Kinky Temptation

”Looks like we’ve found the boss room,” Lyssandra murmured, stepping cautiously into the vast space. Her boots echoed hollowly. ”But as expected…” Her voice trailed off when sweeping the desolate hall.

There was nothing.

No lurking monster, no treasure, no discernible traps or mechanisms. Just the immense, empty chamber and the solitary pedestal, devoid of its purpose like her own dungeon core room before.

”…of course, nothing!” Lyssandra finished with a sigh, a note of disappointment on her face. ”It has been too long. Centuries probably.”

Miriel stepped in behind and hugged her arms, the chill of vast space seeping into her bones. ”Is that where the dungeon core was?” she whispered, pointing at the pedestal.

”Seems so,” Lyssandra replied, approaching the pedestal. She ran a finger through the dust, revealing smooth, dark stone beneath. ”Empty.”

Circling the pedestal, her eyes scanning surrounding area. Her gaze stopped behind it, focusing on a shadowed alcove formed by two giant columns. ”Wait…”

Lyssandra moved quickly, stepping into the alcove. There, lying on its side against the base of one column, was a skeleton. Time had reduced the clothing and possessions to mere dust and tattered fragments. Only yellowed bones remained, scattered and heavily covered by debris.

”Hmm,” Lyssandra said, crouching down beside the remains. ”Looks like our mystery ended here.”

Miriel joined her, peering at the skeleton with a mixture of pity and curiosity. ”This must be Rael,” she whispered. ”The author of the journals we found. He must have come here… and never left.”

Beneath the skeletal ribcage, partly obscured by fragments of decayed leather, lay a single sheet of leather piece. It was fragile, crumbling at the edges, ink faded almost beyond recognition.

With infinite care, Lyssandra reached for the page, she pinched a corner between her fingers, lifting it with gentleness one would use handling a butterfly wing. The parchment crackled ominously.

”Hold your breath,” Lyssandra murmured. ”Don’t sneeze.” She carefully blew a fine layer of dust away, revealing fragmented, spidery handwriting before putting it under dim light, trying to decipher the fading words.

”It’s… his final entry.”

Miriel leaned close, her breath held and Lyssandra began to read aloud.

-

”My final destination. Regrets cling to me like spider silk. I should never have returned to this accursed place. It whispers… even now.

The dungeon boss… a horror. A mass of rotting flesh, countless eyes blinking from festering sockets. Too many limbs, ending in jagged claws. Its maw was a pit filled with teeth, dripping venom.

I fought. I was winning. My skills honed, my purpose clear. I could have ended this nightmare.

Then it happened. The abomination ripped a pulsing clump of glowing green fungus from its own torso and swallowed it. The change was instantaneous: Monstrous rage ignited in its dead eyes. Strength surged through its rotten form.

I was lost. My blows turned aside as if I struck steel. My defenses crumbled. I was about to be the last sacrifice on its altar.

As its claw descended to rip the life from me… the impossible. A distortion filled the air, like heat haze. The oppressive weight of mana vanished, replaced by a chilling emptiness.

I think the dungeon itself screamed.

Vortex opened above us. Violent vacuum ripped through the entire chamber. The monster was caught, shrieking when it was pulled upwards, clawing futilely. Its shape was torn apart by unseen forces, sucked upwards into nothingness. Into the void above.

I was saved… only to die. My injuries… mortal. This cursed dungeon was empty.

The cause? I know now. The green glow, the fungus, it was everywhere. Finally i know what infested my companions, their minds and bodies.

Drove Izaak mad with lust, Addie mad with paranoia… Rita… to despair. It amplified the darkness in us all.

And me?

It whispered poison. Made me blind to their suffering.

This journal is my warning.

Stay away...

This tomb holds only death and echoes of regret. Let my folly be a lesson.

STAY AWAY!!!”

-

The writing trailed off at bottom, final shaky strokes and smeared, perhaps by the dying man’s tears and blood.

Lyssandra gently placed the page back down beside the skeleton. Silence descended, heavy and oppressive.

”The green fungus,” Lyssandra murmured, looking around the vast chamber with new knowledge, noting the faint, sickly glow clinging to crevices and pillars. ”That was the source.”

Miriel shivered, hugging herself. ”It corrupted their minds, turned them against each other. Just like…” she swallowed hard, remembering Lyssandra’s uncharacteristic rage. ”Like us.”

Lyssandra nodded grimly. ”It amplified the worst in them. Rael’s ignorant, Izaak’s lust, Addie’s paranoia… Rita’s despair.”

She stood up, dusting her hands off. ”But it’s gone now. The boss. The core. Ripped out of here by something. Something powerful enough to create a spatial tear.”

Her eyes narrowed in thought. ”That vortex wasn’t natural. Could it have been intentional?”

The empty hall offered no answers though.

Lyssandra paced the chamber, the echo of her boots loud in the silence. She paused by the pedestal, running a hand over its dusty surface once more, brow furrowed in deep thought.

”Not enough clues,” she muttered, frustration clear in her voice. ”The boss vanishes through a spatial tear, a dungeon collapses. It’s like pieces of a puzzle scattered in the dark. What caused the distortion? Was it external? Internal? Was the dungeon itself somehow unstable?” Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the stone.

’That was somehow just like the time I reached the boss room of Nazas dungeon,’ Luna’s voice echoed in her mind, filled with realization. ’Same situation, no monster inside the boss room, but the unnatural phenomena were there, kinda like what happened inside the journal. Could this somehow be what will eventually happen to a dungeon? And it will leave the dungeon dead afterward?’

The thought sent chill down Lyssandra’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold air. Could her home meet such an end? What was the catalyst?

”Argh!” she groaned, scrubbing a hand through her blonde hair, dislodging some of the dust. ”I can’t make any sense from this!”

Miriel, who had been watching Lyssandra pace, hesitantly stepped forward. Her hand, small and still slightly cold, tentatively touched Lyssandra’s. ”What are you trying to understand?” she asked softly, concern etched on her face. ”Maybe I can help?”

Lyssandra stopped her striding. Her frustration dispersed slightly. ”Too many things I need to know, the nature of dungeons. How they work. Why they rise and fall. Why some die. But the knowledge I need is so sparse. It’s like grasping at smoke.”

Miriel squeezed her arm gently. ”How about seeking knowledge where it’s gathered?” she suggested, her voice brightening with an idea. ”You said you were headed to Agos, the human capital. That’s where the Royal Academy is! And the Grand Archives of the Institute of Virtue! They hold centuries of knowledge about magic, history, and dungeon”

Her eyes sparkled with hope. ”My church has libraries too, extensive ones! With access to such resources, you might find the answers you seek.”

Lyssandra stared at her for a moment before slowly nodded. Genuine smile touched her lips. ”You’re right. That makes sense. Thank you, little mouse.” The gratitude was sincere. ”Agos it is.”

She turned away, gaze sweeping the chamber once more, finally landing on the omnipresent glow. The green fungus clung to the walls, the pillars, the floor in clusters. It seemed utterly mundane, almost like common mushrooms flourishing in a damp, abandoned space.

Lyssandra walked over to one cluster growing near the base of a pillar and crouched down. She gently plucked a small, glowing mushroom. It felt cool and slightly slimy to the touch, pulsing with that sickly inner light.

”Just like a button mushroom,” she murmured, holding it up for inspection. ”Small, harmless looking… found in some random dark and damp places. Who would have suspected?”

She gave a humorless chuckle. ”We walked right past it, dismissing it as just fungus. When it was the root of poison that destroyed Rael’s team. And almost got us.”

Lyssandra held the small, pulsating fungus close to her face, scrutinizing it with renewed intensity. Something niggled at the back of her mind. She focused, triggering [Scan] skill, information flooded her vision:

[Heartspore]

A squat fungus resembling a pale button mushroom. Smooth cap veined with soft green glow, pulsing faintly in the dark. Drifting spores (or flesh when injected/consumed) amplify the host’s current dominant emotion. Heightening fear, rage, devotion, joy, grief, or desire while simultaneously boosting physical strength, speed, and endurance.

Lyssandra’s eyes widened in stunned realization. ”No wonder,” she breathed. ”It amplifies emotions and enhances physical abilities simultaneously. It’s like… an emotional steroid.” A dubious smile spread across her face. ”This… this might be incredibly useful.”

”Ste... what?” Miriel asked.

With newfound enthusiasm, Lyssandra began harvesting the Heartspores, storing them carefully within the system inventory.

”Are you sure that’s wise?” Miriel asked nervously, hovering nearby. ”After what happened, It’s dangerous.”

”Oh, absolutely,” Lyssandra agreed, not pausing in her harvesting. ”It’s potent and unpredictable. But imagine harnessing its effects intentionally. Directing that emotional surge.”

She straightened up, brushing fungal residue from her gloves, speculative gleam in her eyes. ”A little boost of rage for a warrior in a tight spot. A surge of devotion to bolster loyalty. A shot of terror to send enemies fleeing. The applications are… intriguing.”

Satisfied with her haul, she turned towards the exit. ”Alright, little mouse,” Lyssandra announced, her voice brisk and decisive. ”We’ve learned what we could here. It’s time to leave this place.”

Miriel nodded fervently, more than ready to escape the oppressive atmosphere. She took one last look at the skeletal remains of Rael, offering a silent prayer to Caelus for his tormented soul. Then hurried after Lyssandra as the tall woman strode towards the stone doors they’d entered through.