Thalor walked west, hoping it was the direction of the main road that skirted the forest. The earthy scent of damp leaves and the occasional crack of twigs beneath his feet accompanied him as he moved through the forest. He knew that once he found the road, it would be easy to return to the academy he belonged to.

The academy he attended was one of hundreds of low-tier mage colleges within the empire. Thalor was proud to have been accepted into one, though he wished it wasn’t ranked among the bottom hundred. The college itself sat on the edge of a small city, its stone halls more weathered than grand, with professors who taught fundamentals more than breakthroughs.

As he walked past towering trees and tangled roots, Thalor drifted into thought, attuning himself to the spores carried by the wind. Unlike before, he didn’t try to manipulate them but simply immersed himself in their presence, feeling each spore’s unique essence—what they came from and what they would become. Some spores sought to nurture plant life, others aimed to decompose the dead, and some had more mysterious purposes. Each one felt like an old friend he had known for years.

Lost in his musings, Thalor failed to notice the thin, ragged wolf emerging from behind a scraggly bush. Its ribs were painfully visible beneath matted fur, and its hollow eyes reflected desperation. It moved with a predatory grace, placing each paw with eerie precision.

The wolf, driven by hunger, crept toward him silently. Thalor, oblivious to his surroundings, moved forward at a leisurely pace, unaware that danger lurked mere steps away.

It wasn’t the sight or sound of the wolf that finally alerted him—it was the sharp pain of teeth sinking into his calf. Thalor screamed in pain and surprise, spinning around to confront the creature he was sure had torn his calf apart.

“Aghhh! What the hell?!” he shouted, turning and staring at the skeletal beast before him.

The wolf gave him no time to recover, lunging forward for another attack. Thalor stumbled backward, only to be stopped by a tree that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. As the wolf leaped again, Thalor sidestepped and swung at its face. He dodged the attack, but the wolf caught his fist in its jaws.

Panic clouded Thalor’s mind. He didn’t think to use his newfound fungal powers. Instead, he resorted to his only offensive spell—a simple force push. The spell, though weak, was enough to disorient the malnourished wolf. The shockwave vibrated through the wolf's skull, causing momentary brain damage. Seizing the opportunity, Thalor yanked his hand free and repeatedly slammed his fist into the wolf’s head.

After what felt like an eternity of blows, the wolf finally lay still. Exhausted and breathing heavily, Thalor collapsed against a nearby tree, his gaze shifting between his trembling hands and the lifeless body before him. To his surprise, upon closer inspection his hand was free of blood. White fungal filaments stretched across the wounds where the wolf's teeth had pierced.

He rolled up his pant leg to inspect the damage but found none. Even his pants remained intact. With a sardonic chuckle, he thought, “At least I don’t have to worry about paper cuts anymore.”

Then, a new sensation washed over him—hunger. It was an unfamiliar craving, primal and insistent, directed at the wolf's corpse.

Reluctantly, Thalor approached the dead wolf. As he stood over it, he saw not a fearsome predator but a pitiful, starving creature. With a sigh, he placed his hand on its ribs. Instinctively, he channeled the fungus within him into the lifeless body.

The fungus rapidly consumed the wolf, spreading until nothing remained but fungal mass. Slowly, the mass retracted, flowing back into Thalor’s hand.

Staring at his hand in shock, he whispered, “Well, that just happened.” A forced chuckle escaped him as he felt a sense of calm settle over his body, the strange hunger now gone.

Not knowing what to make of the mass that just merged with him, or knowing where it went exactly, Thalor stood up slowly and brushed himself off.

Taking one last look at where his ‘epic’ battle had taken place, he went back to forging his path, this time paying the attention that these woods deserved.

After another hour of walking, Thalor finally made it to the edge of the forest. Brushing some unruly branches aside, he stepped into an open field where, in the distance, he could spot a well-used road.

Just as Thalor took his first couple of steps, he froze. He remembered what he should have thought about the moment he saw the changes to his skin. He no longer looked like any race he knew of.

Usually, that wouldn't be a problem, as someone would know of a race no matter how exotic. But in his case, he must look completely unique. Looking closely at his limbs, he saw an almost bark-like texture.

He knew it wasn’t bark but some type of fungus, yet it was the closest comparison he could think of. “If my arms look this weird, what must my face look like?” he thought. Not having the answer, he decided to find out.

Not having a mirror, he checked the area for some water or maybe some metal. Luckily after some searching, there was a small pond not too far away. With a quick stride, he made his way to the water's edge.

Pushing aside some tall reeds, he peered into the pond. What greeted him was not the face he knew. It was similar but warped. The general shape remained close enough, but his actual face looked as if it had been smoothed out with that same fungal texture as his arms. His mouth and nose were still there, just less defined.

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Horrified by his reflection, Thalor fell to his knees. “If I just had different skin, maybe I could talk my way in. But now... now they'll think I'm probably a body-snatching monster.” he half cried to himself.

With great effort, he stood and faced a hard choice. He could try his luck at the gate of the city and risk being killed, or he could head back into the woods and hide until he found a way to correct his appearance. He chose the latter.

“With some time, maybe I can control a mass into the shape of my old face. Then I can get some help becoming human again.” He tried to convince himself it was a solid plan. It was the best he could come up with, but it still left him stuck in the forest.

Sighing in resignation, he turned back toward the wilderness he'd be calling home for the foreseeable future.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, Thalor wandered until he found a dying tree covered in mushrooms. It felt safe, familiar even. Climbing up, he settled on a sturdy branch about fifteen feet off the ground and closed his eyes.

Sleep didn't come quickly. Frustrated, he tapped into his fungal senses, letting his awareness drift through the spores around him. The sensation soothed him, and he finally drifted into unconsciousness.

The next morning surprised him. He didn't ache, despite the hard surface. He felt refreshed. Part of him worried about the calmness he felt in the face of his transformation, but he chalked it up to his new physiology and put the thought aside.

Climbing down, he considered his next move.

“I need shelter. But out of what?” His eyes landed on the mushrooms surrounding the tree. A grin spread across his face.

“Mushrooms,” he said with a chuckle.

Focusing, he pushed his fungal mass outward to consume the dead matter nearby. A white layer spread from him, slowly at first, then rapidly as it fed. Within fifteen minutes, the nearest tree had vanished into the mass.

He let it clear a twenty-by-twenty-foot space before halting the growth. With a deep breath, he shaped the fungus into walls seven feet high, hardening it until it felt like oak. The surface shifted and solidified like thousands of small strings being pulled together into a facsimile of polished wood.

For an entrance, he left the surface malleable, allowing himself to open a doorway anywhere along the wall. With his remaining biomass, he formed a simple roof supported by four posts.

Satisfied, he created a soft fungal mat to sleep on later.

Standing in the center of his new home, he smiled.

“Maybe this won't be so bad after all.” He gazed at his simple shelter and considered what came next. Finding a reliable food source, maybe some better defenses, and eventually figuring out a way for him to become normal once more.”

Usually, after building a shelter, the next step would be to find food and water. But since he had absorbed all the life in the area, he hadn't felt hungry or thirsty. He guessed that he could substitute food and water with fungal mass.

With no need for food or water, he pondered his next move. “I could go around and take some trees down to get more fungal mass. Or maybe I should go and find some different kinds of fungus. Hopefully, find some I haven't sensed yet.” Pondering these two choices, he decided to do both.

After settling on his goal, he set out from his compound. Walking through the forest, staying alert, he tried to sense any new fungi. It was hard for him to scan his environment and walk safely, but by taking it slow, he managed to avoid another ambush.

On his walk through the woods, he occasionally converted decaying matter into fungal mass, absorbing it so there were no remnants left behind. After a while, with no luck finding new fungi, he shifted his focus to absorbing decaying matter. He mostly turned fallen sticks and other discarded wood that wouldn't leave an obvious trail of his walk, just in case.

After a while of absorbing matter, he got a feeling of fullness, like his body hit a limit of what it could take in. Sighing and looking into the sky, he saw the sun was setting and decided to return home. He didn't want to navigate this maze of a forest in the dark when daylight was already challenging enough.

On his way home, he took a different path than the one he'd followed when leaving. As he walked, he sensed something before he saw it. The sensation felt similar to the mushroom monster that had chased him. Taking cover behind a tree, he focused on what he was feeling.

It wasn't nearly as large as the monster from yesterday and didn't have nearly as much fungus in it. Taking a deep breath, he crept toward the source of the sensation. Doing his best to stay hidden, he came upon the creature. It looked like another wolf, though this one appeared much healthier.

The only unusual thing about the wolf was the green mushroom sitting atop its head. Being closer to the source allowed him to get a better sense of the mushroom's purpose. Even without his fungal sense, it was clear the mushroom was controlling the wolf.

Thalor guessed the wolf had eaten something with enough spores to allow the fungus to grow. Focusing more closely, he could sense the strands of mycelium digging into the wolf's brain. While this disturbed him somewhat, he was mostly amazed that a mushroom could control an animal. He knew the mushroom wasn't intelligent and was just acting on instinct, which helped ease his discomfort.

Knowing there was no real danger, he stepped out from his hiding spot behind a fallen log. The wolf immediately locked onto him. Without hesitation, it charged forward, its movements driven entirely by the fungus with no sense of self-preservation.

When the wolf was about fifteen feet away, Thalor said, “Stop.”

Immediately, the wolf froze, its limbs seizing mid-motion. Its momentum carried it forward in a tumbling, uncontrolled roll. The wolf hadn't stopped because of the word itself but because Thalor had used his will on the fungus controlling the animal.

"A fine first addition to my collection," he chuckled as he reached down and touched the mushroom on the now-still wolf. Pushing his senses into the fungus, he added it to his internal library of fungi.

He felt a flicker of satisfaction but quickly realized the wolf wasn't breathing. Its chest was still. When he'd willed the fungus to stop, it had stopped everything—including the wolf's heart.

With a sigh, he commanded the fungus to try to restart the wolf's heart. He sensed the mushroom's frantic efforts, but it failed. The wolf was dead.

Shaking his head, he turned away. He could replicate the mushroom now, so he had no need for this one. As for the corpse, he hoped that any scavenger that tried to eat it might also become infected.

The walk back home was quiet and uneventful. When he arrived, he collapsed onto his mushroom mat, which, to his delight, felt like lying on clouds. Sighing in relief, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, wondering what tomorrow might bring.