Ichor Cell-Chapter 29: Dungeons and... cows?

By the time the last of the light disappeared below the horizon, they were already on the move.
The new cart glided along the road like a well-oiled machine compared to the bone rattling bumps and clanks of their previous contraption. The night air was crisp and dry, carrying the faint scent of grass and distant rain. Grenil sat comfortably in the back, resting on a blanket he had purchased, while Alex dragged it forwards and Duran walked beside it.
“So,” Alex said, glancing back the way they came, “how far do you think we should go before it’s enough?”
“As far as we can,” Grenil replied. “The more distance between us and that city—that whole region—the better.”
“Fair enough.” Alex sighed reluctantly. “I’m not in the mood to test how good their monster-hunting protocols are.”
“I’m sure anyone they send at this point will be more than capable of subduing you.” Duran commented. “They tested your limits quite thoroughly, unless you have more to show?”
“No, I don’t. And thanks, you’re really good for morale.”
“I try.”
Grenil chuckled softly, shaking his head. “If I’d known this was what travelling with you two would be like, I’d have stayed in my shop.”
Alex smirked. “No, you wouldn’t have.”
“…No,” Grenil admitted with a sad smile. “I suppose not.”
For a while, they travelled in companionable silence, the cart’s wheels thudding rhythmically against the uneven ground. The moon was full, casting silver light across the countryside. Crickets sang, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.
Then, Alex suddenly stopped.
“Hey, so, uh, I don’t want to alarm anyone.” He blinked, looking up at the sky. “But where did the sky go?”
Grenil stirred in the cart. “What?”
“The sky, the moon.” Alex turned in a slow circle. “They were right there. Now… they’re gone. And why are the trees doing that?”
His unease grew as he completed his rotation. The trees lining the forest road had somehow, without them noticing, grown dense enough that their trunks had melded together side by side, not allowing even the slightest gap to see beyond.
The strange, fused together trees had also woven their branches together into an impenetrable mass, replacing the sky with an endless stretch of interlocking wood. With a start, Alex realised they now stood in a woody tunnel that stretched in either direction, one with no visible end in sight.
“Damnit, I knew the nightmares meant something was coming.” Grenil muttered under his breath.
“What was that?” Alex glanced his way.
“Nothing.” The man shook his head, waving the question away.
Warily, Alex took a tentative step forward, the cart’s wheels creaking behind him. The air felt thick, like he was walking through water, every breath dragging a faint hum through his chest. His skin prickled—not from cold, but from something else. Something unseen.
He rubbed at his arms. “Does the air feel… weird to you guys? Like it’s buzzing?”
Grenil blinked and looked around. “Buzzing?”
“Yeah. It’s like…” Alex paused, searching for words. “Like there’s too much of it. The air. It’s heavier than it should be.”
Duran crouched, running his fingers along the dirt. “No wind. No insects either.”
Grenil didn’t answer immediately. He was staring at the trees, eyes narrowed. He’d lived long enough to hear all sorts of stories—some he personally experienced, others were drunken exaggerations or folklore at best. But this… this fit too many of them.
He took in the strange, fused trunks, the knotted branches that sealed the canopy, the way everything glowed faintly, letting them see despite a lack of light source.
“I’ve heard of places like this.” His expression darkened. “Never thought I’d see one.”
Alex glanced at him. “Heard of what?”
Grenil hesitated. “...A dungeon.”
Duran straightened, eyes flicking to the old man. “A what?”
“A dungeon,” Grenil repeated, voice low. “They form when too much mana gathers in one place—throws nature off balance. Space twists, gets wonky. Places like this… they don’t follow normal rules. I heard it’s usually because of some treasure or another attracting ambient mana to itself until it reaches a tipping point.” The old man gestured at Alex. “I’m guessing that’s the buzzing you feel.”
Alex looked around again, unease creeping up his spine. “And I’m assuming these things are meant to be pretty rare?”
“Of course.” Grenil chuckled. “It takes at least a Disaster level material to attract enough mana for dungeon formation. Those are not common.”
“You’re telling me we were unlucky enough to just stumble upon one as we’re walking
?
” The young man asked in disbelief.
Grenil gave a humourless chuckle. “More or less.”
“See?” Duran complained. “I told you we were gonna get messed with by Spite. You jinxed us.”
“My bad.” Alex scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, I guess there’s nothing we can do but keep moving forward? We’ll stumble out of here eventually. It can’t be
that
big.”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Did you not hear me?” Grenil rapped him on the back of the head. “Space acts strange in dungeons. We could wander around for days and not find the exit. Conversely, it could also be just around the corner.”
“Then how do we leave?”
Grenil rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “If it’s a dungeon, there’ll be something at the center. A core or artifact causing the mana buildup. From what I’ve heard, moving it or destroying it is usually enough to escape.”
“And if we don’t?”
As if to answer his question, an ominous clicking echoed out from behind them, like someone tapping their nails on a table—or a
very
large set of mandibles snapping shut. The sound bounced around the tunnel before slowly fading into the distance as silence returned.
“Then,” Grenil said quietly, “we wander around until something eats us, or we stumble upon an exit.”
“I see.” Alex looked back the way they came. “I suggest we move far,
far
away from whatever that was. Everyone in agreement?”
Surprisingly, no one argued.
Unfortunately for the trio, the dungeon did not consist of a single pathway leading them straight to the core.
They had walked for what felt like hours.
The air never changed—heavy, humming, almost
alive
. The forest walls pulsed faintly with faint blue light that seemed to shift whenever they looked away. As soon as they had turned their first corner, tunnel split, branching into four different paths, each one identical to the other.
The worst part was that it wasn’t consistent. The same path, if retraced, would sometimes branch out into three or four more paths, and sometimes loop back to where they started.
Alex had tried to just tear his way through the wood, but the stuff was stronger than steel; even his mana infused blows barely scratched it, and the damage healed in just a few seconds, leaving them with no choice but to walk.
After the fifth time they came across their own footprints, Alex groaned. “We’re getting nowhere.”
“I told you we should have gone right.” Duran argued, gesturing back the way they came.
"And why would right be any better than left?" Alex shot back.
"I just... have a gut feeling." Duran replied stubbornly, refusing to give.
"Right."
They stopped at one of the intersections, looking between the identical tunnels. “Which way this time?” Duran sent him a pointed look.
“Fine,” Alex conceded. “Let’s go right.”
“Finally.” The ghoul smiled, happily leading the way.
The tunnel wound on, narrowing slightly until the cart barely had enough room to manoeuvre. The faint glow from the wood grew dimmer, until only Alex’s eyes could pierce the gloom. The only sound was the soft creak of the cart and the whisper of their footsteps.
After another turn, the tunnel ended abruptly.
A wall of dark wood blocked the path, its surface smooth and seamless.
“Well,” Alex said dryly, “Isn’t that a surprise. I guess it really was my fault we kept ending up back where we started. You managed to straight up find a dead end.”
Duran frowned. “But I was certain that…”
“Oh, you were?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you’re certain then by all means, go ahea-”
The air
flexed.
No, it wasn’t even the air. It was as if space itself suddenly drew in a breath—pulling everything toward the wall in one long, silent inhale.
Then it
shattered.
The sound wasn’t like glass breaking. It wasn’t even a sound—more of a metaphysical sensation. A rift tore open through the wooden wall, spreading like a web of fractures until it split apart entirely, revealing a view that made all three men freeze.
Beyond the break lay another world.
The air on the other side shimmered with pastel hues, soft and warm. Rolling hills stretched beneath a cotton-candy sky, where the clouds looked painted, almost unreal. Even the light was wrong—gentle, golden, almost
solid.
The ground was covered in what looked like grass, except it rippled like velvet under a breeze that carried the faint smell of sugar.
Grenil’s mouth fell open. “What in all the gods’ names…”
Alex stared. “I think that’s… fluff.”
“Fluff?”
“Yeah. Like—fluff. Everything’s made of it.”
Duran just stared in open wonder.
Before any of them could speak again, a cloud covering the sun overhead moved. Sunlight from the strange world spilled through the tear, flooding the tunnel in bright, golden light. Alex hissed and stumbled back, shielding his face with one arm. Duran followed instantly, diving under the cart’s shadow as smoke began to curl faintly from his skin.
“Back, back, back!” Alex barked, dragging himself away.
The light
looked
pleasant—but it was deadly. Even a few seconds of exposure made his skin redden and blister before his regeneration caught up. He grit his teeth. “Okay, yeah, definitely
not
going that way.”
Duran nodded vigorously, squinting into the radiance. “Seconded. We’re not built for sunshine.”
They might have left it at that—turned back and found another route—if not for the noise that came next.
A soft, curious
moo.
From the glowing rift, something emerged. Or rather, something poked through.
It was a head—round and woolly, like a cow sculpted from cotton. Its fur rippled like stitched fabric, and its glassy black eyes blinked with innocent curiosity. A thread-like tongue flicked out as it sniffed the air, clearly unaware of how out of place it was.
Grenil blinked. “Aw, it’s-”
“Don’t say it,” Alex warned.
“-udderly adorable!”
He said it anyway.
The creature blinked once, tilting its head. Then, as it tried to push further through the tear—
The rift snapped shut.
No warning. No sound. Just a sudden, violent
whump
of pressure, and the creature’s head hit the ground with a dull thud.
Alex jumped in shock as pink blood sprayed across the floor, steaming faintly in the cool air. The world went dark again. The light from the other side vanished, and the tunnel plunged into shadow.
For a heartbeat, none of them moved.
Grenil exhaled shakily. “Well. I… suppose that’s one way to say hello.”
Alex swallowed hard, forcing a laugh. “Yeah. Good thing we didn’t try going through. I have no plans on finding out if I can survive bisection.”
“It… It was so cute.” Duran complained sadly, hesitantly walking over to the head and picking it up.
He turned the felted head over in his hands like a child examining a broken toy. “It’s so soft,” he noted sadly.
“Put that down!” Grenil snapped. “For all we know it’s a deadly poison.”
“I’m dead,” Duran said flatly. “I don’t think poison works on me.”
“Just… put the poor thing down.”
Alex rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This is not how I pictured my night going.” He glanced toward the spot where the rift had been, but there was nothing there. “Let’s move before—”
The air behind him shifted.
He didn’t hear it so much as
feel
it: a sudden rush of movement, the whisper of something cutting through the dark.
“Grenil—down!”
The old man ducked just as something slashed through the space where his throat had been. Alex spun, catching the blur with his arm. Pain detonated instantly.
The force of the impact tore into him, spikes punching through muscle like a knife through wet clay. He staggered back with a hiss, blood splattering across the floor.
Grenil shouted, scrambling away. Duran dropped the cow’s head and reached for the axe strapped to the cart, his face twisting into grim focus.
Alex’s vision steadied just in time to see their attacker jump back and anchor itself to the wall.
It wasn’t big—barely reaching chest height at most—but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. Its entire body was a weapon, bristling with jagged spines that jutted out from every joint, every limb, every inch of skin. In the few gaps that he could see, its green-gray flesh glistened wetly, stretched too tight, and its eyes were wide and black, reflecting the tunnel’s light back at him.
Its arms were even worse, each one studded with several long forward-facing spines that looked like a grotesque parody of a sword, each tip slick with Alex’s blood. It was like if a goblin and a porcupine had a baby, which was then raised by Wolverine.
It growled once, the sound like teeth grinding on stone.
Grenil raised his axe. “What’s happening? I can’t see-”
“Later!” Alex shouted, stepping forward when his arm finished healing. “I’m busy!”
Locking onto the nearest target, the creature growled once again and launched itself off the wall, its spines slicing for Alex’s throat.