In the sound of chirping birds, Saryan slowly opened his eyes.
The noise came from his younger sister’s blue parrot. However, Saryan didn’t feel annoyed about being woken up — after all, the sun was already high in the sky.
His treehouse had been half-destroyed during the chaos by a rampaging great tree, and having a bed to sleep on at all was already thanks to his sister’s generosity.
Only…
When he pushed open the door, the sound of his sister’s crying suddenly echoed from inside the small house:
“Little Chirp! It’s all my fault! I handed you over to that useless brother, and now look at the state you’re in…”
Elawen clutched the Scout puji tightly in her arms, tears streaming down her face. She sobbed while furtively glancing toward him between breaths.
Saryan himself couldn’t figure it out — the puji had been perfectly fine before they returned to his sister’s house, but the moment they stepped inside, it suddenly turned dumb and sluggish.
His sister was adamant it was because its mushroom cap was tilted crookedly, and at the moment, the only one in the room who seemed delighted by the situation was the blue parrot Feifei, proudly chirping atop Elawen’s head.
Still, to be fair, he really did bear some responsibility for this.
“All right, all right,” Saryan sighed helplessly. “After I finish my errands today, I’ll take Little Chirp to see a few Druid friends. They might know how to fix this.”
“That’s more like it…” Elawen finally returned to normal.
After Saryan left, Elawen also went out to catch fish for Big Earth Bear Beanling and Shadow Swamp Python Bubble, leaving only Feifei and the vacant-eyed puji in the house.
Feifei first perched by the window, confirming that Elawen had indeed gone far away.
Then, circling once in the air with a sharp cry, the parrot dove straight down — unleashing its deadliest move, Dragon-Claw Strike of Death!
Smack—!
Feifei was promptly swatted flat to the ground by a tentacle and began reflecting on the meaning of its bird life.
…
Inside the council hall of the Elven Palace — the same long table that had once received the human delegation — nearly all of the elves’ key figures were gathered.
Even a retired elder, now in the twilight of his years and stripped of official duties, had been specially called back. Only the ranger commander stationed at the Strawman Abyss was absent.
Among all present, the most eye-catching were the two representatives of the Rangers.
The deputy officer was wrapped up like half a rice dumpling. After being struck down by Ekos, he hadn’t fought further; thanks to the Druids and mages in the team, his life had been saved in time.
The other center of attention was Ekos himself. White mycelium threads wove across his skin and flesh, and most strikingly, a round and chubby puji sat perched atop his head — while he himself maintained an air of calm composure.
In truth, his injuries were far worse than the deputy’s. Yet now he moved as if nothing were wrong, making him realize that these strange fungal filaments were likely the reason.
“Ekos,” said the elderly elf with greying temples — the only one senior enough to speak frankly in this hall. “Do you really need to attend a council meeting with that creature sitting on your head?”
Everyone else had been politely pretending not to notice since they entered.
“This little guy saved my life. It insists on staying up there — I can’t help it!”
As he spoke, he reached up to remove the puji, but it responded by curling its tentacles around his head as if to say, you’ll have to tear me off first.
Only when he gave up did it resume its seated position, tiny legs gripping his hair.
Seeing this, the others had no choice but to stay silent. They couldn’t exactly demand Ekos rip off his life-saving mushroom, could they?
Still, the old elf looked uneasy. “Ekos… are you sure that condition of yours isn’t dangerous?”
This time, before Ekos could answer, Galadriel spoke up on his behalf.
“There’s no need to worry. According to the information I’ve received, cases of mycelial symbiosis have already been observed in human cities. It’s a new form of coexistence developed by the pujis — it greatly enhances the host’s recovery ability, at the cost of some cosmetic changes and minor mana drain.”
She intentionally omitted the part about Puji Masters being able to control pujis — Ekos had no need for that kind of combat support, so mentioning it served no purpose.
“Among humans, perhaps. But why has it appeared in the Divine Wood Dungeon as well?”
“Most likely,” Galadriel explained, “it drifted here through spatial rifts when the Amethyst Dungeon underwent its upheaval.”
She hoped the others wouldn’t treat Ekos with suspicion over the mycelial symbiosis. Ekos himself, however, remained wary.
“To be safe, I’ll focus on border patrol duties with the Forest Guard. I won’t involve myself too much in internal city matters.”
The discussion then turned to other topics: the search for the missing Iros and the lost artifact, the rebuilding of Isildorin, and designing the new city to withstand another rampage of the Great Trees.
When the subject shifted to foreign policy, most elves agreed that their current situation was too unstable to meddle in continental conflicts.
Only Saryan held a different view. The scenes he had witnessed in the Abyss — worlds devoured by mist — had left a deep impression on him.
He believed the elves should reach out to the wider world, though not as radically as his teacher once had.
But as one of the younger generation, he lacked the authority to sway the discussion. His proposal was soon drowned out by others’ voices.
Even so, the elves weren’t about to close their gates entirely. They still considered the situation on the continent.
The internal war of the elves had been too large. Even if they sealed their borders, the news would inevitably leak.
The demons, freed from constraint, would surely intensify their pressure on humanity.
Thus, the council ultimately resolved to relax material aid to humans — providing food and potions — and extend the same support to the dwarves.
With dwarves pressing demons at the imperial borders, humans should be able to endure.
As for the human Hero — the demons were far more anxious about that than the elves were. In such times, it was best to let humans and demons wrestle it out themselves.
The elves began rebuilding their homeland. The sight of pujis everywhere soon became normal — they were, after all, scavenger creatures. A post-disaster population surge was only natural.
No one saw them as a threat; even the former captain of the royal guard, Ekos, walked around with one perched on his head.
Occasionally, some elves found Mycelium Carpets decomposing elven corpses, yet they took it calmly.
To them, whether one was returned to nature through trees or through fungi made little difference.
Still, sorrow hung faintly over the whole race. Each time they tore down a ruined treehouse, familiar belongings evoked memories of those lost or missing in the chaos.
By the ruins of the potion shop, a female mage quietly wiped away tears while clearing the debris.
She could never forgive herself — on the day the Great Trees went berserk, how could she have forgotten to save little Ruil, the one least able to protect herself?
Now, officially, Ruil was “missing.” But everyone knew the truth — her remains were either too damaged to identify, or she’d been dragged off by monsters.
“Poor little thing… it’s all my fault…”
The mage didn’t know that deep in the warm depths of the Dungeon, the very child she mourned — little Ruil — was clutching a giant mushroom, trembling as she faced a terrifying lizardman whose claws were ten centimeters long…