My Dungeon Daddy System: Raising Monsters and Waifus Underground-Chapter 84 – The Photosynthesis Trap

The Fungal Highway was less of a road and more of a suggestion made by nature to see how many ankles it could break.

It was a suspended bridge formed entirely from the tangled, petrified roots of the massive trees that held up the ceiling of Floor 4. It wound through the bioluminescent darkness, hovering over an abyss that smelled of wet earth and ancient decay. To the left and right, giant shelf mushrooms glowed with a toxic neon-blue light, casting long, shivering shadows that seemed to reach for the party as they passed.

Reed trudged forward, the servos of the Weed Whacker Mk 1 whining in protest. The exo-harness felt heavier now. The initial adrenaline of the breach had faded, replaced by the grim reality of hauling three hundred pounds of magitech machinery through a sauna.

Inside the suit, Reed was sweating. Despite the [Thermal Equilibrium] buff keeping his core temperature stable, the psychological heat of the jungle was oppressive. It felt like walking inside a lung, warm, wet, and rhythmic.

"Status," Reed rasped, his voice amplified by the suit’s speakers.

"REAR GUARD SECURED." Terra rumbled from the back.

The Golem was walking backward, her massive stone eyes scanning the path behind them. She was glowing like a lighthouse. Her [Geo-Thermal Vent] skill was active, radiating a constant 500-degree aura that created a shimmering heat haze around the group. It was the only thing keeping the golden "Spore Delirium" dust from settling on their skin, pushing the toxins up and away on a thermal updraft.

"Point is clear," Seraphine reported from the front.

But her voice lacked its usual arrogant edge. Reed looked at her. The Lamia was moving with a slight hitch in her slither. The acid burns on her tail from the Sniper Lilies were hissing softly in the humid air. Her black dragon-scale lingerie, usually pristine, was pitted and smoking in places. Without a healer, those wounds weren’t closing.

"Sera," Reed said, stepping over a pulsing root. "How are the scales?"

"They hold, My Lord," Seraphine said, not looking back. She gripped her Magma Lance tighter, the orange light reflecting off her pale skin. "Pain is a reminder. It keeps the mind sharp against the illusions."

"Just don’t push it," Reed warned. "If you drop, I can’t pick you up. This suit doesn’t have a ’Carry Snake-Wife’ function. Grika didn’t install the forklift attachment."

"I will not drop," she promised, though her tail twitched with a spasm she tried to hide.

"Energy levels holding at 82%," Grika chirped from Reed’s side.

The goblin was the only one having a good time. She was practically skipping, protected by the heat shadow of the suit. She had her diagnostic tool out, scanning the local flora with manic glee.

"Boss, the bio-density here is insane!" Grika pointed at a cluster of ferns that looked like they were breathing. "The mana isn’t coming from the air; it’s coming from the ground. The whole floor is one giant digestive tract. It’s recycling the mana from... well, everything that dies down here."

"Comforting," Reed muttered. "Remind me not to die."

They reached a widening in the root-path. In the center of the clearing stood a massive, gnarled tree trunk that acted as a pillar supporting the roof. The bark was black and looked wet, oozing a slow trickle of the same pink sap they had seen earlier.

And at the base of the tree, the path was blocked.

"Hold," Seraphine hissed, raising a fist.

Reed stopped, the chainsaws on his gauntlets idling with a low, menacing purr that vibrated through his elbows.

In front of them were the statues they had seen earlier. The remains of the Silver Flame Paladins from two centuries ago. There were five of them here, half-buried in the wood, their rusted armor fused with the bark.

Moss covered their visors. Vines threaded through their ribcages. They looked like tragic monuments to failure. One of them, a massive figure in full plate, still held a rusted greatsword planted in the root-floor.

"We have to go through them," Reed said, eyeing the narrow path. The drop on either side was infinite darkness. "Terra, expand the heat bubble. I don’t want to touch them if we don’t have to."

"EXPANDING," Terra acknowledged. Her magma veins flared brighter, pushing the safe zone out by another five feet. The air rippled.

The team moved forward cautiously. Reed kept his eyes on the helmet of the lead Paladin. He could see the rust flaking off the metal.

As Reed passed the lead statue, he felt a vibration in the suit.

It wasn’t the engine. It was the Void Shard.

Thump.

The heartbeat of the floor grew louder.

Inside the rusted helmet of the lead Paladin, a light flickered. It wasn’t the white light of the Silver Flame. It was a sickly, verdant green.

Crrreeaaaak.

The sound of wood snapping echoed through the clearing.

"Boss!" Grika yelled, her scanner screeching. "Mana spike! They aren’t statues! They’re active!"

The lead Paladin moved.

It jerked its head up, the moss tearing with a wet ripping sound. The vines woven through its armor tightened like muscles. It didn’t step forward; it ripped itself out of the tree, taking chunks of wood and bark with it.

"INTRUDERS," the Paladin groaned.

The voice was wet, distorted by the vines growing in its throat. It sounded like a drowning man trying to shout through a mouthful of algae.

"PURGE... THE... ROT..."

"They’re active!" Seraphine roared, lunging forward. "Defensive formation!"

The other four statues tore themselves free. They weren’t graceful undead like skeletons or zombies. They were shambling mounds of metal and plant matter, driven by a corrupted, agonizing instinct to kill.

The Lead Paladin swung his rusted greatsword. It was slow, heavy, and coated in glistening green slime.

"I have him!" Seraphine shouted.

She moved to intercept, thrusting her Magma Lance. The superheated tip struck the Paladin’s breastplate.

HISSSSSS.

The magma melted through the rusted steel instantly, plunging into the chest cavity.

"Burn!" Seraphine snarled, twisting the spear.

But the Paladin didn’t fall.

Instead, the vines inside his chest pulsed. The wound didn’t cauterize; it bloomed.

[WARNING: SPORE DETONATION IMMINENT]

"Sera, back!" Reed yelled, seeing the pressure build in the creature’s chest.

POOF.

The Paladin’s chest cavity exploded. Not with fire, but with a dense, pressurized cloud of yellow dust.

Seraphine tried to raise her shield, but she was too close. The cloud enveloped her upper body.

"Gah!" Seraphine coughed, stumbling back.

The spores hit her acid-burned scales. The reaction was instant.

"It burns!" she cried out, dropping to one knee.

Where the spores touched her open wounds, tiny white flowers began to bloom instantly, their roots digging into her flesh to feed on her blood. It wasn’t poison; it was parasitic growth.

"Get her clear!" Reed commanded, revving his chainsaws. "Terra! Smash the little ones! Grika, stay on my six!"

"SMASHING!" Terra bellowed.

The Golem charged the two smaller statues, rogues fused with moss. She swung a granite fist the size of a wrecking ball.

CRUNCH.

She hit the first rogue. The impact was devastating. The rusty armor shattered, and the plant-body inside was pulverized against the tree trunk.

But as the body was crushed, it released a massive puff of gas.

HISSSS.

The gas hit Terra’s superheated body.

WHOOSH.

It ignited. The gas was flammable. Terra became the center of a fireball.

"I AM ON FIRE," Terra stated calmly from inside the inferno. "BUT FIRE DOES NOT HURT ROCK."

"It hurts us!" Grika shrieked, ducking behind Reed’s legs as the heat wave rolled over them.

The problem wasn’t that Terra was hurt; it was that the explosion scattered the remaining spores everywhere. The "Heat Bubble" was compromised by the chaotic turbulence of the fight. The air was filled with smoke, spores, and fire.

Reed looked at the battlefield.

Seraphine was down, clawing at the flowers growing out of her tail, her eyes glazing over. Terra was a walking bonfire surrounded by a cloud of toxic gas. And the Lead Paladin, despite having a hole in his chest, was raising his sword again. The vines were knitting the metal back together.

"They have [Kinetic Absorption] AND [Spore Defense]," Reed realized, his stomach dropping. "If we hit them, they explode. If we cut them, they regrow. We can’t fight them like monsters. They’re weeds."

The remaining two statues turned toward Reed. They sensed the Void Core. They sensed the fertilizer.

"FEED," they gurgled in unison.

They charged.

Reed raised his gauntlets. The chainsaws screamed, spinning up to full speed.

"Stay behind me, Grika!" Reed shouted.

He swung the right gauntlet. The obsidian teeth tore through the first zombie’s shoulder, severing the arm.

The arm fell to the ground. But before it hit the wood, it dissolved into a puddle of green slime that immediately shot out tendrils, trying to grab Reed’s boot.

"It’s a trap," Reed gritted his teeth, backing up. "The whole fight is a trap. We’re spreading the infection by fighting it."

He looked at Seraphine. She was struggling to stand, her eyes losing focus as the neurotoxins from the blooms entered her bloodstream.

"My Lord..." she whispered, her voice thick. "The garden... it wants me to sleep. It says... the soil is warm."

"Don’t sleep!" Reed ordered. "Grika! I need a solution! Physical damage is useless! Magma is too slow!"

Grika peeked out from behind his leg. She adjusted her goggles, staring at the regenerating mess of the Lead Paladin. Her yellow eyes were wide, reflecting the chaos.

"Entropy!" Grika yelled. "The saws work, but the range is too short! We need to apply the Void effect to a wider area! We need to atomize them before they can burst!"

"I can’t cast a spell that big!" Reed argued, deflecting a rusty sword blow with his armored forearm. CLANG. "I’ll burn out! The mana drain will kill me!"

"You don’t have to cast it!" Grika scrambled up his back, clinging to the engine housing like a monkey. "The suit has a secondary function! I didn’t tell you about it because it’s technically a war crime in three dimensions!"

"I authorize all war crimes!" Reed shouted, kicking a zombie away. The zombie just grabbed his foot. "Turn it on!"

"Napalm Protocol!" Grika cackled, her hands flying over the valves on his backpack. "I’m redirecting the exhaust vents! Instead of venting heat, we’re going to inject the Void-Oil directly into the combustion chamber!"

"What does that do?!"

"It turns your chainsaws into flamethrowers!" Grika screamed. "Hold on to your butt, Boss! This is going to kick!"

She wrenched a large, red valve on his shoulder.

CLICK-HISS.

The engine on Reed’s back changed pitch. The high whine dropped into a deep, guttural roar that vibrated his entire skeleton.

The violet light of the chainsaws intensified until it was blinding white-purple.

"Ignition!" Grika yelled.