The nearest plate moved.
Its lower edge slid toward me.
I pressed my shell against the mineral ridge beside the mound and pulled the front of my foot inward.
The plate passed over the place my head had occupied.
Close enough for the damp underside to brush my upper tentacles.
Heavy.
Soft enough to bend.
Still heavy.
The edge struck the ridge and stopped.
For one second, my foot remained trapped between dark tissue and stone.
Pain ran across the irritated surface.
I twisted sideways, used the ridge against my shell, and pulled free before the plate settled any farther.
Behind me, the reactive field waited.
Returning to it would have been possible.
So was drowning.
Possibility had become an unhelpful category.
The plate lifted again.
Not much.
Enough.
Warm air escaped through the opening beneath it.
I extended my right lower tentacle as far as exhaustion allowed.
Heat.
Moisture.
Stone.
The gap continued inward.
I could not tell whether the movement came from pressure below, water swelling the tissue, a distant pulse, or the feeder tearing through another connected section.
I could tell that the opening existed.
That was sufficient.
I entered before the plate changed its mind.
Not that it had one.
Probably.
The outer mound became a ceiling above my shell.
Overlapping plates pressed together at different angles. Some were dark and flexible. Others were pale, thick, and soft enough to sag between harder layers. Blue threads ran through several of them, brightening briefly whenever vibration passed through the structure.
They did not all look like the same tissue.
That weakened the idea that the mound was one enlarged growth.
Several organisms could have accumulated around the same resource.
Or one organism could produce different tissues.
Or many organisms could have grown over something older.
A feeding concentration.
A pressure structure.
A reproductive body.
A defensive layer.
A biological argument with no witnesses.
I had options.
Evidence remained unavailable.
The stone beneath me sloped downward.
Natural cracks crossed it in uneven lines. White and yellow mineral deposits thickened along their edges. Warm moisture gathered there, then travelled inward in narrow films.
The mound might have formed around a reliable water source.
That theory improved when I followed the first crack.
It weakened when the crack disappeared beneath a dark layer that continued deeper than the water.
Good.
A theory should suffer before I trusted it.
I pushed through a curtain of dead gray tissue.
It tore against my shell.
The opening beyond it widened.
Warm water collected in a shallow basin beneath the mound.
Shallow for the cavern.
Deep enough to cover me several times over.
The basin was irregular, shaped by natural cracks and mineral buildup. One overflow groove carried a steady stream away beneath a pale fungal shelf. A smaller side groove took only a thin film. Several other depressions were blocked by mineral crust, dead tissue, or living growth pressed tightly against the stone.
Fungus crowded every wet edge.
Pale filaments drank from the cracks.
Dark layers curved close to the warmest seep.
Blue light passed through both and vanished beneath the overlapping plates.
The marker hovered beyond the basin.
[Distance: 0.76 meters]
Seventy-six centimetres.
The System had reduced my entire journey to a number smaller than the length of a human arm.
I hated accuracy.
The warm moisture against my foot felt good.
That made it suspicious.
I touched a thin film with my right lower tentacle.
No immediate numbness.
I waited.
Still nothing.
I lowered the edge of my foot into it.
Warmth spread through the irritated tissue.
Pain remained.
The dryness eased.
I waited longer.
No contraction.
No visible discoloration.
No System warning.
None of those proved the water was safe.
They only proved it had not killed me quickly.
I tasted one droplet.
Mineral-heavy.
Slightly bitter.
Not burning.
I swallowed another.
Then several more.
My body absorbed the moisture slowly. Mucus began forming more evenly beneath the front of my foot. The right lower tentacle extended a little farther.
The left regained pressure without detail.
Better.
Not recovered.
Exhaustion remained settled through the rest of me like an administrative decision.
[Health Points: 1/1]
[Mana Points: 30/30]
Warm water had improved hydration.
It had not changed any number the System displayed.
Fair.
The route to the marker ran along the basin's inner lip.
Dead tissue blocked the first gap.
I bit into it.
Omnivore made it digestible.
It did not improve the flavor.
The tissue was bitter, stringy, and only damp enough to keep from crumbling. I ate through a hole larger than my head, pushed the remaining sheet aside, and dragged myself through.
The food reduced the empty pull beneath my shell.
It did not restore strength.
Nutrition had arrived.
Efficiency had not.
The next section narrowed between a dark living layer and a mineral projection.
I pressed my shell against the mineral side and moved sideways.
The dark layer touched the edge of my foot.
Numbness spread through the contact point.
I pulled away.
The sensation faded slowly.
Living tissue remained a problem.
Stone remained stone.
Reliable.
Uncomfortable.
Beautiful.
I followed the mineral ridge until it ended above the basin.
The marked position lay on the other side of a slick slope.
Water passed over the stone in a thin sheet before dropping into the deeper center.
I tested the slope with my right lower tentacle.
Smooth mineral.
Almost no texture.
My improved mucus might hold.
That was my first theory.
I placed the front edge of my foot on the slope.
It held.
I moved farther.
My shell shifted downhill.
The rear of my foot slipped.
Water caught the loose edge and pulled.
I contracted hard.
The movement lifted my front instead of moving me forward.
My shell swung toward the basin.
Wrong angle.
I pulled backward until the mineral ridge caught the outer curve of my shell.
The water continued beneath me.
Another few centimetres and I would have entered the basin shell first.
Swimming had not appeared on my character sheet.
I withdrew.
Direct crossing was possible.
It was also stupid.
A narrow mineral projection extended across part of the slope below me. Not enough to form a path. Enough to brace against.
I tore a strip of dead fungus from the opening behind me and laid it across the wet stone.
The fragment absorbed water immediately.
Its lower surface clung to the slope.
I pressed it with one tentacle.
It moved less than my foot had.
A temporary traction layer.
Maybe.
I waited until the overflow weakened between two surges from the seep.
Then I approached at an angle.
Front of foot onto the dead fragment.
Shell against the upper mineral ridge.
Contract.
Pause.
Shift the shell.
Contract again.
Water pulled at my lower edge.
The fragment slid.
I pressed harder and moved before it could fold beneath me.
Halfway.
The basin opened below.
Warm water reflected blue light from the mound.
Beautiful.
Deep.
Very capable of killing me.
A vibration passed through the stone.
The feeder had reached the mound.
The outer layers shook.
Something tore behind me.
Blue threads flashed through the ceiling.
A fragment fell into the basin and disappeared beneath the surface.
The water surged over the slope.
My lower edge slipped.
The shell rolled against the mineral projection.
I wedged it there.
Pain spread beneath my foot.
The dead fragment tore.
I remained above the water by the width of one thin strip of tissue and an unreasonable amount of determination.
The feeder bit again.
Not at me.
Into the same mound I had entered.
That distinction had excellent academic value.
I changed my angle.
Instead of pulling directly toward the marker, I crawled upward along the projection until most of my shell rested against it. Then I crossed the remaining slope diagonally.
One contraction.
Grip failed at the rear.
Second.
Water reached the front edge of my foot.
Third.
My left lower tentacle dragged uselessly against stone.
Fourth.
I reached a dry mineral patch and collapsed onto it.
[Distance: 0.19 meters]
Nineteen centimetres.
The first sign-in had taught me that reaching the destination only produced another decision.
Four rewards.
One choice.
No guarantee that any of them would solve the immediate problem.
The System did not measure pain, risk, time, or effort.
Only position.
I looked at the final stretch.
The marker rested beside the inner lip beneath two sagging fungal layers.
The nearest was dead along one edge.
The layer above it was dark and faintly luminous.
Behind me, the feeder tore deeper into the mound.
The ceiling shifted.
I ate through the dead edge.
Bitter tissue filled my mouth.
A pale fragment dropped across my shell.
I pushed it aside.
[Distance: 0.08 meters]
The inner lip narrowed.
Water moved beneath it.
I pressed my shell against a yellow mineral point and extended the front of my foot.
Mucus held unevenly.
The mound shook.
The mineral point cut into the curve of my shell but stopped me from sliding.
[Distance: 0.02 meters]
Two centimetres.
Human distance.
Snail problem.
The dark layer above me tightened.
Blue light travelled through it.
The outer plate shifted downward.
I pulled.
My rear foot slipped.
Water caught it.
The shell held against the mineral point.
I contracted again.
The front of my foot crossed the marker.
[Distance: 0 meters]
[Sign-In Successful.]
[Location: Fungal Cavern.]
[Please select one reward.]