Our Family Has Fallen

Chapter 276: Chapter 214: Art is an Explosion_2

Just as Lance hesitated, a stumbling mushroom-headed creature lunged forward, shielding the Forest Wicked Woman. The greatsword cleaved it cleanly in two, but lost its momentum in the process.

Lance had no time to worry about anything else. He quickly raised his hand to cast Bless on Barton, refreshing his status. This allowed Barton to recover from the torment of the negative effects.

Lance saw more and more monsters closing in and knew he couldn’t delay. Enemy reinforcements seemed endless, while his own Spiritual Essence dwindled with each use. Worse, he had barely recovered from his previous exertions.

At that very moment, the Forest Wicked Woman began to use the corpses of the monsters before her as material for a strange spell.

Visibly, the already emaciated corpses seemed to be sucked dry by some unseen force. In the next second, a mushroom sprouted from each corpse and grew rapidly, reaching half a man’s height in mere moments.

The corpses, serving as nutrients, completely transformed into desiccated husks. This was beyond mere mummification; all remaining nourishment was drained away, leaving only dry bones.

The cap of this giant mushroom was honeycombed, similar to the red fungal cannons, but it possessed a thick, deep orange stem. It looked like a hybrid of the two types of fungi found in the parasites.

This new mushroom seemed alive. It immediately began to spew an unprecedented cloud of orange spores.

The unsettling part was what happened when these spores touched the corpses on the ground. The already desiccated bodies couldn’t withstand them and began to rapidly disintegrate, their flesh dissolving as if decomposition had been drastically accelerated.

Even their own kind couldn’t withstand it, let alone humans. Wouldn’t we be walking straight to our deaths?

What’s the point of fighting this? Lance made a snap decision to retreat upon seeing this.

”Retreat!”

Comically, it wasn’t just Lance’s group that fled. Even the swarming fungal parasites seemed unwilling to approach the orange cloud, scattering as if avoiding fire.

The Forest Wicked Woman, however, showed no signs of stopping. The recent battle had left an abundance of corpses, allowing her to summon more and more of the large mushrooms.

The terrifying part was that these mushrooms began spewing spores the moment they appeared, the orange cloud visibly expanding with horrifying speed.

Lance, noticing this, hurriedly used Sacrifice on the corpses they passed as they fled. After they had run a hundred meters, he looked back. A terrifying orange mist now enveloped the entire area.

He feared that by now, apart from the Forest Wicked Woman herself, nothing else could be alive in there.

”Ugh, what in the world is this stuff?”

”The corruption is spreading...”

”We have to stop it from expanding further, or this whole place will become a dead zone!”

Lance stared at the increasingly dense fog, his brow furrowed. He knew their attempt to assassinate the leader had failed... but there might still be a chance.

”Give me the torch; the rest of you, back off.”

Lance took the torch from Dismas. Before anyone could ask, he posed a question to them, ”Do you know what art is?”

Puzzled, they watched as Lance let out a wild laugh. He raised the torch high and flung it towards the spore cloud, shouting, ”Art is an explosion!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the torch arced through the air and landed on the spore cluster, instantly igniting a violent conflagration.

Flames erupted, soaring skyward. An instant later, a deafening explosion, hundreds of times louder than cannon fire, tore through the air, leaving everyone’s ears ringing. A powerful shockwave carrying a billowing heatwave slammed into them. Even Balistan staggered.

The moment Lance realized the spores were flammable, and that the enemy had created such a vast quantity of them, he had decided to give these monsters a little ’scientific’ shock.

Under the force of the dust explosion, fire and extreme heat annihilated everything. Within a hundred-meter radius of the blast’s center, no living creature remained standing. The giant fungi were either obliterated, incinerated, or simply cooked through, losing all activity.

If he had fought it conventionally, Lance might not have defeated it so quickly. In a way, the monster had helped accelerate its own demise.

They might have possessed some Supernatural Power, but even that couldn’t save them from the cleansing fire.

The others, recovering from their shock, didn’t understand the principles behind what they had just witnessed. They could only attribute such a spectacle to their Lord’s power.

They couldn’t help but marvel at their Lord’s strength, capable of resolving even such a dire situation so easily.

Lance still worried the monster might not be dead. But as he cautiously approached, he found its body scorched by the flames, resembling a desiccated corpse.

Because the explosion hadn’t occurred in an enclosed space, its power was somewhat diminished. Otherwise, an intact corpse would certainly not have remained.

He used his sword to flip over the White Bone Mask, revealing the bizarre sight beneath.

This creature had no head—or at least, not a head in any human sense. In its place was an indescribable, deformed mass, resembling a tattered, tumorous sac. From within this sac, the sharp beak of a bird protruded.

The entire thing looked as if disparate parts had been forcibly cobbled together and then fused by sheer force.

The grotesque sight made the others feel nauseous and deeply uneasy.

He sacrificed the monster. These wretched creatures offered little of value, but the abundant Spiritual Essence they contained was a significant replenishment for him.

The straw doll on the ground, however, was peculiar; it had somehow survived the blast intact.

The explosion had completely eradicated the spores from the air. As a result, the fungal parasites lost control and reverted to their base instincts. Some began to wander aimlessly, while those closer to Lance’s group started to attack.

”All of you, go back and organize the soldiers to put out the fire,” Lance instructed. ”Reynard, take a few horses and bring Boudica and the others back. I’ll handle the remaining monsters.”

The lingering lesser fiends were perfect for replenishing his consumed Spiritual Essence. He was accustomed to keeping his Spiritual Essence reserves full; depleting them always left him feeling as insecure as a rat whose winter stores had been plundered.

Lance then went on a rampage, his greatsword swinging like a lawnmower, reaping the mushrooms. He immediately sacrificed each one he felled.

These uncontrolled fungal parasites posed no real threat to him. After felling countless mushrooms, he finally replenished his spent Spiritual Essence, a sense of security washing over him at last.

However, many mushrooms still wandered about. Like a diligent old farmer, Lance continued his tireless harvest.

Deep within the Spore Forest, a witch continuously stirred a large cauldron, never ceasing her work. She intermittently tossed in indescribable, bizarre ingredients, and the churning liquid within the pot gradually began to emit a strange aura.

”HEE HEE HEE!” A strange cackle escaped her lips. The concoction seemed nearly ready, and her odd laughter betrayed her exceptionally good mood.

Stranger still, the witch turned and spoke to a large cocoon woven from emerald green thorns.

”The tribe is already annihilated. Why stubbornly persist here? Just give me the item, and I will let you join us, become one of us.

”Only I can help you survive the coming disaster. You have no idea about that apocalypse...

”Only I can show you the truth of the world...”

All sorts of bizarre words tumbled from her mouth, utterly incomprehensible to anyone.

The cocoon, however, remained perfectly still, offering no response.

Seeing no reaction, the witch scooped up some of the peculiar broth with her ladle and flung it onto the cocoon.

The instant the broth touched the cocoon, a SIZZLING sound erupted. Acrid yellow smoke billowed upwards as the emerald thorns immediately withered and turned yellow.

A strange power began to erode its Life Force, leaving visible corrosive marks on the cocoon’s surface.

But the thorny vines stirred. The withered sections broke off and fell away, while fresh green shoots sprouted from other parts, instantly mending the eroded gaps.

Relentlessly, the witch splashed more of the noxious broth onto the cocoon. Yet, in the blink of an eye, new thorns sprouted, restoring it completely.

Witnessing this only fueled her greed. ”That’s mine!” she shrieked.

The struggle continued, with no end in sight. Suddenly, a strange sensation made the witch pause. She whirled towards the direction of Hamlet, roaring, ”No! My child!”