Deep underground, inside the massive, suffocating lair of the Megamycete, pale blue phosphorescence flickered through the veins of black fungus.
Mia clutched the specially-made metal canister Miranda had just handed her, the one containing the core memory-network data of the Megamycete. Her task was done, and the only thought in her head now was to get out of this godforsaken place as fast as possible and make sure Ethan was safe.
But just as she was about to turn and take her leave, Miranda suddenly raised a hand.
Beneath the golden mask, Miranda's cold eyes flickered with shock, which quickly gave way to an irrepressible fervor. As the absolute ruler of this land, anywhere the Mold touched was an extension of her sight and her touch.
"How... utterly extraordinary." Miranda murmured, her voice carrying a tremor she hadn't felt in a century.
"Lady Miranda?" Mia's heart lurched, and a terrible premonition seized her.
Miranda ignored her and gave a casual wave. The black mold beside her writhed and wove itself together, forming a blurry but legible "screen" in midair.
On it, fog swirled through the village streets, and Ethan was walking side by side with a man in a windbreaker, a rusty shovel in his grip, heading toward Castle Dimitrescu. And on Ethan's left arm, there was a clear, bloody bite mark from a Lycan.
"Ethan? Ryan!" Mia's face went white as a sheet, her voice cracking. "How did he get here?! He's been bitten!"
Panic tore through her, and she lost all composure. She lunged wildly toward the exit of the underground passage. "Let me go! Lady Miranda, I'm begging you! My husband is just an ordinary man who doesn't know anything. Those monsters will kill him!"
Thunk.
Thick black fungal tendrils burst up out of the ground, locking around Mia like an iron cage and pinning her in place.
"Ordinary?" Miranda turned, looking down at the struggling Mia with a chilling excitement in her voice. "Take a good look at your husband. For a hundred years, I've used countless villagers as test subjects. Almost all of them became mindless Lycans. The rare few who managed to hold onto their form became twisted, deformed monsters."
Miranda's withered finger pointed at the image hanging in the air. "But him? He was injected with the Mold, and not only are his cells not collapsing, they're entering into a perfect symbiosis with it! He hasn't mutated. He still looks like a 'human'!"
Mia grasped the implication, her pupils contracting. Terror set her whole body shaking. "Don't touch him... he isn't one of your experiments!"
"Be quiet. To display such an astonishing degree of fusion... he is a miracle, born to be a vessel for a god." Miranda shot her a cold glance. "You aren't going anywhere. I want to see with my own eyes exactly where this man's limits lie."
With that, Miranda closed her eyes and, through the vast psychic network of the Megamycete, sent an absolute command to the Lords stationed at the four corners of the village.
My children, an outsider of great potential has come to the village. Test him. Wring every drop of potential out of him... I want to see how many blessings this perfect body can endure. Remember. Keep him alive.
Meanwhile, up above, in the heavy fog.
Ethan stayed close behind Ryan, his eyes drifting every so often to his left arm, which had already stopped bleeding.
"Ryan, this feels wrong." Ethan said under the moonlight, brow furrowed. "The wound looks terrible, but I don't feel any pain. If anything, I feel... full of energy. Do the Lycans here have some kind of strong stimulant in their teeth?"
Ryan, walking ahead with the pilfered stick in hand, didn't even turn around. "Maybe the local wildlife likes munching on herbs. Stop overthinking it. Stay sharp. Your wife's trail ended in this direction."
Ryan didn't bother spelling it out. Poor kid. You're not just charged up, if someone chopped your hand off right now you could probably rinse it with hand soap and stick it back on. That perfect fusion with the Mold has officially promoted you past the human threshold.
The two of them crossed a ruined graveyard and followed the winding stone steps upward. Soon, a grand and sinister Gothic castle loomed into view, crouching like a sleeping beast.
Castle Dimitrescu.
Ethan was still taking in the sheer scale of the building when a massive black shadow shifted in the fog just outside the castle's towering iron gates.
Ethan raised his shovel, tense as a drawn bowstring.
As the distance closed, the shadow resolved into a lavishly decorated and enormous carriage, hung all over with an assortment of strange and curious wares.
The most striking thing about it, though, was the man seated in the front compartment.
He was fat. Fat in a way that defied belief, a mountain of flesh that looked ready to crush the carriage beneath him at any moment. He wore a wildly ill-fitting set of aristocratic finery, and he was beaming down at Ryan and Ethan.
"Ah, honored guests, come from afar. The fog is rather thick tonight, isn't it?"
The fat man's voice was hoarse, carrying the peculiar cadence of a traveling merchant. With some effort he inclined his massive body and swept off his hat in an exaggerated bow.
"Who are you?!" Ethan kept the shovel trained on him warily. In a place crawling with monsters, a fat merchant popping up out of nowhere was suspicious no matter how you looked at it.
"You may call me 'The Duke.'" The fat man's smile pushed his jowls together into folds. "I am but a humble merchant, providing what modest conveniences I can to those in need, here in this forgotten land."
The Duke waved a hand, and the wooden panels on the side of the carriage swung open to reveal an array of goods: firearms gleaming with metallic sheen, crates of ammunition, all kinds of medical supplies, even some steaming hot food.
"Weapons, provisions, information... I have it all." The Duke narrowed his eyes, his voice rich with a merchant's coaxing. "Whatever you honored guests require, I can sell it. Provided, of course, that you have sufficient lei."
Ethan faltered. He patted the thin pocket of his pajamas and gave a wry smile. "I... I didn't bring a wallet, and I don't have your currency."
"Sir... I mean, Duke. You'll sell anything?"
Ryan, who had been quiet this whole time, suddenly stepped forward, tossed the stick aside, and sized up the carriage, which looked like something out of Doraemon's pocket, with open interest.
"Certainly, sir." The Duke rubbed his hands together, putting on his best professional smile.
"Excellent."
Ryan unhurriedly reached into the inside pocket of his windbreaker, and his fingers came out pinching a jet-black credit card, its gold insignia embossed on the surface, a globally accepted no-limit black card. He gave it a little flick in front of The Duke.
"You see, I don't usually carry cash when I travel, and there isn't exactly an ATM around here." Ryan looked at The Duke, the corner of his mouth curling up. "You just said as long as there's money, you'll sell anything. Do you take card?"
The Duke's smile, so practiced and all-knowing, froze solid, the flesh of his face locking up.
And it wasn't simply that the phrase "take card" was jarringly modern in this nineteenth-century village tucked away from the world.
It was that the instant Ryan stepped close and met his eye while producing that card, The Duke's finely-tuned instincts had started shrieking the highest-level alarm at him.
This man was smiling. His tone was easy. But the suppressed pressure radiating off him, the kind of presence only someone far, far up the food chain carried, was somehow more terrifying than Miranda in a rage.
If he dared say the words we don't take card, was this man going to swipe the whole castle, along with his carriage, right off the map?
"Ta... take card..."
Cold sweat sprang up on The Duke's forehead. He found himself instinctively shrinking back into the carriage, and that imperturbable fat face of his showed, for the very first time, a look of acute embarrassment.
"Ahem... most esteemed sir..." The Duke swallowed hard, fighting to keep his voice from shaking, the smile on his face more pained than a grimace, "I... I run a very modest operation here. I haven't yet gotten around to setting up a POS terminal. But... but barter, or store credit, those I can absolutely accommodate!"
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