Chương 120: Penicillium - Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine I patted Sir Nibbles' coarse fur back and rubbed my fingertips into his scalp. Not to check for injuries--though I had done that--but because the little shit was convinced that he deserved all the attention in the world. To be fair, he had just saved me, maybe, so I wasn't going to complain overly much. We were in the boss' room, Phillipe and Tyro stomping around and checking things out while I sat near the centre where the shaman's fire had been left unattended.

The warmth of it felt good, and I could use a bit of that at the moment. Besides, I was cooking a few things, using the break I'd been given as best as I could. I was injured. Not seriously injured. There were a few new rips in my overalls, and there had been an embarrassing moment where I had to pull them down for Phillipe to wrap some bandages over my torso and legs, so I looked partially mummy-like under the surface. The worst of my injuries was a nasty poke in my side.

A piece of wood from the exploded door had jammed itself right through the thick cotton of my overalls and into my skin. It required picking out little bits of wooden shrapnel before shoving a bandage on. None of it was fatal. At least, not immediately.

"Alright," I said as I pulled one hand off of Sir Nibbles and adjusted the stick I had over the fire.

"Come and eat, boys." There were mushrooms on it, of course. [Healing Bottle] mushrooms, as well as a trio of the precious [Tubershroom] mushrooms that I'd just picked earlier. I wasn't sure how potent the latter would be. It seemed more like a long-term healing promotion kind of thing, but I figured every little bit helped. The main goal was to prevent any potential infection from setting in, after all, and anything that gave the body a boost would help fight that kind of thing off.

Plus the mushrooms smelled tasty and having a full stomach couldn't hurt, both with healing and with morale. That had been a close call. The shaman had gotten a single good spell off, and that was nearly the end for our little group. What if it had started with something more potent? What if it had done the smart thing and stayed way back, pelting us with magic from afar while we recovered from its first attack? A lot of 'what ifs' that mostly ended with us being dead.

But hey, we hadn't died, so it was all a rather moot point in the end.

"Thanks," Tyro said as he took the mushrooms I gingerly held out to him. Not a moment too soon, too, because they were burning the tips of my fingers as I held them out.

"These will heal us?"

"One will heal you, very, very slowly. The other will promote healing over the long term. I don't know if you'll even see much from that one," I said.

"But better some than none."

"Richer folk tend to have foods like that," Phillipe said.

"Though they're usually prepared by people with chef classes who can boost whatever positive effect a food has."

"Hmm," I muttered as I took my own and started chewing. The [Tubershroom] was pretty good. It tasted a bit like a yam, actually. A lighter, fluffier yam, with a hint of a meatier aftertaste. It was different, but not bad. Maybe with some bacon on the side. And rosemary and caramelised onions. Actually, anything would taste good with that.

"Once we've finished with our snacks... do we keep going?" I asked. Phillipe chewed thoughtfully for a long while.

"Normally," he finally said once he swallowed.

"I would reconsider continuing. What with the state we're in." Phillipe had a few bandages of his own on. His thicker clothes--practically a gambeson--and greater constitution had meant that any injury he took was little more than a few scratches against hardened skin. Tyro hadn't been quite so lucky. The boy had taken a cut to the head that had bled profusely, the way any cut to the skull did. He also earned himself a few cuts on his swinging arm.

I suspected that he had blocked his face with it, and so it had been hit by a scattering of wooden splinters. He had been complaining at length about pulling little bits of wood out of his arm already. Really, the damage had been more psychological than physical. Tyro was subdued for a while and we came out of what was a twenty-second engagement more tired than we'd been from facing entire rooms before. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"But," Phillipe continued.

"The rest of the dungeon is nothing but corridor until we reach the end." He gestured to the stairs at the end of the room. They were narrow steps that lead off into some unknown depths. A bit of light came from within them, probably from the same methane-like torches I'd seen hanging off a few walls on this level.

"Nothing but corridors?" I asked. He nodded.

"The entrance room, then the room before the core. That's all we'll have to deal with. The entrance is unlikely to have anything to challenge us. Then the penultimate room of the dungeon... that might be somewhat difficult."

"What's down there?" Tyro asked.

"Spiders," Phillipe said.

"Spiders like on the topmost floors?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No. These are smarter. They can communicate with each other with clicks and they're a little larger." He held his hands out, outlining something about the size of a larger dog.

"Do they need to breathe?" I asked. He nodded.

"Well then," I replied.

"My mushrooms might work on them."

"Might?" Tyro asked.

"Might," I repeated.

"Insects and arachnids don't have lungs the way you and I do. I think they have book lungs? They won't have bronchi the way humans do, so I'm not sure if my neurotoxins would work on them in any case. Their brains have to be very different than a mammal's, structurally."

"So, you don't have anything to help us?" Phillipe asked.

"I didn't say that," I said.

"They mostly attack from stealth, right?"

"They do," Phillipe said. He was eyeing me now, clearly aware that I had an idea.

"That suggests that they're not great in a fight," I said.

"Unless that's a mistake?"

"It isn't. They're not particularly strong, nor are they too heavy. They weigh surprisingly little, actually. They do have good reach, and plenty of limbs to grapple you with."

"Well, I can negate one of their advantages right out," I said as I reached into my satchel. I pulled out a purple-striped mushroom that I'd wrapped in a little bit of cloth to keep safe. A [Purple Ghoul Watcher]. Tyro squinted at the mushroom.

"Another one that lets you see in the dark?"

"Not quite. This one lets you see life-essence."

"That's necromancy," Phillipe said. The declaration gave me pause.

"We're not bringing the dead back to life here," I said as I wiggled the mushroom around.

"We're just using this to see life." He pursed his lips.

"That's still one of the first signs that someone is dabbling in necromancy."

"Come on, old man," Tyro said. He plucked the mushroom from my hand.

"This is a big advantage, isn't it? And I doubt Ginger here is going to turn us into ghouls."

"Zombies," Phillipe corrected, though I really didn't know the difference.

"And.. yes, I suppose you're right. Are there any side effects?" I pulled out another two of the same mushroom, then nodded.

"Yes. They're poisonous." Tyro, who'd already taken a big chomp of his, paused mid-chew.

"Wha?" he asked with a full mouth. I used my [Poison Handling Expertise] skill on the mushroom I held. [Purple Ghoul Watcher] This mushroom contains a weak magical poison that lowers the consumer's body temperature. Over consumption can lead to death. Consumers may experience trembling and numbness in their extremities, and may suffer from a mild fever without their conscious notice.

"It won't kill you," I told Tyro as I took a bite from my own and handed Phillipe the last. It would, under most circumstances, be stupid of me to eat the entire mushroom, but I wanted to reassure Tyro, and I had a number of immunities to poisons, especially those I'd grown myself.

"You'll feel cold, and your fingertips and toes might go numb. You've been outside in winter without gloves before?" Phillipe chuckled.

"See, it's not so bad." Tyro continued chewing, but he looked dubious, which I supposed was fair.

"A bit of cold is a small price to pay to be immune to ambushes," I said.

"I guess it's better to be poisoned by this than to have to deal with the spiders' poison," he said.

"Venom," Phillipe and I corrected at the same time.