Acquired

Badul stood in the middle of formless chaos.

No sky, no ground, no up or down, no near or far — only boundless chaos surrounding him on all sides.

"Where... is this?"

He reached out his hand. His fingertips disappeared into the chaos, the sensation sticky, like plunging into half-dried mud — a strange resistance, faintly warm.

"What is this?"

He didn't know what he was doing, or what he should do, but his hands had already moved on instinct, plunging into the chaos and stirring, as though searching for something buried inside.

His fingertips suddenly touched something.

The next instant, the chaos receded. The stickiness vanished, replaced by a dim room.

In the center of the room stood a half-demon.

Badul's body moved faster than his mind. His center of gravity dropped, fists tightened, feet planted — combat ready.

But the half-demon didn't move. Didn't even look at Badul.

Badul cautiously tried taking a step forward, and something strange happened.

A ring of ripples spread out from under his foot, wavelets flowing along the floor until they gathered at the half-demon and flowed into his ear. Only then did the half-demon seem to notice Badul, turning his head slowly toward him.

There was no time for any exchange. The chaos, which had retreated to the edges, surged up without warning and swallowed Badul in an instant.

---

Badul opened his eyes slowly, vision blurring before coming into focus. He found himself lying in a soft bed, a thick blanket draped over him. The firewood in the hearth crackled steadily, orange-red light dancing across the walls, filling the whole room with warmth.

Several high-grade healing potions sat on the bedside table, the glass glinting amber in the firelight. One was already half-empty. Badul stared at it for a while before fragmented memories began surfacing — the blue dragon, the lightning ball, the shattered axe... he'd been defeated.

The dragon had detected them before they reached her, deliberately gathering her breath in advance. They'd been caught completely off guard.

But Badul knew, deep down, that even without that breath attack, they wouldn't have won.

The gap was too enormous.

Yet somehow the blue dragon hadn't killed him?

Thinking this, Badul raised his arms and saw his hands — mycelium and body hair tangled together.

"So that's what happened..."

He felt no anger, no panic. He knew perfectly well — whoever saved him must have had no other choice but to let the mycelium infect him. Being alive was all that mattered. Nothing to resent.

Even with the debate over mycelium raging across the Mountains, Badul — who had fought alongside the Mushroom Fortress — felt no aversion to the mycelium now in his body.

Voices drifted in from outside. The room was well-insulated; even straining his ears, Badul couldn't make out the words. He was just about to give up when a strange new awareness appeared in his mind — he could "see" the sound.

The thin thread of voice slipping through the door crack sketched out the scene in the next room like an invisible wire.

Outside was a sitting room with two dwarves.

One was his comrade — the old mage.

The old mage stood before the fireplace, fury pressed into every line of his brow.

The dwarf across from him wore far finer robes — collar and cuffs embroidered with intricate patterns, set with gems. A minor noble, at a glance.

Everything in the sitting room was clearly visible in Badul's mind. He could even sense a portion of what lay beyond the outer walls — but no further.

[Vibration Sense LV1]

Badul had no idea why he could "see" through the wall into the next room, but he refocused on the conversation.

This time, he caught every word.

"You can't do this!" The old mage's eyes bulged, his beard bristling upward in fury, as if he was a breath away from launching himself into a brawl. "They risked their lives fighting dragons for the sake of the Mountains, barely made it back alive, and now they need rest. There's no reason to treat them like criminals and drive them out!"

The well-dressed dwarf didn't flinch.

He simply furrowed his brow slightly, his voice carrying the steady neutrality of someone doing their job.

"My lord, I understand your position. I have every respect and sympathy for Lord Badul and his warriors. But this isn't something I have the authority to decide. The Infected cannot remain in rear cities — they are to be placed under unified management. This is the latest directive from the Mountain Council. I'm only following orders, and I ask that you not make things difficult for me."

"Nobody is taking anyone away until they've recovered!" The old mage held his ground. "Go ahead and call in the army — and let's see if they'll actually follow that order."

That finally cracked the official's expression.

Badul was a dwarven hero, well-regarded throughout the military. Calling in the army to cart them away — whether the troops would actually comply was genuinely uncertain. If they obeyed, fine. If they refused, the whole affair would blow up into something nobody could walk away from clean.

The official was still weighing his options when the bedroom door swung open.

"Badul! You're finally awake!" The fury on the old mage's face gave way instantly to surprise and relief.

Badul didn't bother with small talk. Leaning against the door frame, he asked directly: "How long was I asleep? How have things already gotten this bad for the Infected?"

"Two days."

"Two days?" Badul's brow knit tight. "How did things escalate this fast?"

"Apparently another clan member was assassinated." The old mage let out a short, disgusted sound.

Badul felt the weight of it.

He thought back to the northern war — the Empire's suicidal move of persecuting the Infected was still fresh in his memory.

You couldn't crack down too hard on the Infected. That much even he could work out.

What he couldn't understand was how those shrewd, calculating clan chiefs — with that exact precedent right in front of them — had managed to push through a proposal this inflammatory in just a few days.

Something this significant normally took seven or eight rounds of back-and-forth in the clan council before it got off the ground.

So why the sudden efficiency? And why was everything charging full speed in exactly the direction most likely to cause conflict?

Badul had a nagging sense that something wasn't right. He intended to find out.

He walked up to the official and said plainly: "I'm going back to Forgefire Capital. Are you going to stop me?"

"If you wish to return, no one can stop you, it's just — it's just—" Faced with the awake Badul, the official who had refused to budge moments ago could only manage a diplomatic expression. "My lord, I hope you'll allow us to send a detail to... 'escort' you back. Would that be acceptable?"

"Sure."

As he spoke, Badul shifted slightly to one side — sidestepping a candleholder bracket that had loosened from the wall and was about to fall overhead, as if he'd seen it coming all along.

(End of Chapter)