Amidst the relentless downpour, the group cautiously advanced toward a dark, crimson-hued mountain nestled within the forest, their pace deliberately slowed.
“Nothing seems to be moving for now…”
From a distance, the nature of the mountain remained unclear. Gilbert and the others recalled the small Undead Beasts they had encountered in the village, resembling frogs, but the eerie stillness from afar felt unsettling. It cast an ominous shadow over their thoughts.
As they remained vigilant, occasionally dispatching Undead Beasts detected by the Clergy, they noted that the number of medium-sized beasts was significantly lower than anticipated. Soon, their line of sight cleared, revealing a small estate just before the crimson mountain, protected by a barrier erected by the Clergy.
“It seems someone is there,” one of them remarked.
“That estate is precisely where the barrier used to be…” another added.
Perhaps alerted by the sound of multiple carriages and the clattering of hooves, figures emerged from within. An elderly knight of Jiemeld and about five clergy members appeared, looking terribly worn. They gazed at the group with expressions of shock, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Sir Clark…! You’re safe…!”
The voice belonged to a young knight of Jiemeld, who seemed to be addressing the elderly knight among them.
“You all… and you are…!”
Old Knight Clark’s face twisted in disbelief as he spotted Lionel among the approaching group, his expression almost on the verge of tears.
“Sir Lionel…”
He murmured, dropping to his knees. At first glance, it appeared he was bowing in salute, but it also seemed he had lost the strength to stand.
Just as they were about to inquire further, a faint movement caught their attention from the distant crimson mountain, causing everyone to turn in unison.
“What was that…? That mountain just lowered a bit, didn’t it?!”
“Look at the edge; it’s slowly… spreading…?”
It resembled mud water gradually oozing across the ground, as if it had a will of its own.
“Hey, could that be… a Viscous Magic Fungus?”
“Come on, you can’t be serious… If that’s the case, then that color… could it be a Viscous Magic Fungus that has turned into an Undead Beast?!”
The mercenaries, well-versed in magical beasts, began to murmur among themselves.
The Viscous Magic Fungus, as its name suggested, was a mass of amoeba-like fungi imbued with magical power. Though classified as a living organism, its inanimate characteristics distanced it from the term “magical beast.”
“There’s no doubt it’s turned into an Undead Beast… It looks like a mass of miasma…”
The Clergy responded with grim expressions.
The sight of what appeared to be corrupted swamp mud crawling out as if it possessed a mind of its own seemed to be the most plausible explanation, though its size was beyond comprehension. The surface was a sickly red-black, with patches reminiscent of murky water, resembling nothing more than a mass of moving mud and rotting flesh.
“Hey! Look over there! Isn’t that armor…?”
One of the mercenaries pointed toward a direction where part of a knight’s armor was exposed from the mud.
“Could it be that the missing knights were consumed by that…?”
Gilbert muttered, and Old Knight Clark, still seated on the ground, looked up with a pained expression. He seemed to struggle to find words, his reaction implying a grim affirmation.
“If that’s a Viscous Magic Fungus, those knights might still be alive!”
A mercenary exclaimed.
“Alive in that state?”
“Yeah, there are various types of Viscous Magic Fungus, but most of them keep the creatures they consume in a state of suspended animation while feeding on their magical energy over time.”
“Suspended animation, huh? But once they’re consumed, they should be suffocating…”
“Look closely at the upper part. Those bubbles are rising and bursting, right? They create air pockets inside to keep the captured creatures alive.”
Upon closer inspection, the pointed-out area revealed several grotesque, large bubbles, expanding and bursting as if they were breathing.
“The problem is how to rescue them… and even if we want to defeat it, it’s too massive…”
“Normally, Viscous Magic Fungus stays quietly at the bottom of swamps. Unless there’s a massive outbreak where people get consumed, it’s rare to hunt them down.”
“So what do you do in such cases?”
“We douse it in oil and set it ablaze. But if it’s turned into an Undead Beast, fire probably won’t work…”
Hearing this, everyone exhaled in frustration.
“It’s a minuscule mass of fungi… A blunt weapon might be able to crush it somewhat, but how much can a blade actually cut through?”
“Honestly, we don’t have the luxury to build a catapult here right now.”
Lionel frowned at his sword, while the Clergy gripped a vial filled with Holy Water tightly. A heavy silence fell as each pondered their next move. Dolf, seated at the Coachman’s Seat with his arms crossed and eyes closed, finally lifted his head.
“At this point, we have no choice. It’s time to bring out our secret weapon.”
“What do you mean, old man? Do you have a plan?!”
Gilbert exclaimed, his voice filled with anticipation, drawing the attention of everyone present, excluding the old knights.
“Ah, I see. You mean that Battle Axe…”
Gilbert said, glancing up at the blade of the Battle Axe in his hands. The axe head was covered with tanned leather to keep it dry from the rain. He smiled sheepishly as he removed the covering, revealing a blade that glimmered faintly in the rain.
“Well, safety first! If it seems impossible, we’ll retreat! Is everyone on board with that?!”
At Dolf’s command, Lionel nodded with a troubled smile.
Old Knight Clark’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the Battle Axe’s blade, and he gasped, freezing in place. He bit his lip, looking down as if trying to shake off a thought. After a moment, he raised his head, his expression filled with determination.
“There’s a villa belonging to the duke near where that Viscous Magic Fungus is located. It’s where Duke Jiemeld was recuperating.”
“What did you say?!”
Everyone, including Lionel, turned to Old Knight Clark in shock.
“I don’t know if the duke is still alive. However, if possible, I wish to help him. Please, lend me your strength…”
He said, bowing his head in a plea while still kneeling.
“Right now, I can’t promise anything. We’ll have to do what we can.”
Lionel replied with a serious expression, and Gilbert and the others nodded in agreement.
“By the way, there was a Mage’s barrier here until last night, right? What happened to it…?”
“He was… consumed by that ‘Immortal Mud’ last night. However, he is no longer alive… He was at his limit.”
Still kneeling on the ground, Old Knight Clark spoke as if confessing, his words laced with anguish.
“The Immortal Mud created by Undead Beasts. Within it, crystals of gathered magical power form. We used that to maintain the barrier.”
“Could it be that they attempted to use Undead Beasts as a perpetual motion machine to extract magical power?”
Priest Sidney, who had been silently listening, finally spoke up.
“No, that was merely a byproduct… Once this is resolved and we ascertain the duke’s fate, I will explain everything.”
Old Knight Clark fell silent, bowing his head once more. Whether it was fear or another reason, his shoulders trembled.
With the possibility of survivors, there was no time to waste. Gilbert and the others, led by him, began to move.