Shadowcroft Academy Year 2 - Chapter Twenty

Logan had no choice. The Boundless Wheel technique couldn’t handle the energy flowing through him. In desperation, he switched to the Radiant Serpent Under the Glowing Moon Technique. He pressed his eyes shut tight and envisioned his core. It was a perfect marble of jade and gray energy, shot through with veins of golden power. Always before there had been spindly threads of energy trailing from his core; but no longer. Boundless Wheel had done its job well, transforming Logan’s center into a flawless orb. It was possible that Boundless Wheel had actually done the job a bit too well.

His core was pulsing swelling and contract as he breathed in through is gills and exhaled through his mouth. The problem was not necessarily the core itself but rather the delicate knot encircling his core which, in turned, connected to his meridians. Those meridians were the channels and pathways that allowed him to cycle energy throughout his body, reinforcing his eyes and skin, manifesting weapons, controlling his minions. But even at a glance, it was obvious that both his knot and meridians were far too scrawny to handle the energy pulsing at his center.

It was like watching a flood waters fruitlessly attempting to flow through a narrow irrigation ditch. Logan groaned. That hippy, dippy snake-tailed naga had been right. The problem wasn’t his core, it was the infrastructure and now he was at a point of crisis. Logan pushed away the panic filling his belly with dread and focus on what Moonsap had taught him. He was a little boat on the vast sea of the universe, the Apothos was the wind, and all he could do was lift the sail and pray that the wind would find him. Where it took him? It wasn’t any of his business.

Yep. Logan’s destiny, his life, wasn’t any of his business.

For the first time since he’d gotten to Shadowcroft, Logan stopped trying to be in control. Instead, he surrendered to the energy and let the Apothos work through him. The pain was excruciating at first, the energy surging into his meridians. His natural instinct was the clamp down and halt the flow of power, lest he be swept away—but that was the path of the Boundless Wheel and not the path of the Radiant Serpent Under the Glowing Moon. The Serpent didn’t control the moon—couldn’t control its power or light or radiance. All the serpent could do was accept it for what it was and bask in its heavenly glow.

Going against every natural instinct, Logan released his mental grip on his core and let the energy flow without hindrance. He opened his meridians, preparing to be destroyed by the power and not caring. What would be would be. He breathed deeply through the raging pain, his meridians stretching and expanding, the knot encircling his core swelling by the second. Then, in a snap, ALL THE ENERGY FROM THE WHOLE SUMMER came crashing down on him like a sledgehammer. He rode that wave out of the cemetery, out of the Sacred Hollow, and into darkness.

He wasn’t sure if he was conscious or not, if suddenly he was thrown into a dream, or if he’d imagined the entire swamp cemetery thing. But he found himself walking the logs of the swamp again, back under a cloudy sky, in a warm rain, that felt so good on his damp skin. The heavy moss on the green trees offered him shade. He had moisture and darkness and tons of Apothos. What more could a little mushroom man want?

He swung over more dark water, that may or may not have stars in it. Was it a channel of swamp water or the darkness of space? Logan wasn’t sure. But tiptoeing across another rotten log brought him back to the island cemetery, only this time instead of tombstones there were mushrooms everywhere. An army of them, beautiful and otherworldly, glowing with the light of a thousand colors.

And at the center? Where Anna’s, Moisha’s, and Vilhelm’s graves were? There stood three mushroom clusters, one a dazzling carpet of yellow fungi, not unlike his current form, a tall collection of floppy gray blue-blue spore trees, and a big patch of firm wide-capped black mushrooms.

Intuitively, he knew he had a choice of which mushroom to take. Whichever one he chose would fundamentally alter his class forever. He wasn’t just advancing a few ranks, he was advancing to a new class entirely. This was evolution and it would forever change his path going forward. Taking a deep, calming breath, he padded forward and traced his fingers over the yellow fungi, breathing in their earth scent, feeling the rigid flesh. A prompt appeared, hovering in midair:

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Golden Myco Knight

Clad in ornate plate-mail like chitin, the Golden Myco Knight is by far the heartiest and most durable of all the fungaloid evolutionary forms. Instead of relying on lures, deception, and traps, the Golden Myco Knight is an offensive powerhouse who cultivates speed and strength, which make them deadly combatants in direct battle. Golden Myco Knights will often augment their bodies with Crimson Coral Fungus—a breed of glassy pink fungus that is deadly sharp and naturally poisonous. Those fungaloids who follow this path usually focus on hard-hitting minions such as Spore Wargs, Deathcap Warriors, and powerful Mycotic Shambles to overwhelm opposition the moment they enter the dungeon.

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Logan read over the description, letting his mind wander as his feet carried him forward. Next, he trailed his outstretched hand over the glowing cobalt mushrooms.

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Sporrior Sorcerer

Masters of Apothos manipulation, Sporrior Sorcerers rely not on their physical prowess in battle but rather on harnessing the potent power of spores to obliterate all that would come against them. Though physical weak and especially vulnerable to fire, Sporrior Sorcerers are able to unlock the deadliest and most powerful spore forms available to fungaloids, which they unleash to devastating effect.

Kill, rot, ensnare, bewitch, resurrect, all are within the formidable powers of the Sporrior Sorcerer. The fungaloids who follow this path often focus on domesticating fungal colonies to slow and hinder their opponents, such as Demon Fingers, Ghoul’s Snare, Blister Wart, or Sunflower Pods. Such delaying tactics prolong spore exposure for invading dungeoneers, increasing spore effectiveness and lethality.

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That certainly had potential, Logan thought, while moving on to the third and last group of mushrooms in a dream-like daze. These were wide-capped black mushrooms, so dark they seemed to eat the light itself.

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Nightfell Monarch

Though often associated with death and decay because of their dark coloring and reliance on the dead, Nightfell Monarchs are actually creatures of balance. Where others see only obliteration in death and decay, these creatures see it as a transformative act—life, devoured by death, only to be born again in a new and different form. Nightfell Monarchs recognize their place in the order of things and are the most likely to partner with the living in order to accomplish the work of the dead.

In combat, Nightfell Monarchs seek the middle ground between the offensive Golden Myco Knight and the defensive Spore-casting Sporrior Sorcerer. In truth, these fungaloid rulers are support casters by nature. They tend to rely on augmented minions and their symbiotic bonds with others to do most of the heavy lifting where combat is involved. In exchange, those who form bonds with Nightfell Monarchs can gain powerful abilities.

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Logan let his hand fall away as he considered his options.

He had to admit there was an immediate appeal to the Golden Spore Knight. Since coming to Shadowcroft he’d always been smaller and weaker than everyone else—even Marco could take him in a flat-out brawl. The idea of being a B-Class Azure Branch Cultivator who could go toe to toe with someone like Jimi Magmarty would be a dream come true. If he’d been as strong as Treacle, then Chadrigoth never would’ve been able to take his core the way he had back in Vralkag.

But, Logan was smart enough to know that was a short-term option. Sure, it would feel great to stand eye to eye with Chadrigoth, but his gut told him that a physical powerhouse would quickly plateau. Jimi Magmarty was pound for pound stronger than Chadrigoth, yet he played second fiddle because Chad had access to both strength and potent powers. The Sporrior Sorcerer was closer to Logan’s style, but he didn’t relish to idea of having a glass jaw—one hit and he’d be taken out of the fight. Still, there was no doubt a straight spell caster would be more powerful long term, than a simple brute force brawler.

But he knew that wasn’t going to be his choice either. He’d already made up his mind and knew that Nightfell Monarch was in the cards. Sure, he would end up in the role of support player, but so what? He didn’t need to be center stage and he was more than happy to help his friends shine. That’s where his true strength lay anyway. He thought of his friends, how capable they were, how wonderfully driven and exciting they were. Treacle and his gadgets. Marko with his arts. Inga, who was so talented and smart and brave.

He’d only made it this far because of them and that’s where his future lay. There was strength in brotherhood.

He fell forward, arms out-stretched, and went face first into the black mushroom patch. The world tilted on its edge, stars whirling around him. An eyeblink later he flopped right into his cot during his deployment in Fallujah—this was the night before he lost his leg. He and his unit were hunkered down in a condemned former Iraqi-squad bay just inside of Al Taqaddum air base.  He spun off the bed and planted two human feet on the floor. All of his buddies, those who would die and those would survive, slept all around him.

Beneath the buzz of the AC unit filled the air and beneath that was the rustling and shifting of bodies. People sleeping, snoring, farting; the reek of unwashed bodies and dust covered BDUs lingering over everything like a cloud. He had to laugh a little. He wasn’t really there, but it did make him consider his old life. Back then, he’d been a 25B—an Information Tech Specialist—basically IT support, but they didn’t need a lot of IT support, so instead he’d been attached to an infantry unit as comm support.

Even then, his job had been to keep his unit connected with Army command to make sure they had the resources they needed.

He stood up and the barracks were gone, whisked away in an instant. Suddenly, he was in the living room of his parent’s house, and his three dogs came running into the room. He cast a nervous glance at the TV, but the vicious mimic gaming system was nowhere to be seen.

He pet his three dogs, Noodle Doodle, Princess Peach, and Booker DeWitt, feeling a pang of sadness as he ran a hand through fur. This was his chance to say goodbye, to scratch them, and pet them and give them love one last time. He’d just told Princess Peach she was such a good girl when he heard Ramon Garciacalling over to him. Turning his head brought him to the last job site he’d worked. Building Grady Henderson’s deck in Thornton. He was with his foreman and his crew again, and just seeing Ramon’s smile made his heart leap. He’d spent many a day working his landscaping business, and making do with the prosthetic leg, which would get super sweaty in the summer.

Tyler had his phone out, playing Radiohead songs, and Logan was liking how the job was going. They’d take off and eat lunch together, talk trash, and generally enjoy the day. Logan would see his Uncle Bud that night, and he knew they’d reminisce about Logan’s father, Bud’s brother. The world stretched and tilted once more. Logan felt the eternity in each of those little moments.

Logan had been given a handful of minutes, and he needed to use them to make other people’s lives better. Really, he needed to serve the Tree of Souls and keep it alive, which would keep Earth alive, and all of his friends and the little family he had left.

Logan leaned on his post hole digger and turned to see a beautiful tree in Grady Henderson’s backyard. It had silver bark and leaves of every color. The branches extended up into the sky, as far as he could see. Logan sighed, contentedly, feeling at one with the Tree.

As he watched, the leaves began to vibrate and quiver, manic energy racing through the ground and up into Logan’s body. He was lifted up out of the suburban backyard and sent whirling up into the sky and beyond until he was standing on a tree limb, miles wide, under galaxies spinning through the universe overhead. That branch could take him anywhere, to all possible worlds, across all of creation. There would beauty, there would horror, there would sadness, and adventure. It was all a mix.

Then Logan saw the 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. And lastly, the phoenix woman held a spear of pure fire, flickering from gold to orange to red. That was okay, 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 Dragon 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 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 dragon 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 snake 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 snake. 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 metamorphoses 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 and his hands 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 laying 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 release 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 the 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 Environmentsclass 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.