Ninety whole gold coins.

That was the income Dylan got after selling off all the Parasitic Tree seeds he had brought out, and that was even at a low price, bundled together for quick sale.

He could still recall the glint in that goateed merchant’s eyes when he deliberately drove the price down.

If Dylan had taken more time, he might have doubled the profit without much trouble.

But time was exactly what he lacked.

This was the largest sum of money he had ever held in his life, and he spent it without a moment’s hesitation.

After buying a Reversal Potion at a markup of fifty-five gold, Dylan rode without pause toward Finlad—a border village where all the original residents had been relocated, converted into a treatment site for the wounded.

Bella had been sent there after being struck with Blood Poison. She was kept in the village church along with other victims, their transformation suppressed each day by priests using holy light.

But even then, the treatment could only hold out for three months at most. By the time Dylan received the news, a month had already passed.

Now the deadline was near, and Dylan dared not waste a single moment.

Perhaps due to his parasitism, Dylan had found he needed less and less sleep lately.

That should be considered a blessing, giving him more time to travel.

And thanks to the gold, he could constantly change horses along the way, riding day and night without pause.

Although he had run into danger more than once, in the end he reached the border earlier than expected.

On the narrow path, Dylan dismounted before reaching the village. There was still some distance left, and he dared not ride straight in openly.

With half his face crawling with mycelium, he would never pass inspection. He had to slip in quietly if he wanted to see his daughter.

He loosened the reins and smacked the horse’s flank, watching it gallop off into the distance. Never had he imagined he would one day live so extravagantly.

The sun had already set—he could use the cover of night to sneak inside.

Clutching the package with the potion tightly to his chest, the closer he drew to the village, the more tense Dylan felt.

Three months were nearly up. Had Bella really lasted this long?

Would the Reversal Potion he carried even work?

Or what if—

“Bella… you must be alright…”

Suddenly, Dylan wrinkled his brow and sniffed hard.

Somewhere in the air drifted a charred, bloody stench.

He froze for a heartbeat, then sprinted up the slope—only to see the entire village of Finlad engulfed in flames.

Silhouettes flickered in the leaping firelight. Amid the clash of metal, screams and cries echoed faintly.

What was this? Vampires?

No—this was a raid. An army had struck, and such a small outpost had no hope of resisting.

Bella…!

Dylan’s eyes locked on the direction of the church. Thankfully it was not yet ablaze, but danger loomed every moment.

He had to reach Bella quickly!

The instant he stepped into the village, it was as if he had entered hell.

Thick smoke churned through the night sky, glowing with embers. Blood clung sticky to his boots. Thatched roofs collapsed in flames on either side.

Suddenly, three routed soldiers burst out from a house, faces blackened by smoke, terror etched in every line. They brushed past Dylan, fleeing for the village outskirts.

Moments later, a terrified scream cut through the air.

Turning back, Dylan saw one of the men fall, chest torn open, twitching in his final moments. The other two had vanished.

Beside him crouched a figure—something almost human but not—gnawing like a beast on still-living flesh.

“Blood Feeder…”

The creature seemed absorbed in its meal for now, not noticing Dylan.

He had no wish to linger. Turning to leave, he found another standing in his path.

A female-shaped Blood Feeder stared at him with crimson eyes full of ravenous hunger.

Her skin bristled with hard protrusions, making her look even less human than Dylan himself.

This one clearly wouldn’t let him pass. Dylan drew the longsword at his waist.

It was forged from fine steel, even better quality than the blade he had lost in the Dungeon. Yet he could not be sure it would be enough against this Blood Feeder.

The creature bent its knees and lunged.

So fast!

[Parry LV4]

Dylan barely managed to raise his blade across his chest. When claws clashed with steel, sparks flew, and a violent force hurled him meters back.

He slammed hard into a wall, coughing up blood laced with threads of fungus.

Strong—one blow was enough to tell him her attributes far outstripped his own, even at his peak.

A Blood Feeder’s strength was directly tied to the strength of the one transformed.

Dylan cursed inwardly. What the hell were the border forces doing, letting so many strong warriors fall to Blood Poison?!

The creature gave him no time to recover, striking again at his throat.

In desperation, Dylan pulled a scroll from his gear and cast it at the monster.

[Blindness]

“Grahhh!”

He had expected danger here on the border—of course he had prepared.

The scroll, worth five gold, clouded her sight for now.

But instead of retreating, the Blood Feeder grew even more feral, attacking wildly by instinct.

“Agh!”

The claws that had aimed for his throat pierced Dylan’s left arm, pinning him to the wall with brute force.

A bloodthirsty grin spread across her face.

The other claw lashed out at his torso.

It gouged the wall with deep scars—but struck nothing.

“Die!”

Dylan’s roar came from behind her, his strike fueled with everything he had left.

[Fury LV3]

[Whirlwind Slash LV5]

The fine steel blade bit into her hardened neck, cutting two-thirds through before the Blood Feeder’s claws caught the blade.

She could not comprehend it—how had he ended up behind her? She had just pinned him to the wall!

She tried to shove the sword aside, but blood poured from her torn throat. Her strength drained with each heartbeat…

“Die!”

With a final roar, Dylan severed her head and hand in one stroke.

Panting heavily, bloodied head to toe, he kicked the corpse away in rage.

He stooped to retrieve his own torn-off arm.

Binding it crudely with bandages, he felt the writhing of mycelium slowly knitting it back together.

He was growing more and more used to this warped body.

Though he wondered uneasily—how much of his flesh would fuse with fungus this time? How much of him was still human?

Behind him, the first Blood Feeder paid no mind to her companion’s death, still feasting eagerly on half a corpse.

Dylan silently thanked the soldier for his sacrifice. Facing another Blood Feeder right now would finish him.

He downed a full vial of mana potion, feeding the fungus within to heal his internal injuries.

Dragging his battered body, he staggered toward the church.

Was it just his imagination, or had the sounds of battle grown quieter?

Was the fight nearly over?

He only prayed the Blood Feeders had not won. More than that—he prayed he would not see his daughter already turned.

If Bella truly had transformed…

Dylan tightened his grip on the sword.

Then he would free her himself.