It was still more than a day until the banquet at the Adventurers’ Guild. Marked Skull had said he would go “to listen to the predators’ mad rumblings.” Lucy surprised him by saying she would come with him. He’d tried to talk her out of it, but the big guy was a softie at heart. When she said that nothing bad would happen with him around to keep watch, he had gotten flustered. He was the protector of the Wendren, after all, and he liked to be seen as such.
The soft rain slid down her abdomen as she ventured into the fifth floor. It was beautiful here. She had to be careful with all the animals around, but there were no monsters in sight. She wandered, her heart light with wonder, exploring to her heart’s content.
That’s when she found it.
A small island nestled between two rivers, on the northern edge of the floor. The island rested near a cliff where the waterfall cascaded down. At its center stood a massive shroom tree, its cap wide and sturdy.
“Beautiful!” she yelled.
The birds in the vicinity took off in a panic, but Lucy didn’t care. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she searched for a shallow part of the river to cross. After a few minutes, she found it.
The twilight dimmed into the storm-filled night, lightning flashing across the sky. For others, this might have been a hindrance, but Lucy was adapted to this world. The swamp was her home now, and she loved it.
As she climbed the shroom tree, the fifth floor slowly came to life with its bioluminescent glow. Plants shimmered softly, and some of the animals glowed in patterns across their bodies. It wasn’t everywhere, just small patches of light, but the effect was breathtaking.
“Wow...” she whispered.
She hung upside down from the cap of the shroom tree, watching the glowing insects drift lazily through the air. The lights blinked and shimmered like tiny stars. She never knew a swamp could be so beautiful. People always spoke of swamps with disgust, but here… here was a world of wonder.
Her eyes grew heavy. Her body relaxed, swaying gently in the breeze. Sleep came peacefully.
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SYSTEM ACTIVATION
A sudden jolt shook her awake.
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System Message:
System activation commencing. Due to established system access, no system access ritual is necessary. Warning: Already established system found. Human system installation failed. Compromise: System hybridization. Hybridization successful! Choose your class:
* Druid of Dungeon Balance
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“What is going on? What is this?” she murmured, blinking in confusion. Then it hit her.
Human system…
Her eyes widened. “Today’s my birthday? I’m fifteen now?” Her voice trembled with excitement. “It’s my birthday!!”
Her thoughts raced, but the system wasn’t done.
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System Message:
Due to only one available class, auto-acceptance is commencing. Congratulations, you are now a Druid of Dungeon Balance! Under your care, the ecosystem will thrive!
New Skills Available:
* Spawn Monster
* Terraform
* Nature’s Healing Touch
New Passive Skill Available:
* Nature’s Path
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“A druid? What’s a druid? I have to ask Adrian!” She felt a rush of joy and confusion. She had a class now! A real class!
She scrambled down the shroom tree, her limbs moving with the urgency of excitement. As her feet hit the soft, mossy ground, she rushed in the direction of the hollow tree. But a thought made her stop in her tracks.
Her excitement paused as another thought struck her.
“Wait a minute… Spawn Monster? Like… like Adrian?”
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System Explanation:
* Spawn Monster: Use your mana to spawn a monster. Mana cost is equivalent to the monster’s power; cooldown of one hour. Spawned monsters take orders from the dungeon but prioritize your commands.
* Terraform: Use mana to alter terrain inside the dungeon. Cost scales with the complexity of the change.
* Nature’s Healing Touch: Heal creatures or plants by touching them. Mana cost scales with injury severity.
* Nature’s Path: Your steps bring nature to life. Wherever you touch the ground, swamp flowers and mushrooms grow. You gain permanent mana regeneration while touching natural surfaces.
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She glanced down. Around each of her five feet, swamp flowers and mushrooms bloomed. She lifted a leg, and the flowers withered into muddy dirt. When she set it down, they grew again.
“Wow… they’re beautiful!” A mischievous grin spread across her face. “Let’s go a little ‘Adrian’ here.”
She spent the next hour using Terraform to make small hills and plant trees. Her mana drained quickly, but as long as her feet touched the ground, it regenerated. In an hour, she was full again.
Only one skill left to try.
She activated Spawn Monster and scrolled through the list. One creature caught her eye: “Infested Treant.”
“A tree-friend? A tree that’s a friend? That sounds awesome!”
She finalized her choice. A ring of mushrooms grew in front of her. Inside the circle, a sapling sprouted, growing taller and taller. The trunk split into two legs, branches formed arms, and the top revealed a face. Soft green light glowed in its eyes as leaves swayed in the breeze.
Exhausted, Lucy sagged to the ground, breathing heavily but smiling.
The Treant looked down at her, its movements slow and deliberate. It knelt, scooping her up gently. She gazed into its eyes — eyes filled with affection and love.
“Would you… take me to Adrian?” she whispered.
The Treant nodded, placing her carefully on its shoulder. It sniffed the air, the glow in its eyes dimming briefly, then turned toward the hollow tree.
It walked slowly, carefully, avoiding every plant and creature in its path. Lucy leaned against its sturdy form, a warmth in her heart.
This was her creation. Her tree-friend.
And it was perfect.
Marked skull:
The rain pattered gently on the woven roof of the chieftain's hut, a rhythmic sound that filled the air with a sense of calm. Marked Skull sat cross-legged, his massive form partially cloaked in shadows. His three eyes glowed softly, their eerie light betraying his constant vigilance. The flickering light from a small brazier cast dancing shadows on the walls, illuminating the intricate patterns etched into the wooden beams — symbols of the sacred tree and his ancestors.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Outside, the muffled sounds of village life continued. The Wendren moved through the swamp, their forms blending seamlessly with the misty, humid air. The scent of wet earth, moss, and distant flowers lingered, grounding Marked Skull in the simple, familiar rhythm of his people’s existence.
Suddenly, a soft luminescence caught his attention through the open flap of the hut. He turned his head, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.
Lucy.
She walked beside a towering Treant, its wooden limbs moving with deliberate grace. Bioluminescent flowers and mushrooms bloomed with each step she took, the soft glow trailing behind her. As her feet touched the ground, delicate blossoms unfurled, only to wither and vanish when she moved on. It was a fleeting display of beauty, a testament to her strange new power.
What new blessing has she received from the dungeon now? he wondered, his thoughts a mix of pride and awe.
His gaze lingered on her retreating form as she headed toward the hollow tree — the heart of their world. Whatever this power was, it would shape her future in ways he could not yet understand.
A rustle of footsteps pulled his attention away. A female Wendren walked by the entrance of his hut, her form cloaked in moss-green fabric, adorned with subtle patterns of bone and feather. What caught his eye was the mask she wore — a striking piece of craftsmanship carved from bone and decorated with colorful feathers, sharp lines giving it an air of fierce reverence.
Marked Skull’s curiosity flared. This is an interesting day indeed.
He rose to his full height, his imposing figure radiating authority. With measured steps, he approached her and gently stopped her with a hand gesture.
“Greetings, Wendren. That is an intriguing mask you wear. I have never seen one quite like it. What is its purpose?”
The female Wendren froze momentarily, a hint of nervousness in her stance. The giant chieftain’s presence was commanding, and now he was circling her, examining every aspect of her mask and clothing. She took a steadying breath.
“I thought it would look nice, my chieftain,” she said hesitantly. “I did not expect it to catch your eye.”
Marked Skull’s gaze softened, the intensity of his eyes dimming slightly. He reached out and traced his fingers over the surface of the mask, feeling the texture of the material.
“Feathers,” he mused. “We usually discard them when hunters bring back flying prey. And this mask itself… What is it made of?”
“It is parasite resin, mixed with powdered stone and bone,” she explained. “It is strong, yet light, and holds color well.”
His eyes caught the intricate lines and paintings etched into the mask — depictions of the sacred tree, Wendren warriors, and swirling patterns representing life and growth.
“Your craftsmanship is remarkable,” he said, a smile curving his lips. “I wish to have a mask like this for ceremonies. Your creativity knows no bounds, does it?”
A spark of pride flickered in her eyes. “I have more ideas, my chieftain. I have begun transforming my home into a workspace for creating more than masks — clothing, armor, even weapons. I’ve been experimenting with fabrics, bone, and parasite resin. There will be space for it all.”
The glow of Marked Skull’s eyes intensified, excitement and approval radiating from him.
“Show me,” he said, his voice filled with eager anticipation.
The female Wendren bowed slightly, a smile of her own forming, and gestured for him to follow. Together, they walked through the village toward her home on the edge of the labyrinth, where a new vision of Wendren artistry and identity awaited.
Marked Skull rarely ventured into this part of the labyrinth. His duties often kept him stationed near his hut by the sacred tree, where the main road wound its way through the Wendren village. But now, as he took in his surroundings, he realized this area had transformed — a hub for artisans and toolmakers had blossomed under his nose, unseen and unnoticed by him. That was unacceptable for a chieftain.
“Interesting! I must start making my rounds through the entire labyrinth. How did I miss this transformation? That is unacceptable of a chieftain,” he muttered, his voice a low rumble.
“Do not worry, my chieftain. The Wendren are united under the sacred tree. One day, you would have seen it, even without me leading you here,” the female Wendren beside him reassured.
Marked Skull turned his glowing gaze toward her. “What is your name, Wendren?” he asked, curiosity threading his words.
“My siblings call me Splintered Hoof,” she replied calmly.
They reached her hut, and Marked Skull immediately noticed what she meant by transforming it. The entire right side of her hut was missing, replaced by the beginnings of a spacious workspace. The structure was in its raw form — sticks and branches bound together with plant fibers — but it was functional. A large wooden table stood at the center, covered with tools and half-finished projects. Masks lay scattered across the surface, alongside colorful feathers, bones, and containers filled with crushed stones. Bowls of pulverized insects and plants in various hues completed the organized chaos.
Marked Skull’s eyes widened with admiration. “How did you come up with all this, Splintered Hoof?” he asked, astonished.
“The sacred tree teaches us that we only learn by experimenting,” she said, pride swelling in her voice. “There were many failures, but the sacred tree says, ‘Failures mark the road to success.’ You preached it yourself in the last ritual, Marked Skull.”
He nodded, impressed. His gaze wandered around the workspace, then drifted into the interior of her hut through the open doorway. A carving on the wall caught his attention, drawing him forward as if enchanted. Without asking permission, he stepped inside, his eyes fixed on the intricate design.
It was a carving of the sacred tree, but it was surrounded by something new — a city. The labyrinth was gone, replaced by buildings of stone arranged in concentric circles. At the center, the sacred tree’s base was enveloped in a grand structure, its branches stretching through the roof. Smaller temples stood at the four cardinal points, guarding the sacred space.
“What is this, Splintered Hoof?” he whispered, awe in his voice. “It’s beautiful.”
Splintered Hoof’s cheeks warmed beneath her mask. “A vision, maybe? A dream?” she stammered. “I had the idea one night and couldn’t let it go. I had to carve it into my wall…”
Marked Skull’s eyes glowed with renewed excitement. “I see the path of our people here. The masks, the clothing you spoke of…” He turned to her, his voice eager. “I have a meeting with the predators tomorrow evening. Do you think you can make five sets of clothing and masks by then? I want them to see who we are!”
Splintered Hoof’s excitement faltered. “Five sets?” she repeated, shaking her head. “No, that’s too much for one day…”
Marked Skull leaned forward, determination radiating from his massive frame. “What if I organize help from other skilled Wendren?”
Her eyes sparkled with renewed hope. “That could work… if I start immediately.”
“Then let’s waste no time!” Marked Skull declared, striding out of her hut with purpose. His voice boomed through the clearing as he called for artisans, toolmakers, and weavers.
The predators would see the Wendren for what they truly were — not prey, but fellow hunters. He would make sure of it.
Later at the Academy:
The hall was filled with adventurers — loud, skeptical, and restless. Conversations buzzed like flies, a mix of curiosity, excitement, and tension as everyone waited to see what this “Wendren delegation” would look like.
Suddenly, the room's energy shifted. A tension crackled in the air, spreading like an invisible wave. Conversations trailed off. Heads turned toward the entrance as the heavy door creaked open.
An adventurer stumbled through, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Guys, you won’t believe this… I mean… whatever. The Wendren are here. Hold on to your seats, everyone!” he stammered, quickly stepping aside.
The room fell silent.
Marked Skull entered first, a towering presence clad in full ceremonial attire. His mask shimmered with glowing feathers, reflecting the torchlight like captured starlight. His broad shoulders bore the weight of parasite growths, adding an air of primal majesty. Behind him, Wendren warriors followed, their parasite armor and feathered masks blending strength and beauty into an otherworldly display.
And then came Lucy and Chomp.
Lucy’s dress, made of giant pink flower petals, shifted with every step, the petals seeming to breathe and flutter like living things. Her bioluminescent markings glowed softly, casting a gentle light around her. With each footfall, swampflowers and glowing mushrooms bloomed beneath her, only to wither and vanish as she moved on.
At the sight of her, Ulrick and his team, seated beside Thalia Greaves, froze mid-motion. They had never seen the Wendren in such elaborate clothing, nor Lucy looking so… disturbingly beautiful. Even Chomp was his usual self, tongue lolling out as he toddled beside her.
Lucy and the Wendren scanned the room — a simple tavern hall with stone and wooden walls, torches, and braziers casting flickering light. A long table, formed by shoving all the smaller tables together, groaned under the weight of various foods and drinks. At least twenty shocked faces stared back at them, eyes wide with wonder and disbelief.
Marked Skull stepped forward, his voice deep and steady. “The predators invited us to their feast, stretched out their hands in friendship. So here we are, ready to tell stories around your fire and enjoy your food!”
At that moment, a blur of pink petals shot past the Wendren delegation. Only the Wendren themselves weren’t surprised.
Lucy ran straight toward Nole, who sat wide-eyed and stunned. Grabbing Nole’s hands, Lucy’s face lit up with pure excitement. “Nole! Nole! Look! Isn’t my dress beautiful? One of the Wendren made it for me! I feel so pretty!”
She hopped up and down, her energy infectious. Nole, caught in Lucy’s exuberance, grinned and joined her. “Oh, it’s totally pretty!” she laughed, bouncing alongside Lucy.
Soft chuckles rippled through the room. The sight of an innocent child, so full of joy, brought a rare and refreshing lightness to the usually serious atmosphere of the Academy.
“What are those flowers, Lucy?” Ulrick asked, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “They weren’t there before.”
Lucy paused, mid-hop. “Oh, those are from my passive skill…” She knelt down, touching a particularly pretty flower with delicate care. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt the mana flowing through its stem, the gentle pulse of life energy.
She concentrated on the feeling.
Without her noticing, the entire room began to change. Flowers and mushrooms sprouted across the stone floor, pushing up through cracks and seams. Soft, bioluminescent light blossomed, driving the shadows back. Glowing spores drifted lazily through the air, casting hues of purple, blue, and green across the walls and ceiling.
The adventurers’ eyes widened, mouths agape. The hall had transformed into a glowing, enchanted grove.
“Wow…” Nole whispered, her voice barely audible.
The magic wavered. Lucy’s concentration broke, and in an instant, the flowers and mushrooms withered, crumbling to dust and fading away.
“Oh! Sorry!” Lucy laughed, scratching the back of her head. “Spaced out for a second there! So… where were we? Free food?!”
Her eyes lit up as she noticed Chomp already gnawing on a roasted chicken, his cheeks stuffed full, completely oblivious to the stunned silence around him.