Black Mould - Five - Growth as an Extant Form of Progress

Black Mould - Five - Growth as an Extant Form of Progress

Black Mould - Five - Growth as an Extant Form of ProgressThe source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

Momma, do I have to? I asked.

My parents were surprisingly fine with my diction and pronunciation. I dont think I spoke with the babish slurring and hesitancy of a baby. Really, I couldnt be bothered to pretend, and so far there hadnt been any issues with the speed at which I picked up words.

Maybe it was normal?

To be entirely honest, I had spent more time around spores than I did around babies in my previous life. I didnt exactly know how babies worked, and frankly I didnt care to learn.

Do you have to what? my mom asked. I was still figuring out the whole walking thing (I was getting there, its just that my head was way too big and it made me top-heavy so I tended to flop back and forth a lot.

My dad had found a small chair which he set next to his at our little table. It was a bit short, so I could only just see the table if I sat up as tall as I could. They still insisted on feeding me, even if I could manage on my own.

I dont want to go to... I paused. What was that old bitch called? Once I started paying attention to it, it was clear that my parents were giving her food to take care of me during the day, food that never ended up in my stomach.

I didnt want to end up some malnourished shrimp! I was short in my last life, and Id be damned if I was going to be short in this one.

I dont want to go, I settled on. I didnt know her name, or the words for that old bitch. Not yet, anyway.

My dad patted me on the head, then smiled and reassured me that it was going to be okay.

I pouted and protested some more, but it was clear that they were writing off my protests as the whining of a kid who didnt want to be away from their parents.

Tomorrow, my dad said. We will bring you to the-- he said a word at the end that I hadnt heard before.

Whats that? I asked.

A place where you can make friends, he said.

My moms head rose up, and she wiggled a ladle in my dads direction. They started arguing. My mom thought I was too young, and that it cost too much to have me watched over there, but it seemed as if my father had recently come upon a bit more money and was willing to spend it on me for this.

It... actually warmed my heart a little.

This family didnt have much. My parents clothes were threadbare and work-stained, our home was more of a hovel than anything else, built on the ground floor of a complex with dozens, maybe hundreds, of tiny homes all jammed in together. Our food was crap, and just plain insufficient to ward off the hunger, but still... they were trying so hard.

Whats wrong? my mom asked, she gently touched my cheek, then pressed her dried lips to my forehead. Its okay, love, its okay.

I nodded and kept my complaints to myself.

After breakfast, we all left the house. I walked over (all on my own, though I hung off my dads hand the entire way for balance, and he carried me up the steps) to the old ladys place.

My mom gave her a small sack with some food, which the old lady set inside her pantry, then my parents were off with some final goodbyes.

The two skills had grown a little bit, but so far none of their descriptions had changed. Did levelling up increase efficiency? Was the level just an indicator of the skill-holders proficiency? I had no idea what it all meant.

My current goal was to create a visible effect with my spent magic. The last few attempts had maybe strengthened the fungal body, but I had no way of seeing if that had worked or not.

Also, I needed to learn how to make my magic create specific effects. That did seem like one of the things that the skill was meant to be able to do.

I pushed more magic into the fungus, thinking mushroom-y thoughts.

A bead of sweat formed on my brow, and I pushed a bit harder. It felt almost like I was pushing against resistance, which was new.

Then, with a feeling like blowing air into a balloon, a mushroom appeared within the pantry.

I stared, my mana still ticking out of me, as it poked out of the muck, then grew up into a fat stem which unfolded into a teeny-tiny brown chanterelle.

Then my mana hit zero, and I felt myself suddenly go weak. It was as if I had just run a marathon on an empty stomach. My fingers shook, and I lost my grip on the mycelium, then I almost tipped over to my side.

[Congratulations! Your [Mushroom Magic {Rare}] Skill has reached level Four!]

[Congratulations! Your [Mycologic Growth {Uncommon}] Skill has reached level Three!]

It took a moment, but I managed to regain my senses. The gnawing hunger was back though.

I made a mental note not to hit zero mana again. It felt awful, and when your body felt awful, that wasnt a great sign about your overall health.

Still, I wasnt without possible nutrition...

Reaching out, I snapped the mushroom off at the base. There were a few other little stems sticking out of the compost. Given a few days, those would grow into proper mushrooms all on their own.

I examined the mushroom I held with my [Druid Sight], then let out a tiny gasp.

[Mana-Infused Brown Chanterelle] - Uncommon

An edible mushroom frequently picked and eaten by small mammals that has grown in a mana-heavy environment. Will restore some of the eaters vitality and mana.

I thought as I chewed on my self-made treat. I could make mushrooms that helped me. Maybe. It would come down to a basic bit of math. Did it take more mana to make a mana-infused mushroom than I got out of it? If so, was the mana-usage worth it?

If I hurt myself making these mushrooms, then was I essentially just burning myself out for tiny gains?

Then again, it was helping level my skills, skills which outright stated they would improve and become more efficient.

I felt a tiny kernel of warmth in my stomach, and for just a moment, the hunger left me.

I decided it might well be worth the risk.

***