The swelling hunger had sparked a riot that continued, and just like that, Andrey spent his first night amidst the darkness.

In the end, those bodies constantly gnawing at food came to a halt, their supplies completely exhausted. The plague of Liches seemed like it would soon cease.

However, those stagnant Impostors actually made up only a small fraction of the academic gathering’s attendees.

Normally, most Liches had their own pursuits, their own tasks, even when it came to academic gatherings; they would only send a few or even just one representative. This meant that the number participating was just a small portion of Andrey’s total population.

Yet, there were always exceptions.

Some special clubs had no interest in burying themselves in research; their obsession was to seek pleasure in these sorts of social activities. They may not have turned out in full force, but a large majority did come.

This academic gathering was no exception.

In the corners Lyle didn’t notice, some individuals had brought their own chairs over.

Those who feared nothing more than a peaceful world, the most orthodox forces of chaos within Andrey.

From the literary society.

After the members of the literary society transformed into Impostors, even though they felt hunger, they did not halt their steps. As Raymond’s most frequently used punching bags, they didn’t have the guts to clamor for Raymond to cook for them.

So, while others were savoring the taste of food, the literary society slipped away with their new bodies, new hunger, silently.

They evaded the first outbreak of the Liches plague.

This wasn’t their luck; it was the misfortune of others.

Even as appetite began to dominate them, their forward march remained unchanged.

As the most active club in Andrey’s collective events, they knew all too well how to best satiate themselves.

The Impostors of the literary society, with crimson rings around their eyes, returned to their clubroom, passed through the layer of dreamlike bubbles, and entered their fairytale-like mushroom houses.

Yes, the literary society had its own unique food.

Because the literary society had Mr. Mycelium, the best mushroom caretaker, a member of the Salvation Association, and the overseer for Mr. Dark, their president.

"Welcome back, friends, how was the gathering? Fun?" Mr. Mycelium asked, looking at the companions who burst into his room without any surprise, for the members of the literary society were always ones for surprises.

The Impostors were convulsing all over, their necks that connected their heads twisting restlessly.

"Very interesting, Mr. Mycelium, but what comes next will be even more so." Throwing aside all reason, the frenzied Impostors pounced on Mr. Mycelium, plucking the fungal strains from his body and stuffing them into their own mouths.

A mutiny broke out within the literary society.

Squatting on the ground and feasting away, Mr. Mycelium, now stripped of his fungal fronds, watched the Impostors chewing on mushrooms without any anger or fear. In fact, those soulful flames in his eyes held a kind of eager anticipation.

"Food... delicious... delicious?"

The Impostors, now satisfied from their meal, didn’t notice that their flesh was withering, and from their greenish, spotted pores, pale green mycelium began to peek out.

In the end, we couldn’t come to the conclusion whether it was the Impostors who had consumed the mushrooms or the mushrooms that had consumed the Impostors.

Regardless, what emerged from the room afterward were Mushroom People, bodies fused with flesh covered in fungal caps and spewing spores.

Like zombies, they stretched out their arms that lay between animal and fungus, their pallid cheeks embedded onto rigid fungal stalks, continually wailing.

"Food... feed... propagate... reproduce..." The fatal spores and hungry flesh merged into one, turning eating, spreading, and reproducing into a single act.

A new Mushroom Legion appeared, and their numbers did not decrease. Spores and Mushroom Flesh formed a symbiotic relationship, aiming to spread the spores throughout Andrey. Even the Liches couldn’t resist, as the Mushroom Flesh took root and sprouted on their bones, embedding the desire to feed and reproduce deep into the flames of their souls.

The bioengineered army of the Mushroom People represented the second wave of disaster, characterized by gluttony.

The grand Mushroom People’s army, mightier than any scattered Impostors, approached the bubble, on the verge of leaving the cage that bound them.

The balance in Andrey was in jeopardy, and it was then that the weight that decided everything made its move.

Darkness and Void Power formed a net that enveloped them.

"To turn my subordinates into such monsters, Mycelium, you have truly angered me."

Mr. Dark stood in front of the bubble, like a haughty king in a play, unleashing the seal. The Void Power enveloped the Mushroom Legion in the abyss.

Mr. Dark’s bandaged hand pointed with precision, singling out the Mycelium from the grandiose Mushroom People.

"Before my judgment befalls, do you have any last words?"

Under the might of Mr. Dark, the Mushroom People halted in their tracks. The annihilating power of the Void could suppress the activity of the spores, and it seemed the Literary Club’s penchant for melodramatic performance had become an instinct, an instinct that transcended desire.

The Mycelium opened its mouth.

"Mr. Dark, you misunderstand me. I’ve done nothing to my friends; they are still your subordinates. It’s just a slight change in their appearance, and in fact, they are more obedient to you than ever."

As he said, it was perhaps an innate fear of Mr. Dark among the spores or perhaps the acting instincts of the Literary Club member still lingered. The plump Mushroom People, astonishingly, knelt in unison before Mr. Dark, murmuring.

"Lord of the Eternal Night, end of the world, our Dark Demon God, please accept our worship!"

Mr. Dark was stunned; these fellows seemed even more obedient than usual. Usually, they would cheat and circumvent, and most importantly, when they met Raymond, these fellows would scatter like mice seeing a cat. It wasn’t that their presence was of much help to him, but at least some verbal support would be nice.

Seeing the Mushroom People worshiping him, Mr. Dark fell into a dilemma. Were they really of his Literary Club?

"Gentlemen, I now intend to extinguish the Church of Holy Light. Any objections?"

The Mushroom Legion rose with a thunderous noise, stomping in unison.

"We are the vanguard of Darkness! The Holy Light shall fall!" 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Mr. Dark was on the verge of crying tears of joy.

"Mycelium! I misjudged you! These are my people, no doubt about it, true members of the Literary Club as good as gold!"

"Dark Mushroom Legion!!!!!!"

"In the name of the Dark Demon God!!!!!"

"Follow me, charge! Attack the Church of Holy Light!!!!!!"

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!"

The Warden had betrayed them, he was escaping with the prisoners!!!!

The flood of Darkness, along with the night, was rushing over all of Andrey, sparing no Liches.

They stood united, steadfast and unyielding.

Sworn to extinguish that last flicker of light.