Logan Murray sat up on his cot nestled away inside the utility shed on the Akros Coliseum grounds. He groaned and swung his legs out over the edge of the bed frame. Every bit of his pulpy yellow fungal body ached from the torment of his hellish summer. He would’ve preferred back-to-back boot camps at Fort Sill—freezing cold in February, drenched in sweat by March, wishing for death by April. And still, that would’ve been better than what the Rector Prime of the Shadowcroft Academy of Dungeons had done to Logan.

As it turned out, the gargoyle griffin was far more difficult to deal with as a friend than he had been as an enemy. Rockheart had taken Logan under his stone wing if only to beat him to death with his rocky interest. It felt as if he’d been fed through a meat grinder everyday for nearly three months. His body was battered, beaten, and broken, but today he woke up happy for the first time in a long time.

Honestly, Logan didn’t mind the training, but it would be nice to have a break, even if only a short one. Today, there would be no core cultivation while sitting among the Iceblade grass. No obstacle courses or dungeon crawls. There would be no need to painstakingly feed Rockheart’s hellhounds while they, in turn, tried to turn him into pizza toppings. Too often, snack time became murder time. Even that had its benefits, though. He had plenty of chances to practice his Exoskeleton Ability—an evolution of his original Harden Ability—and now he could make his skin so hard, not even the Rockheart’s pets could eviscerate him.

Well, most days anyway.

The weak morning light filled the cracks between the wooden slats. Dust motes drifted lazily in the heat. The place smelled like grass and oil and sweat, not from Logan—as a mushroom, he didn’t sweat. But there had been a ton of creatures rummaging through the shed over the past couple of weeks in preparation for the new school year. They’d come and grab the rusted wheelbarrow, or the garden tools, or drag out the big round practice dummies. Also in the shed were a few notched and rusted swords, a battle ax the size of Florida, and a handful of pitted spears.

Logan had set up his digestion pit in the far corner under a shelf holding chalk, bags of sand, and some grass seed. Right now, a decaying pork chop was covered in slimy mold. He’d have to re-absorb the digestion pit before he left or Rockheart would have a fit. That last thing Logan wanted was one more second of Rockheart’s attention.

Logan stretched and folded his blankets, grabbed his pillow, and threw some things into a wheelbarrow. He’d return it once he got his meager belongs to his new room. His magical shield, his rusted dagger—which had helped him pass his year one final—a few enchanted rings, Dungeon Core grimoire, or DCG because it wasn’t just the United States military that liked acronyms. He also had some extra robes and clothes and a dumb hat Marco had given him. With Logan’s yellow mushroom cap for a head, he didn’t need a hat, but he didn’t have the heart to throw it away and hurt the satyr’s feelings.

Honestly, that had been the hardest part of the summer—not the training, but rather the absence of his friends. It had been a productive summer, but largely a joyless one without Marko around. Inga had been buried in the library and Treacle had vanished up north, under Professor Crucible’s watchful gaze. He couldn’t wait to see all of them

He grinned. Plus, no more tool shed. He was getting a new room in the second year Azure Dragon dormitories! He wouldn’t be up in the attic! Actually, he would’ve preferred somewhere underground—a damp, moist place, with a constant temperature. That thought gave him a momentary pause. He really was a dungeon now. It was amazing how much his life had changed since the thrift store video game had literally eaten him the previous year. He’d been Last Starfighter’d. Or had he been Jumanji’d? Probably a little from Column A and a little from Column B.

Logan stretched sore muscles, then dropped down on the dirt floor and crossed his legs. He didn’t need to cultivate, and yet, it wouldn’t feel right starting the day without practicing his technique. And that was the tyrannical power of habit. Besides, he needed to re-absorb his pit and clean up the shelf. It was spotting with spores and one of the bags of grass seed had a couple mushrooms growing out of it.

Logan was wearing thin shorts and a light shirt. He tossed off the shirt and sat there with his thick teenage-mutant ninja turtle hands on his knees. In his yellow belly, gleamed his dungeon core gem, emitting a soft golden light. With a thought, he swept up both the digestion pit and the pork chop, folding the raw energy into his gem. He felt the Apothos buzz through the knot circling his core before disappearing into the core itself.

He checked his guardian core matrix:

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Logan Murray

Guardian Core Matrix

Base Race: Fungaloid

Current Evolution: Shroomian Acolyte

Cultivator Class: Iron Trunk Cultivator; C-Class, Rank 3

Primary Elemental Affinities: Morta/Toxicus

Racial Abilities:

Digestion

Racial Skill:

Domestic Fungi

Level-One Proto-Spore Cultures

Opal Truffles, Mucal Film, Ghoul’s Snare, Blister Wart, God’s Eye Caps

Level-Two Proto-Spore Cultures

Braincaps, Gem-studded Puffballs, Skullcaps

Level-Three Proto-Spore Cultures

Spore Wargs

Fungal Form (Active):

Exoskeleton Pneumacity

Fungal Form (Passive):

Fungal Vision Disease Immunity Poison Immunity Replicate

Spore Halo:

Pollinic Affliction Symbiosis Athlete’s Foot Rapid Growth Narcotic

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Logan had come a long way since he arrived at Shadowcroft’s door as a lowly E-Class Deep Root Cultivator. He’d burned through ranks and had managed to ascend even when everyone else thought he was dead in the water. Admittedly, his progress had slowed a bit since Logan and the Terrible Twelfth had defeated Rockheart during the Winnowing. That final battle had pushed him up to C-Class Rank 4 and he’d only advance to C-Class Rank 3 since then—not a huge gain for the amount of effort he’d put in, but still impressive. Rockheart believed Logan had some sort of blockage, preventing him from advancing faster, and what was Rockheart’s solution? More training.

Even if that was true, however, Logan was still thrilled with where he was. Passing Rank 5 had granted him with a variety of new abilities that he was excited to try out this year. First off, he’d unlocked two new Proto-Spore mushrooms, Level-One God’s Eye Caps and Level-Two Skullcaps.

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God’s Eye Caps (Type, Ingredient): This fungus glows with a pale blue bioluminescent light. It has a bitter and pungent taste, but it is a key, though common, ingredient in many core purifying elixirs. It is highly valued and sought after by Alchemists and Luminosus cultivators since it is one of the few natural resources with Luminal Affinity. Rarity: B-Class; Elemental Affinity: Pure Apothos, Luminosus

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Skullcap Waddlers (Type, Sentient/Minion): These are the first sentient, mobile mushrooms fungaloids have access to. At only three feet tall, these stubby, mushroom-shaped creatures move around on thick arms and short legs. They aren’t quick, but they do follow orders well and can wield primitive weapons. They are most effective in packs, where they can overwhelm their enemies. Beware the Waddlers! Rarity: C-Class; Elemental Affinity: Vita, Mallus

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The God’s Eye Caps were an excellent lure, but Logan was also hoping there might be some way to use them to help him break through his blockage. As for the Skullcap Waddlers, without Inga around, Logan had been forced to beef up the number of minions he could summon. His Spore Wargs were excellent, but he could only conjure three of them at the moment and that hardly made for much of a dungeon. The Waddlers were slow and not particularly bright or difficult to kill, but boy, sure could Logan create a lot of them.

Those weren’t the only changes, however. Logan had also picked up a powerful new Active Fungal Form called Pneumacity, a new Passive ability called Replicate, and an additional Spore Halo ability called Narcotic. All were powerful and potential game changers, both for Logan personally and for the rest of the Terrible Twelfth. Unlike his Active Form Exoskeleton—which increased the damage he could take, though slowing him down—Pneumacity made him more brittle, but incredibly fast.

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Fungal Form 2: Pneumacity. Trigger this ability to absorb additional oxygen into the fungal form, creating pockets of air that make you incredibly fast, but at a cost: your cellular integrity is compromised, meaning you are far more susceptible to physical damage—if they can catch you, that is.

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Logan had used that ability more than a few times to outrun Rockheart’s doomhounds when they were hankering for a bite. Admittedly, a greater susceptibility to physical damage was a major drawback, but to offset that, he now had the ability Replicate, which was also a powerhouse move in its own way.

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Replicate: It is but a flesh wound! You’re a fungus and wounds that might maim or incapacitate others are nothing more than a minor inconvenience to you at best. At early levels, replicate allows you to rapidly regrow lost limbs while at higher levels hacked off body parts can be triggered to rapidly grow into a ferocious Spore Warg!

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The Academy’s shrubbery doctors—Ned and Zed—had helped Logan fix his broken body more times than he could count. As a dungeon core, his real self was the gem, and the body was his guardian form. But now? With Replicate, Logan wouldn’t just be able to regrow body parts fast, but he’d soon be able to turn his own severed limb into a pet.

It was ironic that he’d lost a leg back when he was human. Now? That would never be a problem ever again. This was just one more way being a dungeon was flippin’ awesome.

He considered his last new ability—last but certainly not least, his latest Halo Spore ability, Narcotic, was sure to be tons of fun..

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Narcotic: If inhaled, these spore cause creatures to experience a brief bout of Euphoria, slowing their reaction time and making them far less susceptible to aggressive action. At higher levels, Narcotic can become so potent that it can create a side-effect known as Addiction. Those cursed with Addiction will become a willing servant in order to get another round of spores. Be warned! Fungaloids that possess the Narcotic ability are often hunted down and harvested by criminal organizations, for use in substances of a nefarious nature, such as Muze Blood and Avens Nether.

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Logan hadn’t had many opportunities to give that one a try, but he was sure it would come in handy this year. Although he would have to make sure to keep Marko away. Given half a chance, the satyr would likely try to turn the spores into a potent homebrew beer that he could sell on the side. With a content sigh, Logan stood and took one last look at his summer home. With how hot and dry it was, he wasn’t going to miss it. He’d had to throw buckets of water on himself to survive. Goodbye shed, hello sweet, sweet second year dormitories.

He ran his wheelbarrow across the arena fields, steeling his feet against the Iceblade grass. It hurt for a second until he switched on his exoskeleton and the fungal growths on his foot hardened into armor, which in essence was the ultimate and grossest athlete’s feet ever. And Logan should know since Athlete’s Foot was one his spore halo abilities. If this whole dungeon core business didn’t work out, he could get a job with Lotrimin AF in their R&D department.

Kidding. There was no going back to Earth. Logan had died and wouldn’t be human ever again—a tough truth he’d come to terms with last year. This was his life now, and the only reason he’d go home was to save his Apothos-poor homeworld. But first, he needed to get through his sophomore year without dying.