Ashwalker

Chapter 36: Beneath the Fungi Sky



The wind screamed across the chasm like a wounded thing.

Kaiell stepped off the carrier's ramp with Theta-9, boots sinking into void-scorched gravel. The raid site stretched out before them—a ragged wound in the land, cliffs forming a jagged ring around a deep pit. Blue-black mist coiled upward in slow spirals, faintly bioluminescent. It almost looked peaceful.

It wasn't.

At the heart of the chasm, a tunnel entrance crouched behind thick overgrowth—veins of void-fungi wrapped tight around the stone, pulsing like muscle tissue with every silent breath of the Void.

"Void fungi," muttered Conzro beside him. The Kruger's voice was measured, calm. "Grows like it's dreaming. Eats light. Breathes poison."

Kaiell studied the fungal threads. They pulsed in rhythm, faint and wet. "Feels like it knows we're here," he said quietly.

"It does," said Re'mber, crouched over a drone's interface. "But we're not here to talk to it."

A ping lit up on the squad's comm-line.

[FIRE TEAMS — DEPLOY FUEL STRIKES. PURGE ENTRY POINT.]

Two Krugers stepped forward, shoulder-mounted canisters locking into place. The firebombs screamed as they launched, colliding with the fungi in a searing wave of flame. The tunnel shrieked—a sharp, rattling sound that was not entirely physical—as the fungal mass withered, blackened, and peeled away from the stone.

Ash clung to the air, and the tunnel stood exposed.

Damp. Sloped. Its surface carved with half-faded glyphs. Strange symbols, like prayers scratched into skin.

"Void cult architecture," Re'mber muttered. "Older than Kargal. Maybe older than history."

Kaiell tightened his grip on Nightfell. "Still active?"

"Doesn't need to be," she replied. "Shrines don't forget. They just wait."

They moved as one, descending into the slope.

The deeper they went, the colder the world became. Not the kind of cold that numbed flesh—but the kind that settled in your chest, and whispered doubts. The walls wept Viora residue, glimmering faintly in the dark like dying fireflies.

The path opened into a collapsed vestibule—bone tiles cracked and half-swallowed by time. Pillars once carved with prayers had split under shifting stone.

And at the far end, waiting beside the flickering light of a field beacon—three figures.

One stood robed in crimson, Viora glowing faintly at his fingertips. The other two were guards: armored, masked, and silent, twin blades sheathed across their backs. No insignia. No names.

Theta-9 raised weapons instinctively.

Kaiell's fingers hovered over his rifle.

But the man in red stepped forward calmly and lifted his hands.

"Friendly," he said. His voice was steady. Not loud, but somehow… undeniable.

"I am a preacher. Sanctioned under Commandant Veyra's initiative. My name is Halen. These two," he motioned to the silent guards, "are Rem and Sol. We're with you."

Kaiell didn't lower his weapon.

The preacher's eyes found him.

"You're new," he said softly. "Still fresh enough to be unsure. That's good. Doubt is a shield in places like this."

"Second deployment," Kaiell replied, rifle still halfway raised.

The preacher nodded. "Then your soul hasn't blistered yet."

Re'mber's voice came through Kaiell's comm: "Can we trust him?"

"No," Conzro said flatly. "But we don't have the time not to."

Halen smiled faintly. "Wise. The cult has entrenched itself deeper than we thought. Their rituals are active. The shrine is being fed. If we wait, the structure will become harder to cleanse. Or worse—open something."

Kaiell frowned. "What do you mean… cleanse?"

Halen's expression didn't change. "I'm a Viora conductor. My resonance is attuned to ritual frequencies. When we reach the heart of the site, I'll sever their connection. I'll break the flow feeding the shrine. And when that happens… they'll either flee—"

"—or explode," Sol finished quietly.

They descended.

Past doors melted half-shut by Viora heat. Past altars overgrown with fungus and bone, blood sigils humming beneath the ash. The further they moved, the harder it became to tell whether the place had been built by humans, or simply found by them and repurposed.

The deeper Kaiell went, the harder it became to breathe.

His interface blinked softly:

[Viora Pressure: ELEVATED][Cognitive Noise: FLUCTUATING]

Nightfell's presence pulsed faintly in his hand. A dull hum in his bones. Not warning. Not encouragement. Just… awareness.

The cultists were close.

And so were the gods they worshipped.


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