Stepping out from the mission hall, Eric found Tyler waiting for her.
"Hey, Eric," he offered a crooked smile. "You wanted to learn lockpicking, right? I'll teach you—on the house. No medkits required."
Tyler had heard from Dennis that Eric had lent him a healing pack. Yet Dennis never returned alive.
And then there was Jerry. To survive until that fateful night when the helicopter finally arrived must have cost him dearly. Yet, to his dismay, he had been abandoned within the instance.
"This damn game doesn't even come with a manual. The dungeon's rules shift at whim, and we players are left to accept our fate. I've never encountered such repugnant mechanics! Jerry was right—there are countless ways to play, so why must we be bound to the game's arbitrary laws?" Tyler vented bitterly as he taught Eric.
"Is this what they call a trap in the game? Until the very last moment, we have no way of knowing we've fallen into one." Eric's heart tightened. Jerry's fate was a cruel injustice—though the island was ravaged by the zombie virus, survival still held a glimmer of hope. Yet with the island's annihilation, Jerry perished undeservedly.
This time she had been fortunate enough to chart the "correct path." What of next time?
"It's exactly a trap! Damn it, fleeing is already miserable enough without the game throwing traps in our way!"
Eric quickly mastered the art of lockpicking.
"It's quite straightforward. I've shown you the ropes—review and practice on your own later. Luckily, you have a real lock to work with; otherwise, I'd be teaching you in thin air, and that would be far more difficult!"
Tyler bid Eric farewell. "Girl, live well."
Eric bumped his fist against his. "Tyler, you live well, too."
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
They parted ways.
Returning to her room at the inn, Eric first washed away the residual odors with generous amounts of shampoo and body wash.
Gazing into the mirror, she noticed that all signs of her mutation had vanished upon completion of the mission.
Having not seen her own reflection for some time, she tentatively reached out to touch her face.
Smooth skin—her original visage was restored—the nineteen-year-old self she once was.
Yet something was undeniably different. Looking steadily into the mirror, she questioned: was it her eyes? The curve of her lips?
Everything had altered.
Attempting a stiff smile, she discovered she could not summon a genuine one. A sigh escaped her lips as she rubbed her cheeks until flushed.
Taking a jug of water from the supermarket for exercise, she soon realized her physical condition had reverted to what it was before the mutation.
With the lights off, her ability to see clearly in the dark had also vanished.
The mutation had been agonizing, yet it had bestowed certain benefits.
Still, Eric felt no regret; physical strength could be rebuilt through training, and her keen senses could be honed with each successive mission.
Abilities earned through one's own efforts are the ones that endure.
That afternoon, Eric embarked upon another mission.
Upon entering the instance, she found herself in an expansive farmland.
The fields stretched endlessly, carpeted with towering mushrooms—each as tall as a person—creating a magnificent spectacle. Scrutinizing them, Eric could not discern their species; such colossal fungi surely harbored an insidious secret.
"Where is this place? Didn't I die already?"
"What the heck is this? Looks like mushrooms! Do they grow mushrooms in Heaven?"
"So many new players."
Voices clamored around her as more arrivals poured into the instance. Eric silently counted—over a hundred players had gathered! Most were novices, bewildered and frantic, like headless flies incessantly questioning their predicament. One even ventured boldly into the mushroom forest.
"Hey, I told you not to meddle!" an experienced player shouted.
"I've never seen mushrooms this huge—" the newcomer spun in amazement, marveling, "That's a massive mushroom. One could feed a person for a month!" As he reached out to touch it—
"Eh? Why is it warm—"
Before he could finish, the mushroom stalk split open in an instant, swiftly engulfing him.
"He's been eaten!" the novices gasped in shock.
Eric took a cautious step back.
*Crack, crack*—the mushroom stalkswelled noticeably. The unfortunate player trapped within struggled desperately, leaving faint handprints pressing against the mushroom's surface. Yet hidden inside was a maw that promptly emitted muffled chewing sounds as the stalk writhed.
"Ah, it hurts! Help me!" The player's agonized plea echoed faintly, as if muffled within a sealed barrel. After that lone cry, silence fell.
Newcomers gaped in disbelief, while veteran players wore grave expressions. Eric tore off half a sleeve, rolled it into a ball, then carefully advanced a few paces before hurling the fabric bundle forward.
*Slap.*
The mushroom stalk split open once more to swallow the offering. In that moment, Eric glimpsed a pool of crimson slurry— the player had vanished.
"What on earth is this? Why do mushrooms eat people?" a novice demanded.
"How do we get out of here? I don't want to be here!"
The game's cruelty weighed heavily on the new players.
Eric spoke, "Once we clear the stage, we can leave—"
Her words caught short upon sighting a mushroom humanoid.
"Ah, fresh harvesters have arrived!" The mushroom figure stood barely half a meter tall, resembling the field's mushrooms in every detail. As it spoke, a vertical mouth on its stalk opened and closed rhythmically, tilting its head cutely.
It appeared abruptly, leaping from among the mushrooms, its sudden presence arresting all chatter. The novices fell silent, replaced by a flurry of eager discussions. Eric remained silent, observing patiently—waiting for the key to advancement.
"Clearing the level is simple," the mushroom creature chimed daintily, its tone affectingly sweet. "Bring me two mushrooms, and I shall grant you passages beyond this garden. The exit lies opposite the fields—I shall await your arrival there." With that, it bounded away, vanishing into the mushroom grove.
"This is a disaster! How do you pick mushrooms that eat you? The mushrooms might as well pick me!" lamented a veteran player.
Eric reasoned, "Surely there are harmless mushrooms among them; without those, the task could not be completed."
"This mushroom forest is a nightmare. How about we form teams?" proposed another seasoned player.
"Sounds good! Let's cooperate!"
Eric declined to ally with others. True, collaboration might improve survival odds, but it also risked igniting fierce struggles over mushroom harvests—something she wished to avoid.
"Who goes first?"
Silence.
"Rock-paper-scissors then. Loser goes first."
Before any team formation or debates could arise, Eric strode into the mushroom forest.
The moment she entered, her muscles tensed, prepared for a sudden assault by the fungi.
Seconds slipped into minutes; she ventured further, pausing cautiously—yet no threat materialized. She exhaled in relief; evidently, mere contact didn't provoke attack.
Veteran players who discerned the mushrooms' non-aggression followed suit, joined by braver novices.
Leading the way, Eric contemplated the method to safely harvest the fungi.
Outside the instance, she would simply pluck, pinch, or cut as convenient. But these mushrooms were far from mundane—one misstep invited being swallowed whole.
Players scattered, each searching cautiously for pickable specimens; none dared act hastily.
Conceiving a covert experiment, Eric slipped away from the others. The vast forest easily yielded a solitary spot free of other players.
Raising her hand, she grasped a kitchen knife, fastening it to a broomstick with strips of cloth—fashioning a makeshift harvesting tool. Swinging it, she struck a mushroom stalk casually.
The stalk yielded beneath the blade with flesh-like resistance. Had she closed her eyes, Eric might have mistaken it for a human limb.
Upon the strike, a mouth sprouted at the cut's edge, and the stalk writhed, attempting to bite her. Swiftly, she leapt aside.
"A mushroom stalk that can bend—" Eric marveled uneasily. Thankfully, her broom-staff kept distance; otherwise, the hazard would be grave.
After leaping, she saw the stalk bleed profusely. The wide mouth opened and shut in silent agony.
Several minutes passed before the wound sealed and the mouth reluctantly closed.
Deep in thought, Eric altered targets repeatedly, continuing her cautious probing.
The third mushroom.
The fourth.
…
By the twenty-third, a blade struck cleanly.
Unlike the previous flesh-like feel, this time the cut was crisp—
*Snap.*
A third of the mushroom severed, Eric pursed her lips and delivered a decisive kick, toppling it to the ground. As it hit the earth, the giant fungus deflated rapidly like a pierced balloon, shrinking until it was palm-sized.
A normal mushroom.
Eric waited briefly before picking it up. Holding the specimen, her feelings mingled—the path to clearing the zone lay clear. Among these cannibalistic fungi grew innocents.
Even with her advantageous edge, it took over twenty-four attempts to find a safe one—how would others manage?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a scream.
"Ah!"
"Help! Stop his bleeding! His arm's bitten off!"
Hearing the commotion close by, Eric stowed her mushroom in the supermarket and resolved not to investigate.
Continuing her trials with the knife, Eric dispatched another thirty or so carnivorous mushrooms. Each stalk twisted into unnatural arcs, forcing her reflexes to remain razor-sharp.
Only after tackling three more did she discover another normal mushroom.
Picking it up, she proceeded toward the forest's edge.
Along the way, she encountered other players similarly attempting harvests. The mushroom forest held nothing but fungi; there were no stones to throw or mud to hurl to keep the mushrooms at bay.
Consequently, players imitated Eric's early precautionary measures, shedding clothing and shoes.
Thus, Eric observed numerous players nearly naked, and even witnessed one running stark naked.
Some losses were graver—lacking limbs—the obvious casualties of clumsy tests obstructing timely retreats.
"Mushroom!"
A man's joyous yell drew Eric's gaze. A player had found a fungus, and others swarmed, igniting a fierce scramble.
Unwilling to be entangled, Eric swiftly veered away.
Suddenly, the rush of wind behind warned her of an ambush. Drawing upon her experience, she evaded deftly, pivoting to deliver a sharp kick to the attacker's shoulder.
The player, caught off guard, staggered, teetering sideways.
In other instances, a mere stumble might mean little; here, the man's faltering brought him dangerously close to a mushroom.
Cold dread seized the ambusher as the fungus's gaping maw snapped shut, its stalk looping to clamp onto his nape.
"Ah!"
Eric witnessed the man being devoured, blood spattering onto her forehead. Wiping the crimson drops away, she turned and pressed onward.
The mushroom forest was vast—it took her fifteen minutes to emerge.
The NPC mushroom figure awaited, basking in the sun before a simple wooden door that stood abruptly behind it. Beyond the door lay the shimmering exit.
After presenting two mushrooms, the creature happily handed Eric a passage ticket. "Go forth, go forth."
Pinching it, she noted the ticket felt more like a slice of flesh than paper.
With this token, Eric passed through the door, stepping into the portal.
[Player Eric has completed the ordinary mission: Mushroom Harvest, earning 4 points.]