Pale mouthparts broke through.
They closed around the torn edge of the plate.
Bite.
The opening widened.
The plate bent inward above the basin, dragging blue threads and pale tissue with it. A wet fragment struck the mineral lip beside my shell and bounced into the water.
The feeder was not looking for me.
It had found living fungus.
I happened to be attached to the same problem.
The yellow mineral point that had saved me during the final crossing now pressed against the side of my shell. If the plate dropped farther, the point would stop being a brace and become a wedge.
I pulled forward.
My foot responded slowly.
The front edge held.
The middle dragged.
The rear produced a thin, uneven trail.
Another bite shook the mound.
The mineral point shifted against my shell.
I twisted away from it and moved along the basin's inner lip. The route narrowed between the water and a sagging fungal layer. My left lower tentacle reported pressure without detail. The right reached far enough to find stone, then trembled.
Excellent navigation system.
A pale fragment fell ahead.
I stopped.
It struck the lip, slid across the wet stone, and disappeared into the basin.
I continued after it.
Several body lengths away, the inner lip widened into a mineral shelf. Most of it was dry. A shallow runnel crossed one side and emptied toward the basin. Above the runnel, a small fungal lip held back a trembling bead of seep water.
Testing area.
Emergency release system.
Possible grave.
Enough.
I reached the shelf as the plate behind me tore again.
Part of the feeder's head pressed through the opening.
Its mouthparts found another living layer and turned toward it.
Not me.
The route still brought it closer.
I moved to the driest part of the shelf and checked my Mana.
[Mana Points: 30/30]
The number had survived the acquisition.
Now I needed to spend it without becoming part of the floor.
I remembered the transformation.
Heat in the foot.
Pressure along the mantle.
The mucus glands tightening in narrow lines.
I focused on that sensation.
Nothing happened.
Ordinary mucus spread beneath me.
I tried again.
Heat.
Pressure.
Tighten.
Still ordinary.
'Useful ability.'
I shifted my attention to the front portion of my foot. Newly secreted mucus. The description had been specific.
Not all mucus.
Not mucus already beneath me.
New.
I contracted the front glands and tried to reproduce the internal pressure from the transformation.
Something tightened.
Too much.
The front third of my foot locked against the mineral shelf.
I attempted to move.
The rest of my body moved.
The front did not.
My shell swung backward.
Living tissue stretched between the fixed section and the weight behind it.
Pain shot through my foot.
I pulled harder.
The mantle tightened against the shell opening.
More pain.
The adhesive patch remained professionally committed.
I stopped.
My first active ability had glued me to the floor.
Personally offensive.
I focused on the patch.
Release.
Nothing.
Stop.
Nothing.
Normal mucus.
Nothing changed beneath the front of my foot.
The internal pressure did fade.
No more altered mucus formed.
The mucus already present remained adhesive.
Good distinction.
Terrible timing.
I checked my Mana.
[Mana Points: 29/30]
One point.
For that activation.
Possibly for the amount.
Possibly for the duration.
Possibly for something else I had failed to notice.
I knew only that this small mistake had cost one Mana Point.
Pulling backward was not working.
It was stretching my foot, dragging my mantle, and forcing moisture from tissue that already had very little to donate.
I needed to weaken an edge.
The bead of water above the runnel trembled beneath the fungal lip.
I extended my head toward it.
Too far.
My right lower tentacle touched the lip. My mouth did not.
I shifted my shell forward.
The fixed patch stretched.
Pain returned.
Slowly.
I angled my body instead of pulling straight back, moving the free rear portion around the attached front.
My head reached the thinnest edge of the fungal lip.
I scraped it with my radula.
The tissue resisted.
Scrape.
Pause.
Scrape again.
Behind me, the feeder bit through another layer.
The shelf vibrated.
A mineral fragment dropped near my shell and split.
I scraped faster.
The fungal edge frayed.
A dark line opened through it.
One warm droplet escaped.
It entered the runnel and passed beside the adhesive patch.
Wrong side.
I widened the cut.
The lip tore.
A thin trickle spilled into the groove.
Gravity carried it toward the basin.
I shifted my free body enough to place one exposed edge of the adhesive patch in its path.
Water touched the mucus.
Nothing happened.
Of course.
The trickle continued.
The exposed edge softened slowly.
Not dissolved.
Weakened.
The feeder pulled against the mound.
The ceiling buckled.
Water in the basin struck the lip below me and sent a smaller surge back through the runnel.
Too much flow would spread beneath my free foot and take away the grip I still had.
I stopped scraping.
The trickle remained narrow.
I waited.
Waiting while attached to the floor beside an approaching mouth had not been included in the reward description.
The wet edge began to lift when I contracted sideways.
There.
I stopped pulling backward.
I peeled.
One small section released.
Pain ran across it, but the tissue did not tear.
Ordinary mucus spread beneath the freed portion.
I shifted my shell toward that side, reducing the strain across the fixed section.
Peel.
Pause.
Ordinary mucus.
Shift.
The adhesive resisted each movement. Flowing water weakened only the exposed edge, and slowly.
Still water inside my body had not helped.
The damp air had not helped.
The water needed access.
Another section released.
Then another.
The final edge held long enough for the feeder's next bite to shake the shelf.
My shell slid.
I flattened the freed portion, braced with ordinary mucus, and peeled the last strip from the side.
The front of my foot came free.
I collapsed against the mineral surface.
No Health message appeared.
Pain did not require one.
Neither did humiliation.
I had rules.
Dry mineral produced extreme adhesion.
Only newly secreted mucus changed.
Stopping the ability stopped adding more.
It did not cancel what already existed.
Straight pulling was dangerous.
Peeling from one side was safer.
Flowing water gradually weakened exposed edges.
This activation cost one Mana Point.
Everything beyond that remained unknown.
The feeder widened the breach.
One front hook entered beneath the mound and struck stone.
I needed the ability again.
That fact felt unreasonable.
A narrow slick gap separated my shelf from a higher mineral ledge. Ordinary mucus might cross it if the mound remained still.
The mound had demonstrated no interest in that condition.
I chose the rear portion of my foot.
Most of my body remained on ordinary mucus.
The runnel touched the left edge of the position I selected. That gave me a planned release side.
I focused on the rear glands.
Heat.
Pressure.
A brief contraction.
The adhesive formed.
I stopped the altered secretion immediately.
[Mana Points: 28/30]
The rear of my foot held.
The rest remained movable.
Better.
A pale fungal plate broke above me.
I stretched across the slick gap.
My front edge reached the higher ledge.
The shell followed halfway.
The mound shook.
Without the anchor, the vibration would have shifted my entire body toward the basin.
The adhesive patch held.
My foot stretched.
My mantle tightened.
But I stayed in place.
Temporary bracing.
Not movement.
Not climbing.
A controlled refusal to slide.
I pulled the front half of my body onto the upper ledge, spread ordinary mucus, and transferred my weight forward.
Then I let the runnel reach the planned edge.
Water weakened it.
I peeled from that side.
The release still hurt.
It also worked.
I reached the upper shelf before the next fragment fell through the space I had occupied.
The pale plate struck the lower shelf and covered my first test site.
Good.
The laboratory had been decommissioned.
I rested long enough for the shaking in my right tentacle to lessen.
My Mana remained unchanged.
[Mana Points: 28/30]
No obvious regeneration.
Too slow to observe.
Sleep-dependent.
Food-dependent.
Environmental.
Nonexistent.
Another condition.
I had evidence for none of them.
My foot hurt in two different ways now.
The front remained irritated from the failed release.
The rear carried a deeper strain from holding my shell through the vibration.
Mana loss had not replaced physical cost.
It had joined it.
Still, something had changed.
My foot was no longer only damaged tissue dragging me through the cavern.
It was equipment.
Christopher Aspen had used tools around his body.
Crypto Asper had to use his body as the tool.
I was not sure whether that counted as adaptation or a threat.
The ceiling tore open.
A hooked structure struck the upper shelf.
Then another.
The feeder pulled its head through the damaged plate.
Its mouthparts opened, searched across the stone, and found the next continuation of living fungus.
The living strip ran along the edge of my shelf.