Colby descended deeper into the cave, holding out the torch of [Flaming Saganaki] in front of him. He didn't remember the cave being so dark, desolate, and damp. Though it might have something to do with the fact that when he came down here with his mother all those years ago, she actually had a proper Fire spell that lit up the way—Or was it a Light spell?

  Either way, the [Flaming Saganaki] that he was so proud of couldn’t hold a candle to the spell his mother had cast. It could barely hold a candle to a regular candle. In his defense, it was the first time he had ever done something like this.

  Colby Tyro, the guy who could only cast cheese, had managed to cast Fire—just ignore the fact that it was still technically cheese.

  Now, he just had to improve it. He couldn’t wait to show off his awesomeness to Elaien and Porter. Looks like another project added to his to-do list… again.

  Yeah, he really needed to start tackling them. If not, they were just going to keep piling up and up and up, only to topple down and crush him.

  Colby came to a fork in the road. Which path did his mother take to reach the Myconet? It was either left, down the barely illuminated darkness, or the right, down the even more barely illuminated darkness.

  Decisions, decisions.

  These kinds of choices were always the hardest for him. Therefore, he employed the tried and true tactic of flipping a coin.

  Unfortunately, all of his gold had been spent on see-salt. Fortunately, the cave was filled with a good enough substitute: tons of rocks. Colby picked up the most coin-like one he could find. Without any heads or tails, it would be impossible to tell which side the rock-coin landed on.

  Once again, his latest spell was here to save the day!

  Colby brought the rock-coin close to the [Flaming Saganaki] torch, letting the flames lick one side. After holding it for a minute, until the heat from the meagre fire was too much for his delicate fingers, he pulled back.

  Colby inspected the rock-coin. A tiny black speck, barely even visible, marked the surface. That would be the scorched side—if you could even call it that.

  Now came a monumental decision. Which side determined which path?

  After half a second of deliberation, he decided on the clean side for the left and the scorched side for the right.

  Clean side for left. Scorched side for right.

  Satisfied, Colby placed the rock-coin along the bend of his index finger and flicked it. His thumb throbbed. Who knew flicking a rock would be so painful? Colby shook his hand, hoping to alleviate some of the pain.

  That was the least of his worries.

  Turns out the ceiling was much lower than he had anticipated, either that or he was much stronger than he realized. The rock-coin pinged against the roof of the cave, ricocheting back.

  Colby ducked and shielded his head with his hands. He raised the one carrying the torch of [Flaming Saganki] higher, because he didn’t want to become a hot head.

  The rock-coin slammed back onto the ground and rolled to a stop. He bent down, inspecting the results.

  The rock-coin had spoken; it was the scorched side.

  Colby abandoned any doubt in his mind and headed down the right path. This method had never let him down before, except for all of the times when it did—which was about half the time. Normally, worry would’ve plagued his mind, but he had literally just abandoned any doubt, so how could he be worried?

  Instead, he chose to focus on two things: what else could he remember about the Myconet, and what was that strange stalkerish feeling that made the hair on the back of his neck stand?

  Colby whipped around, thrusting the [Flaming Saganaki] torch in front of him. There was nothing there but darkness, rocks, shriveled up corpses of monsters unknown to him, and those dark green tendrils which coiled around their bodies. They stretched across the floor and ceiling, snaking down the path he had chosen.

  So what was stalking him? Or was he just paranoid?

  The last time he had this feeling, there really had been a monster stalking him. And now that monster was his friend—it was Thornelius.

  Thornelius hid in the bushes to avoid detection, but there weren’t any bushes here for any monster to hide in. There wasn’t even a big enough rock to hide behind. There was just nothing here but whatever he had listed earlier.

  Maybe it really was paranoia.

  But just to be sure.

  Colby slowly shuffled towards the closest corpse, watching for any signs of movement. The only thing moving was the shadows dancing upon the backdrop of the cave, as if mocking the deceased.

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  The corpse, just like all the others, looked as if it had all the life sucked out of it. They were nothing more than decaying skin and brittle bones. But again, just to be really sure.

  Colby kicked one of the bony legs of the four-legged monster in front of him. Nothing. He kicked it again, just to be sure. Again, nothing.

  Maybe he really was being paranoid.

  Instead of feeding into the paranoia, Colby chose to rifle through the dusty corner of his brain for facts about the Myconet.

  The Myconet was a type of fungal monster, hence the myco part of its name. Normally, when someone mentioned ‘fungal’, the first thing that came to mind was ‘mushroom’. Surprisingly—or maybe not—fungi covered far more than mushrooms; there were other types like yeast and mold. It certainly blew his mind when he learned that fact.

  The Myconet was actually a type of mold, though there was nothing micro about it. The last time he was in here, the creature occupied the deepest chamber. Its body was anchored at the center of a sprawling network of dark green growth, tendrils stretching across every surface—thus the ‘net’ part of its name.

  That most likely explained the dark green lines streaking across the entrance of the cave, and pretty much everywhere along the passageway he was walking down. Not like that would invalidate his rock toss. Both paths had the same growth crawling along the wall, floor, and ceiling.

  It didn’t explain the shrivelled up bodies of monsters with mold growing all over them.

  Did the Myconet do that? Or was it something else, and the mold simply took advantage of the situation to grab a free meal?

  He didn't remember the mold having a taste for flesh. He also didn’t remember the cave being so twisty and turny.

  There was another fork in the road. Good thing he still had that rock-coin from earlier. Another flip and his path had been decided. Then, there was another fork. And another. And then even more.

  It came to the point where he simply gave up with the rock method, instead defaulting to the right side—because it was the right way. If not, it would be called the wrong side.

  Eventually, after the many twists and turns of the barely illuminated cave and stalkerish feeling that never went away, the passage opened up into the large cavern that he vaguely remembered.

  Honestly, it looked pretty much like every other cavern he had ventured into, which wasn’t a lot since he was a cheesemaker, not a cave diver, much less a dungeon diver. It all just looked like rock and stone to him.

  Now, where was that Myconet?

  It wasn't exactly hard to locate. The innumerable mold tendrils that carpeted the floor acted as a trail. If he could walk on ceilings, he would’ve used that trail of mold instead. The more he walked, the thicker the trails became, until they all converged into one.

  He was at the source of the mold, the Myconet.

  It was exactly as he remembered—well, almost exactly. A huge ball of dark green mold loomed before him. It was propped up by multiple thick mold tendrils tethered to the ground and suspended by even more stretching down from the ceiling.

  It definitely wasn’t this big the last time he was here.

  He should know, because he wasn’t that big back then either. Sure, he had a decent growth spurt, but the Myconet had a growth spurt to end all growth spurts. From the size of his head to roughly the size of his entire body—and that didn’t even take into account all of the mold he had walked past.

  Okay, enough being jealous about a fungus’s growth, it was time to get his hands on some rennet and get out of here before that stalkerish feeling turned out to be true.

  Colby whipped around again, waving the [Flaming Saganaki] torch in front of him. He still couldn’t see anything that might possibly be out to get him. The weak light from his torch didn’t do him any favors either.

  Again, rather than give in to the paranoia, he focused on the task at hand.

  How did his mother harvest the rennet?

  She simply scraped off the weird slimy layer that coated the mass, cleaned it up a bit, and voila, some emergency rennet from when a Supply Runner suffered the risks associated with the job.

  Colby moved closer to the Myconet, stepping on the carpet of mossy tendrils underfoot. He raised his [Flaming Saganaki] torch, holding the weak flame right in front of the massive organic sphere. There was a sticky, faintly shimmering film coating the mass. That should be what his mother had collected.

  This was going to be a two-handed operation.

  Colby rested the [Flaming Saganaki] torch against a nearby rock that had been overtaken by moss.

  Opening his Inventory, he retrieved an empty glass bottle that used to hold milk, now it was going to hold Myconet goo. Using his hands—because he didn’t bring any tools with him—he scraped the liquid membrane into the bottle. It was sticky and clung stubbornly to his fingers, stretching into thin strands before finally dripping inside.

  He made sure not to grab any of the mold itself, because it meant more steps to the filtration process. A problem he would solve outside of the cave.

  Colby circled around the large sphere of mold, scooping as much of the liquid membrane that he could reach, even going on his tippy toes.

  After collecting more than enough of the raw rennet—not because he couldn’t reach the rest—he stored the bottles in his Inventory.

  Now, he just had to grab the [Flaming Saganaki] torch, pray that the growing sense of something watching him was nothing more than paranoia, and skedaddle out of here.

  Just as he was about to grab the piece of halloumi, Colby paused. A small tendril of mold had started to snake its way up the flaming cylinder of cheese.

  How rude!

  That was his cheese, not the Myconet's.

  He gripped the torch and yanked. Surprisingly, the mold, despite only having an inch of its tendrils around the base, held it with a firm grip. Colby pulled even harder. When it finally came loose, he stumbled backwards, barely catching himself before falling on his behind.

  Step one, grab the torch, was completed.

  Step two was a failure of massive proportions.

  It wasn’t paranoia. Gathered around the entrance of the chamber were the shriveled-up bodies of what were supposed to be monster corpses.

  They were being puppeteered by the Myconet, weren’t they? Great, now he had to deal with zombie mold.

  Since when could the Myconet do that?

  Normally, he’d be panicking, racking his mind in search of a solution to his predicament, but it was literally right in his face. That huge sphere of mold was equivalent to the monster’s heart—brains? Maybe a bit of both.

  Semantics aside, he had unfettered access to its weak point.

  And you know what else he had?

  Fire!