– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 219, Season of the Rising Moon, Day 68 –

Terry's pen moved over his opened pages like a tourist lost in a big city. Seeking out new locations but always returning back to the ones previously visited. Creating clouds of words to hold his thoughts.

Writing down what he knew.

Circling contradictions.

Drawing connections.

From Khaled, he knew that the two elven factions appeared diametrically opposed in their philosophies. The Sun's philosophy revolved around worshiping nature and life whereas the Moon put their dead and death itself front and center in all their teachings.

The two factions had a long history of conflict with each other, only barely tolerating each other because of the curse's disastrous effects on their civilizations.

The Sun and Moon agreed on who they blamed for the curse. Both agreed that Thuzar the Ungodly Angel was the creator.

However, according to Khaled, the two factions currently dealt with the curse differently. The Moon aimed to eradicate the curse whereas the Sun looked to flee the realm.

I guess it makes sense for the Sun to be more averse to the idea of exterminating the shroomans if they worship life and nature.

No wonder the sun elves are more friendly even though Rafael created a similar stink to me with the moon elves. They're probably hoping to flee into our realm. It might not help the infected, but perhaps the next generation could grow up free of the curse after their flight.

I can see how the sun elves are garnering sympathies. The fact that they're not dressing up in skull masks and other death regalia like the moon elves probably helps.

Terry could sympathize with them, too… but one thing made him wary. Even though the sun elves were not actively hunting shroomans, there was still talk of a 'hunt' in which most of their fighting-age population was active.

Unfortunately, Khaled and the others hadn't discovered the details about what the sun elves were looking for.

"I don't know what to think…" Terry muttered to himself and frowned. He tapped his pen on the notebook. He moved from the locals to the points that stood out about the realm itself.

Above all, there was one point that had surprised everyone in the expedition: The locals knew nothing about dungeons.

I'm sorry for Verecund and the dungeon experts. They've come here and risked exposure to a powerful mana curse, only to find their expertise completely sidelined, because our expectations were completely wrong.

Terry moved on to writing down his own beliefs and expectations before arriving in this cursed realm.

First among them, was the expectation that the Veilbinder had traversed this realm. After all, that was his theory for why two of the Faithless Saints had been active in the folded space that protected the sealed gate to this realm.

Terry drew a large question mark next to his belief. According to the locals, they hadn't heard of either Saint Dalia nor of the Veilbinder himself.

No one in the expedition had encountered any of House Dalia's dungeon marks, either.

Terry wrote down that the Ungodly Angel had been in this realm and underlined it as a fact. He couldn't reconcile the locals' story with his realm's stories about Thuzar and her character, which invited a circle from his pen.

The longer Terry thought about it, the more his mind circled back to the apparent contradiction in curses. The Aspiring Soul against the fungus-infestation.

Focusing on what he knew about the two curses, Terry recalled the final moments of acting as a dungeon defender against the fungus-infested army.

'Tree stump.'

'Channeling anchor.'

Terry circled the last words twice. None of what he had heard or learned explained the channeling anchor.

Or what seemed like a channeling anchor anyway…

Terry added a small question mark. He had not sensed any channeling anchors among any folk he had met.

Not among the moon elves.

Not among the shroomans.

Not on Bugsby.

According to Khaled, the same was true for the rest of the expedition. There was no evidence of any channelers or cultist activity in this realm. The locals' 'worship' appeared to be of a spiritual nature and did not involve any soul anchors or opening their minds.

Terry sighed and added a question mark next to his beliefs about Thuzar's character. He was deep in his thoughts when his mana perception jolted him awake.

"Uhh…" Terry tilted his head. "What are they doing?"

[Praising the earth,] signed Bugsby. [And the sky. Celebrating life. Honoring the past. Giving gratitude to this realm and feeling connected to it. They do that sometimes, especially when some of them lost their lives recently.]

Terry briefly had to blink away his continued surprise at how quickly the beetlefolk had picked up even understanding the spoken version of the common tongue, even if Bugsby couldn't speak it out loud himself yet.

Then Terry's mind caught up with the last words and he realized that his late arrival in defense of Shroomville might have allowed more than just injuries to happen. Even if not, Terry became distinctly aware that the moon elves were most likely hunting shroomans in the entire realm.

A hunt was the wrong term from what Terry had seen. The shroomans had literally no fighting abilities, defensive or otherwise.

The moon elves' hunt was nothing but a one-sided slaughter.

Terry's expressions darkened with guilt for letting the culprits escape with their lives. Knowing that some shroomans must have lost their lives had him wonder at the shroomans' treatment of himself.

None had shown any resentment for his late arrival or for letting the moon elves go.

None of them appeared to bear him any grudge whatsoever.

Terry had spent enough time in battles to know that there was always someone harboring a grudge over something, even accusing their benefactors of failing to do more.

The Preacher and his faction in Tiv that blamed Arcana while the Tiv Empire coddled up to Arcana's barrier to help protect itself, completely ignoring why Arcana had isolated itself to begin with.

Their raids to liberate settlements from Lich Kingdom occupation had surfaced not just locals who had preferred the occupation, but also people who had blamed them for arriving late.

There were always some.

There was always someone around to feel entitled.

Not here, it seems…

Terry dazedly followed what was going on.

Well, that's new…

While Terry was straining his mana perception to follow along with this new kind of rhythmic dance of Shroomville's inhabitants, a small excited figure darted forth from next to him and Bugsby.

Shroomling was joining the festivities.

At first, Terry was simply curious to observe their coordinated wiggles that grew increasingly in intensity. When their huffing and puffing and wiggling and squatting somehow led first to a constant hum and then to an outright sequence of low sounds that sounded like drums, he was mesmerized.

When the shroomans suddenly started teleporting around while leaving thick clouds behind, Terry involuntarily jumped up in shock. The visual effect reminded him of the ash wolves' dust teleportation, but Terry knew this wasn't dust.

These were spores.

When Terry felt the ambient mana change, he stopped breathing.

When he sensed more than the ambient mana change, a brief moment of panic welled up in him. Sensing the domesticated insects change was one thing, but to feel a slight change in his own naturalized mana bubble was extremely unsettling.

Worries rushed through Terry's mind. Were these spores responsible for the curse?

Was their feeling of connectedness with the realm the very thing that was cursing it?

Was the strange change in his naturalized mana a sign of being infected?

No…

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Terry narrowed his eyes while his inner Academy student took over. As scary as the combination of everything was, it was also fascinating. As foreign as the shroomans' magic seemed, it did not feel quite the same as…

That's it!

Terry's eyes darted to the domesticated insects, to the shroomans, and back.

Back and forth while gauging the feel of the change in mana.

Eventually, Terry stepped into the shadow plane where a whole new mesmerizing sight was greeting him.

Wiggling shadows in the shape of shroomans were appearing and disappearing.

The entire shadow plane appeared to be pulsing.

Even stranger than what the ambient mana was doing was the change around the insects tending to the large mushrooms.

"They're sharing a mana signature…" Terry muttered in astonishment.

No, not quite.

By mana!

Terry's mouth stood agape. "The insects are emitting and absorbing other-naturalized mana."

Still not quite but it's like the shroomans' mana signature is merged into what the insects are doing…

His first thought was that this wasn't possible.

His second thought was that the only means of achieving the use of another's mana without changing the naturalization was a channeling anchor… but that wasn't the case here.

For a while, Terry was wondering if this was the explanation for failing to sense a channeling anchor. Were there other means?

But then why was there a channeling anchor in the folded space? What he was seeing here was different from what he had seen then.

Terry's mind repeatedly pointed out that he had never heard of anything like this. Weighing the contradiction against his lack of alternative explanations.

Until Terry became distinctly aware of where he was standing and a short gasp escaped from his lips. "Shadows…"

He had indeed heard of something like this before, but he had never known that it was this.

Back when the Veilbinder had returned from his realm travels after the Second Great Crisis, Terry's native realm had been threatened by a powerful ruler from their shadow plane.

A ruler that was eventually defeated by the Veilbinder and his companions before the Veilbinder was abducted to the realm of snake-humanoids called lamias where he was forced to enter a death game, which the organizers ended up sorely regretting.

As powerful as the shadow ruler was, it had ended as nothing more than a minor story in the greatest legend of their realm, with many of the details being glossed over.

However, one point Terry remembered. The greatest threat of the ruler of shadows wasn't his power, but his uncontested rule over the shadow plane. The creature could appear anywhere and no one could prevent it. No mage of the time had the power to lock down the shadows against it.

No mage of the time had the power to maintain spellwork or rituals in the shadow plane that could stand against the ruler's authority and warn them of the creature's arrival in advance either.

And yet, somehow, the Veilbinder had figured out a way to deal with it.

Terry was already leafing frantically through his copy of the Path of a Mage to find the relevant passage.

'The Veilbinder had brought along a powder from his travels. A miraculous powder that allowed sensing directly into the shadows with a connected proxy as opposed to rituals or spellwork. A limited supply was handed to the mages and mixed into the food of their shadow familiars. The rest was used as a potent fertilizer for the trees they would plant in the shadows.

'The next time the hostile ruler of the shadow plane attempted to ambush the allied forces at the Keep was the last mistake it ever made.'

That was all.

But it was enough.

Terry would have to reflect if he was falling for his own wishful thinking again. He had to have a serious interpreter-assisted chat with Shroomling and the shroomans to confirm the way the spores – or the powder – worked.

But for now, he returned to his notebook. He struck the question mark he had drawn earlier and underlined his noted assumption.

'The Veilbinder was here.'

Terry's heart already raced while his thoughts still tried to poke holes into the idea.

The Path of Mage used the term 'powder'. Not spores or whatever they're producing here. Then again, if they never clarified where the Veilbinder had brought the stuff from…?

I don't know for sure if this is really what allowed the mages of old to directly sense into the shadow realm, but…?

Terry didn't correct his notes despite his thoughts. "I'll have to talk to the shroomans." His gaze moved to Bugsby, whom he would need as a translator, only to find the beetlefolk staring starry-eyed at the book and notebook in front of Terry.

Terry briefly had to overcome the oddness of seeing such a gaze on the multi-faceted eyes he usually associated with insects instead of folks. [Are you interested in books?] He signed while talking out loud to help his newfolk friend learn the spoken words.

Bugsby jolted from his daze and smiled widely. [Written language? Yes, please!]

Terry had to grin at the amount of childlike excitement that carried in the intent of his friend's finger runes. He made a mental note to read the Path of a Mage together with Bugsby. He wanted to make sure that he hadn't overlooked any details that could help him resolve his current quest for truth. If that could also entertain Bugsby and help teach him the written words of Terry's native realm, then great.

When Terry looked from his cherished tome about the Veilbinder to his own notebook, he hesitated. He couldn't help but remember the betrayals in his past. Couldn't avoid thinking about the murky situation in which he didn't know whom to trust.

The Path of a Mage wasn't a secret, but Terry's own thoughts on what was going on in the realm might be more sensitive. His highlighted questions and beliefs would be a guideline for people like the Preacher, the Warlord, or the monster to deceive him.

Terry glanced at the beetlefolk. He liked Bugsby, and almost felt guilty for suspecting him, but he couldn't help it. When his thoughts had reached this point, they inevitably spiraled further.

Recalling that the channeling anchor controlling the cursed army in the folded space had been placed on a tree stump.

Remembering that the beetlefolk had mentioned the procreation of his species required magic trees.

Terry took a deep breath. He didn't know what to think, but one aspect in the person he wanted to become was to give people a chance.

Once, at least.

Within reason.

Not like his companion-deprived legend-seeking gullibility of his early days in Whetstone City's Proving Grounds.

Terry returned his own notebook to his dimensional storage. [I'm happy to read with you later.] He pointed at the Path of a Mage. [But could you act as my translator for Shroomling and the other shroomans first? I need to ask them something.]

***

Terry allowed some of the soft spore dust in his hand slip through his fingers while concentrating on his mana perception and sensing for any changes at the touch of his mana.

His eyes followed the shroomans that ran around to gather the spores and tend to their herd of domesticated insects.

[Shroomling says they always celebrated the realm in this manner. It makes the realm happy. Makes its life healthy. Healthy life makes them happy.]

Terry subconsciously bit his lips. Even with the help of Bugsby as a translator, it was difficult to discuss such a complex topic with the shroomans.

A part might be that Bugsby's vocabulary, even though it was increasing at an impressive speed, still remained rather limited in absolute terms. It had only been a few days since the beetlefolk had started learning, after all.

Terry suspected the bigger part was simply how much the shroomans' means of perceiving the world differed from his own.

The realm is 'happy'? The 'realm'?

Healthy life? What 'life'?

Terry decided to return to the more tangible questions. [So this…] He subconsciously lifted the hand with the spore dust, even though he knew that Shroomling didn't really see much through her eyes. [This powder allows you to sense through the insects in the shadow plane?]

[Not just the shadow plane,] corrected Bugsby after confirming with Shroomling. [Even though the shadows are special.]

Terry raised an eyebrow.

Bugsby traded a few chirps for huffs from Shroomling and then the little shrooman jumped onto her little legs and began wiggling.

Terry stared at the ground from which many small earth-aspected worms crawled up. A few of the shroomans ran over to pat and check the worms. Checking them in the same manner like they checked the shadow-aspected insects.

[Others, too,] signed Bugsby. [Many required to tend to the realm. Keep life healthy. Keep realm happy.]

I guess I haven't seen all the animals they domesticate. I haven't been here for long…

Terry couldn't help but frown at the repeated invocations of 'healthy'. He knew the realm was cursed. Now he learned that the shroomans were doing… something.

Something that involved the entire ecosphere for all he knew.

Terry pushed the question of the curse to the side for now. He wanted to establish facts and that question appeared too far out of his reach to consider yet.

So the effect is not just limited to the shadow-aspect.

Terry glanced at Bugsby and Shroomling. He wanted to see their expressions before asking his next question. [Does the powder help control the insects?]

[Yes and no.] Bugsby tilted his head after confirming with Shroomling.

Terry's stomach sank at the first word, and he held his breath for them to clarify.

[Helps communicate,] continued Bugsby. [Talk with mana.] He shrugged and pointed at himself to indicate that the next runes would be his own words instead of Shroomling's. [I know what she means. It's just mana, but you can make it be felt to signal trained commands. Is not as great as these communication runes you taught me.] A curious excitement welled in his multifaceted eyes. [Do you think these could be combined?]

For a moment, Terry forgot his troubled inquiries to let his inner Academy student appreciate finding a kindred spirit. [Maybe.]

Finger runes are a trade-off, though. They can transmit more complex thoughts, but they can be sensed and understood by everyone with mana sense, which is not always desirable.

"So how do I test this?" Terry mumbled to himself.

[They can teach you how to use the powder,] signed Bugsby while Shroomling wiggled proudly.

I could summon a creature with the help of a dungeon core, but from what they've said so far, the powder does nothing to help with the taming itself. It only helps communicating, but if the beast does not listen to me to begin with, then it won't do shit.

Slimes aren't hostile, so that's a start, but…

Terry frowned. In order to test his hypothesis, he would have to tame a summoned slime, but then what would he do with it?

This skill would be so much better if I could also unsummon creatures like the soul spiritualists…

Terry wondered what he should do. He couldn't unsummon creatures, so if he tamed a slime, he had to deal with it after his experiment.

It was one thing to kill the summoned creatures that were attacking him on sight, but the idea of killing a tamed creature simply felt wrong. Same for abandoning it.

Terry recalled the fire-slime Goo that was following Miguel around. The slime that Samuel had researched after Terry had summoned it from a monster core.

But I can't run around with a weak slime all the time.

Terry was well aware that he had a tendency to get himself into trouble. In many of his most recent troubles, he had barely managed to keep himself alive. He wasn't ready to bring along another creature and commit to permanently protect it.

Unless I had a way to bring it along without it being exposed?

Terry's gaze subconsciously moved to the shroomans tending to the shadow-aspected insectoids. His fingers found the magic brooch a dungeon had once gifted him as a reward.

The magic brooch that summoned shadow fabric to shape his protective cloak.

I wonder…

Terry's consciousness raced through his dimensional storage. He had learned from Samuel how to distinguish monster cores. He knew that most slime cores followed the aspects of the core system, but there were exceptions…

***

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