey and eliminated our greatest obstacle. You’ve earned the highest credit for this raid. Once we return, I’ll personally introduce you to our patron!”

Garron couldn’t suppress his delighted grin.

“Garron! You bastard! You served under me for eight years!” Gerhard lay sprawled on the deck, blood spilling from his mouth as he cursed him.

“Don’t put it like that, Captain. Men like us are only trying to make a living. If you want someone to blame, blame yourself for not being cautious enough.”

Garron spoke lightly, without the slightest trace of guilt.

“You!”

Gerhard coughed up another mouthful of blood. With trembling hands, he pulled out an emergency healing potion and drained it.

The pirates had no intention of waiting for him to recover.

Caspar waved a hand. “Take them all… Awooooooo!”

Caspar’s sudden howl brought the pirates’ charge to an abrupt halt. Every one of them turned to stare at him.

Had the captain… sat on a nail?

After a brief bout of howling, Caspar suddenly fell silent.

“Captain?” Garron ventured from nearby.

His entire future now depended on Caspar. Of everyone present, he was even more concerned about Caspar’s well-being than the Bloodshark’s two ship officers.

Caspar’s arm trembled slightly. Then he raised it and gave a casual wave, indicating that nothing was wrong.

Garron relaxed.

The two Gold-rank officers, however, both stepped back the instant they saw the stiffness of that gesture. They raised their weapons and faced Caspar.

“What the hell are you?” one of them shouted, horror creeping into his voice.

“What’s wrong?” Garron hadn’t realized what was happening at all. Why had the Bloodshark’s pirates suddenly turned against one another?

Even if they intended to start fighting among themselves, shouldn’t they deal with the Windfeather’s crew first?

Disappointed that he had failed to deceive the two pirate officers, Evan withdrew the scout Puffcap’s mycelial tendril from Caspar’s body. With the same motion, he slashed open the throat of the bewildered Garron standing in front of him.

Evan had hoped to ambush one more Gold-rank combatant.

Just as Gerhard hadn’t expected Garron’s betrayal, Garron had never imagined he would be attacked in front of Caspar, much less by the stool beneath him.

Garron clutched his throat with one hand while fumbling desperately at his waist with the other. He was trying to retrieve a potion from the pouch there. A severed throat could still be treated if he acted quickly enough.

The scout slashed his wrist.

Evan ignored the