The next morning.

“Four intermediate healing potions, three basic mana potions, and three bottles of general antidote. All here, please check.”

The clerk slid the oil-paper-wrapped box across the counter. Vera took it carefully and tucked it away.

Filin had gone to buy food, firestones, and other small supplies. Fiyin said she needed to prepare some powders; she should be done by the time they returned.

Pushing open the wooden door of the shop, Vera was about to head back when a shady-looking man sidled up to him.

“Hey, little brother, you look new around here?”

Vera frowned, stepping back two paces, trying to go around him.

Did he look that easy to pick on?

Why did people always show up with nonsense like this?

But the thug stepped forward again, closing in.

Vera’s hand dropped to his scimitar. If this weren’t within town limits, the blade would already be out.

“Whoa, whoa, no malice, little brother!”

The man waved quickly to show he meant no harm. Vera only stared, waiting for him to get to the point.

“I just wanted to ask… do you need a bit of Yafeng Town’s specialty?”

Specialty?

Vera had lived here before. If anything in the dungeon counted as a specialty, none of it stood out as representing the whole town.

Surely he didn’t mean the closed-down Rotten Willow Tavern’s cheap liquor?

But then the thug reached into his shirt and fished out a small, grimy pouch.

“How about some mushrooms?” he said, showing bits of green fungus inside.

…

…

…

Mushrooms. Mushrooms everywhere.

That was Vera’s impression of Yafeng Town now.

That mushroom soup yesterday hadn’t been unique to that restaurant—every tavern in town served it now.

The reason was simple: cheap.

Almost no cost. Anyone could stroll through the dungeon’s first floor and come back with armfuls of fungi.

This became even clearer once Vera’s group entered the dungeon themselves.

The ground might look the same thanks to foot traffic.

But ceilings and cracks in the walls brimmed with mycelium and glowing mushrooms.

From the first floor to the fourth, wherever feet didn’t trample, fungus grew.

Even the staircases linking floors had mycelium crawling along the circular walls, as if tying all levels together.

And yet, the adventurers didn’t mind.

On the contrary, if you didn’t mind eating glowing porridge every day, you barely needed provisions.

Just be careful not to mix in the green mushrooms—they were toxic. All mushrooms glowed, and poor eyesight could lead to mistakes.

Still, green mushrooms weren’t totally useless. Like that thug earlier, people ground them into cheap “sleeping powder.”

If the mushrooms brought any real trouble, it was that the firegrass had vanished.

At least on the first five floors.

Gone was the warm orange glow of firegrass, replaced by eerie fungal light.

The dungeon looked far more sinister now—ghosts could drift out any second and no one would be surprised.

On the spiral staircase leading down to the fifth floor, the mushrooms’ pale glow lit each step.

Filin muttered, “They should just call this the Mushroom Dungeon.”

Fiyin nodded. “All mushrooms… and blobs.”

Along the way, they’d already seen two battles between blobs and slimes, even managing to scavenge some loot.

Reaching the bottom half of the stairwell, they heard noise below.

At the base, more than twenty adventurers lounged in groups, resting. Some even lit campfires, looking as if they’d been there a while.

The newcomers drew glances, but nothing more.

“What are they doing?” Filin whispered.

Vera shrugged. How should he know?

But he noticed a sign at the exit.

Walking closer, he read aloud.

“Rules of the Fifth Floor…”

It was like an expanded version of the “guide” he’d once received.

The fact that the adventurers let the sign stand meant it was reliable.

The last rule read: If you see a black, winged humanoid, retreat immediately.

But someone had scratched it out and carved new words below: Do not enter at night.

“Do not enter at night?”

Vera now realized many of the adventurers carried Moonstones.

But judging by time and pace, it wasn’t night yet.

He’d better ask.

Vera scanned the crowd and picked out a dwarf polishing an axe.

When he approached, the dwarf raised the weapon warily.

But once Vera explained and slipped him a silver coin, the dwarf turned instantly chatty, as if greeting an old friend.

“So everything on that sign is true?” Vera declined the dwarf’s offered mushroom soup and asked.

The dwarf didn’t mind, downing a gulp himself. The glow clung to his beard.

“Of course it’s true. No idea which kind soul posted it.

At first, people didn’t believe. One by one, they got stripped clean by blobs. After that, no one doubted.”

He chuckled at the memory.

Vera nodded, then pressed on. “And that last line—what happens at night?”

The dwarf gave a knowing look, leaned close, and whispered: “The Big Black Shroom.”

“The… Big Black Shroom?”

“That’s right! A man-sized blob, covered in thick black scales.

Stronger than gold rank, can’t be beaten. At night, it roams between the fifth and sixth floors.

Not guaranteed you’ll run into it, but if you do, it’ll rob you!”

Vera’s eyes widened. “It can move between floors? You mean… it can enter the staircases?”

“I know, shocking, isn’t it?” The dwarf clapped his shoulder. “But it’s true. Probably another aftereffect of the mana tide.”

The mana tide.

Adventurers blamed nearly every dungeon change on that, from the mushrooms to this monster.

“You said it ‘might’ rob people. Why might?”

“Depends if you’ve got something shiny. Rings, magic crystals, glass beads—it takes what it likes.

That’s why we say best not to go at night. No chance of meeting it, no risk.”

“Then why are you all waiting here? It’s not night yet.” Vera asked his last question.

The dwarf grinned slyly. “Because we’re here to hunt it, of course!”