Even though Gauss felt the hunger wasn't his own, Alia had already offered. He wasn't about to brush off her kindness.
"Thanks." He tossed a few Goodberry into his mouth; their energy spread through him quickly. As expected, the hunger didn't ease. The white egg kept broadcasting its need—and the feeling bled into him.
You want to…
He swallowed, staring at the writhing "door" ahead.
The others were startled that Gauss was "hungry" at a moment like this, but there was no time to pry; all eyes fixed on the wall.
"This is Laduguer's taint?" The foul, baleful breath rolling off the arch made them all frown. Solin, especially—his grip on the hammer tightened, a gut-deep revulsion rising unbidden.
The dark-red fungal scab made the air feel thick and filthy—as if each breath corroded you from the inside. Thank the Light for Elton's shining barrier; without it most of them would have dropped soon.
Nancy's staff-tip blazed with detection as she probed the carvings, voice turning grim. "It's stronger than we thought… Solin."
The prophecy had pointed them here, but not with detail. This taint was already well awake—stable in shape and slowly fouling the material world.
Elton's face hardened. "We have to destroy it. If it holds, it becomes a source and a beacon—and it'll be easier for interference to reach through."
His faith wouldn't let it stand. He served Lathander, the Morninglord—neutral good, widely worshipped across the land, god of dawn, rebirth, hope, renewal, youth. Everything in that purview stood against this rot that sought to drag life into stillness.
He came prepared. He lifted the rose-red disk of his holy symbol and began to chant. A brilliant orb of "sunlight" swelled from it—the first golden ray warm and hopeful, heat that purifies the dark.
It met the fungus—and reacted. Sizzle, sizzle. Black smoke jetted; the outer layer charred and shrank.
"RRAAH!!"
Gauss could almost hear a wordless bellow in the air. The taint reeled under the check, screeching and throbbing harder. The counterpunch was fierce; the light that had had the upper hand suddenly reeled, dimming.
Gauss was glad he hadn't leapt forward under the egg's goad. Divine power runs on its own rails; even a "whiff" can smash a low-tier professional. Elton was drawing on a god and still losing ground; if Gauss had rushed in on impulse…
The red arch darkened; in its center the black deep began to turn, and shadows squeezed out—no known shape, pure malice and negative energy in twisted human mime. No face, no clean lines—only a writhing outline, stretching and twitching, spear-tipped tendrils trailing black, tarry drips. Faint shackles ringed their necks, the chains back into the vortex.
Light dropped in the cave as if something ate it; Elton's symbol guttered. Cold crept through the air.
"What is that?" Solin spat—then jumped forward, shield raised, as they surged for Elton. The hammer and shield passed through without resistance. The shadow wrapped along his weapons, where it passed the runes on his armor dimmed.
When it reached his throat, a pendant flared—a soft glow that drove the shadow back. He staggered, sucking air. "Watch it—steel doesn't work!"
"Behind me," Elton ground out, forcing more power into the symbol, light gnawing back the dark—shadow-men and all. He was in the shallows of a deep sea—he could borrow a god's light, but at his frame the channel pinched. He could hold the line for a moment—but not long. He was a breath from ordering a retreat.
Gauss watched, gauging the fight. Two powers locked at the edge, and that edge gave him a sliver to wedge into. The egg in his chest trembled, hungrier, urging him on—as if to say it could handle this taint.
Can you, little one? he asked inwardly.
A burbling yes answered him. He still wasn't easy—but he remembered the Black Forest; the egg had carried him out then. He chose to trust.
"Elton—can you hold it a bit harder? I think… I can help."
"You?" Elton started to snap, then saw Gauss's eyes and swallowed it. "I'll try. Do what you need—fast. I'm running dry."
"Thanks." Gauss nodded.
A pulse of intent rose from the egg; he half-understood. He gripped the white staff—Light burst from it.
"Eeee!!" The dark screamed as the cantrip flared full and Elton bit down, and for a moment light slammed the black flat. It wouldn't last—the fungus sizzled and smoked, but it clung.
Gauss's right hand clenched; scales flooded it into a dragon's claw—and this time, white shot with gold poured out and sheathed the claw, a breath of sanctity burning on the brutal shape.
Now. With the darkness driven thin, he sprang—slipping past the shrieking shadows. The white-gold claw speared for the core: the very heart of the black vortex.
"ROAR!!"
The taint screamed—fear for the first time. It boiled and cast a storm of black filaments to bind the claw—"Pop!"—they exploded on contact, like a bug meeting its bane. The claw punched through the seething filth and, with all Gauss's strength behind it, slammed into the throbbing core.
BOOM!!
Black particles blew like chaff. The cave rocked. To Gauss it was like driving his arm through slick mud. A cold, knife-pure evil poured into his hand like a siphon drawing—dense strands of darkness funneled into his raised claw. He clenched—and refined.
The taint sagged—spine pulled out—red fungus withered, carbonized, collapsed in sheets. The shadow-men wailed once and burned to smoke.
Elton's burden vanished; he dropped to the stone, panting, staring blankly at the white-gold claw and the absence of evil. What is that power?
Solin, Nancy, Alia, and Serandur stood frozen. This had been a god, in a sense—a trace, yes, but normally you needed something on that level to counterbalance it. That's why even elite adventurers sometimes bowed to temples: one borrowed line to cling to life.
Gauss shut his eyes. The refined evil spilled into the egg; cold bit his core. The egg, delighted by a rare feast, devoured it clean—then sent a wash of energy back to him: a share for the hand that fed it.
"Buzz, buzz." Heat bloomed through him. In his mind's depths, the mana cup shone and filled; the flow quickened. An invisible experience bar lurched forward.
Some of the energy did not go to the cup—it seeped into his body and mind, feeding both.
"Ahh—" He opened his eyes, satisfied. In those few seconds, he'd felt his class experience jump—hard. With the lingering seep, a few more commissions might show him the threshold of Level 4.
Gods were nothing to sneeze at. Even a thread could push a professional forward. And advancement is hard; many spend years for a rank—or a lifetime and fail. He'd only just hit 3—and half the climb to 4 had jumped.
A dozen meters back, Alia and Serandur shivered in unison. They looked at each other—then at him.
"You—"
"Did you—"
"Later," Alia swallowed. "Back at base."
"Right." Serandur had felt the same—something had cracked inside him; the door from 3 to 4 had stuck for so long—now it swung. He'd level soon. It had to be Gauss.
"Haha! Lad, I don't know what you did, but—well struck!" Solin's bass laugh broke the hush. The job in the Jade Forest was done—twists and all. They'd finished it on Gauss's shoulders—but finished it all the same. Any wound to the duergar and theirs was good news.
Nancy and Elton let out the breath they'd been holding. A moment ago they'd been ready to cut and run.
"Let's get out," Gauss said. He'd rattled the cave to its bones; even if it had stilled, it felt like it would fall.
"Yes, yes," Solin said. They retraced their steps at a trot. Cracks had spidered along the walls; stones fell.
"Move!" They did, and squirmed out through the cleft just ahead of the collapse.
Thud!!
A heavy groan from below—the cleft and tunnel sealed.
"I don't think we can rest yet," Gauss said, looking at the spent Elton. "That much noise—our neighbors heard."
Everyone went cold at the reminder. They'd forgotten where they were.
"Run." Consensus was instant. They didn't stop—hoof and foot hard for the far side of the forest. Horns called through the trees—the camp was mustering. Only after ten-plus kilometers did they slow and breathe—if that tide caught you, there would be no living through it. A short-range blink doesn't help with an army.
They found the mounts, swung up, and rode for the edge.
Deep in the Jade Forest—
A place most adventurers would never see. It wasn't "scary"—it was stunning. Ancient trees pierced the world—giants from uncounted ages standing over the green sea.
Every trunk gleamed like cut emerald; the leaves shone with magic—green and dark-gold canopies knitting and nearly sealing the sky. The air was thick enough with life to feel like substance—and with a pressure that rolled like a stormfront.
Under that weight, the miles around were silent—no insect, no bird—only a low breath, slow and deep, beating with the earth's heart. It came from the forest's center: a palace grown of living trees knotted and twisted into a hall—the Green Dragon Queen's lair.
Under the dome woven by the "Shadowsong" ancient tree, runes flowed along walls and floor—light and ward both. Without leave, nothing crossed.
The space was vast and dim—hills of treasure everywhere—gold, silver, jewels, gems, art, lost magic—heaped in dizzying shine. In a mountain of coins—gold slid, clattered, avalanched. A long, regal head pushed out, then a neck sheathed in scales brighter than the best emerald.
A vast slit of green opened—just a hair—and the hall drowned in dragonfear. Every attendant collapsed, trembling, pressed flat and holding breath.
Aesselas lifted her head with slow, perfect grace and turned it precisely—if Gauss had stood there, he would have seen the gaze fixed on the direction of the cave that had just collapsed.
Deep in the green eyes, a flicker—confusion and interest. She had felt it: a smear of god taint—too small to merit attention. What stirred her was a second pulse—brief, strange—alien, even to her.
Like catching a whiff of a spice no one had ever used in a kitchen she knew to the grain.
"Hm…?" A low, commanding rumble rolled—thunder passing through the hall. A single claw-tip, thicker than a man's leg, twitched. A nearby elder lizardman shaman crawled forward, forehead to the floor.
"Go," the queen's voice entered his mind—brooking no argument. "Find what happened there. There was… an interesting scent. Bring me the truth."
"As you command, Great Jade Gazer, Mother of All," the shaman hissed, bowing away and hurrying to set the order in motion.
Aesselas settled again. She was curious—but that breath was still too faint to warrant a flight to the edge. And she'd been told, for now, to hold. At the thought of the stay-your-hand command, a thread of irritation flickered in the green.
Enough—for now. Sleep.
The lid slid down; the piercing green sank under gold and gems. Silence—heavy, sacred—fell again.