Chapter 46: Wildvine and the Giant Fungal Brain
"Wildvine!" Ben yelled, his voice echoing from his newly transformed, plant-like vocal cords. He waved a leafy arm, but Swampfire and Gwen had already strolled casually down the dark, damp tunnel. "Hey! Wait up for me!"
Wildvine quickly scrambled after them.
Swampfire didn't even break his stride. Without so much as a backward glance, he lazily raised a hand. A concentrated burst of intense, roaring fire erupted from his palm, instantly incinerating a cluster of thick, writhing fungal hyphae that had darted out from the shadows to ambush them. The ash fluttered to the cave floor, and Swampfire just kept walking, his posture radiating absolute indifference.
Gwen and Wildvine kept their eyes peeled, scanning the glowing, spore-filled cavern walls. Yet, neither felt a drop of genuine anxiety. Walking behind their cousin was like walking behind an impenetrable fortress. Klein's sheer, overpowered presence offered a ridiculous amount of security.
They stepped through the smoldering, gaping hole Swampfire had blasted through the fungal wall. The tunnel sloped downward, the air growing thick and humid, smelling strongly of rot and damp earth. Finally, the narrow passage opened up into a massive, cavernous underground chamber. Resting right in the dead center of the space was a colossal, irregularly shaped sphere. It pulsed with a sickly, pinkish-purple bioluminescence, its surface covered in deep ridges and folds. It looked exactly like a gigantic, grotesque brain.
"Looks like we found the ugly guy in charge." Wildvine leaned forward, his single eye blinking in morbid curiosity at the massive, pulsating demon brain.
'As fellow flora, why do you aid these pathetic humans?'
A deep, echoing voice suddenly reverberated directly inside Wildvine's head. He flinched, his vines bristling as he whipped his head around, scanning the empty cavern. "Whoa, did you guys hear that?"
"What's wrong with you now, Dweeb?" Gwen shot him a weird look, crossing her arms. "There's no sound down here except your loud mouth."
"She can't hear it, Ben." Swampfire lifted a flaming finger, pointing directly at the massive, fleshy mass in the center of the room. "It's telepathy. You're not a plant, so you aren't tuned into the frequency."
The giant brain pulsed, its sickly purple light flaring. 'You heard me?'Swampfire crossed his arms, his fiery shoulders shrugging. "Loud and clear."'Then answer me!'the brain roared telepathically, the mental shockwave making the surrounding spores vibrate.'Why do you betray your own kind?!'"Eh. Don't really feel like explaining it." Swampfire replied, his tone dripping with lazy apathy.'Then you will rot with them!'
The cavern erupted into motion. Dozens of thick, whip-like hyphae shot out from the walls and ceiling, hurtling straight toward Swampfire with lethal intent. But just inches from his face, the deadly vines jerked to a violent halt. Swampfire stood perfectly still, his glowing green eyes narrowing slightly as he tapped into his own innate chlorokinesis, directly challenging the giant brain for dominance over the fungal network.
The massive vines trembled violently in mid-air, caught in a brutal tug-of-war. The conflicting commands—one ordering them to attack, the other ordering them to freeze—created a complete biological paradox. Unable to process the contradictory signals, the fungal network essentially short-circuited, going completely limp and dropping to the cavern floor like dead snakes.
Gwen watched the giant brain spasm and twitch wildly, its purple glow flickering like a broken neon sign. She tilted her head, looking at Swampfire. "Uh... what exactly is wrong with it?"
"Probably ate something bad. Who knows." Swampfire replied, his voice perfectly deadpan.
The giant brain, however, was far from calm. Its absolute control over the underground colony had been effortlessly hijacked. It possessed no physical mobility of its own, relying entirely on its fungal limbs. Trapped, paralyzed, and forced to endure Swampfire's utterly dismissive arrogance, the creature was pushed to the absolute brink of an aneurysm.
'I... you... you miserable... damn you...!' The telepathic voice stuttered, practically choking on its own rage.
Swampfire acted as if the furious telepathic screaming was nothing more than elevator music. He turned his back on the massive brain and strolled casually over to Wildvine. Reaching out, he tapped the glowing hourglass symbol on his cousin's chest. A flash of red light illuminated the cavern, and Wildvine instantly reverted back into a very confused Ben.
"Ben," Swampfire said, holding out a hand. "This guy's got a serious stomach ache. Lend me the medicine."
Ben just stared at him, his mouth slightly open. 'Cousin, I was a plant two seconds ago. I heard every curse word that thing just screamed at you.'
Ignoring Ben's silent judgment, Swampfire simply reached into the boy's pocket and fished out the small bottle of Athlete's Foot Ointment. He tossed it lightly in his palm, turned around, and sauntered back toward the paralyzed brain.
The brain's purple light pulsed erratically as Swampfire approached. '...What are you doing? What is that?'
"Don't mention it. Just doing my part for the community." Swampfire popped the cap off the anti-fungal powder. With a flick of his wrist, he sprinkled a tiny dusting of the white powder directly onto the brain's fleshy surface.
The reaction was instantaneous and violent. The moment the powder made contact, the pinkish-purple flesh began to sizzle and melt, oozing thick, foul-smelling yellow mucus as the tissue rapidly shriveled.
'NO! Get away! Stay back!' the creature shrieked in Swampfire's mind, pure terror replacing its previous rage.
"Relax," Swampfire said, his tone adopting the soothing cadence of a terrible doctor. "You might feel a slight burning sensation. Dizziness is completely normal. You'll feel much better once the coma sets in."
He began a slow, leisurely lap around the massive brain, casually shaking the bottle like he was seasoning a giant steak. A dash here, a sprinkle there. He completely ignored the agonizing, telepathic screams echoing in his head, continuing his work until the massive creature stopped twitching, its bioluminescence fading into a dull, lifeless gray.
Swampfire paused, tilting his head. Just to be absolutely sure the treatment was thorough, he reached out, grabbed a thick fold of the deadened tissue, and ripped a deep fissure right into the center of the mass. He then shoved the entire remaining bottle of Athlete's Foot Ointment deep inside the wound.
He turned his head slightly, glancing back at his cousins. "Run."
The moment the bottle was lodged inside, Swampfire bolted. He sprinted back up the tunnel with the chaotic energy of a kid who had just lit a firecracker on a neighbor's porch. Gwen didn't even question it. She immediately summoned a platform of pink mana and flew after him at top speed.
"Wait, what's going on? Why are we—" Ben blinked, watching Swampfire and Gwen disappear down the tunnel. He slowly turned his head back toward the giant brain. "Oh my god."
The massive fungal sphere violently expanded, its surface bubbling uncontrollably before detonating in a massive, deafening explosion. A tidal wave of putrid, yellow mucus erupted outward like a geyser, completely flooding the cavern.
...
"Uh... Ben? What exactly happened to you?"
Back at the campsite, Grandpa Max had watched the aggressive mushroom creatures suddenly wither and collapse into piles of harmless dust. He knew right then that his grandkids had successfully handled the root of the problem. Klein and Gwen strolling out of the woods looking completely spotless only confirmed it. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Ben trudging out of the tree line a few moments later.
Ben was completely drenched from head to toe in thick, viscous yellow slime. He looked like a walking booger, and he smelled like a dumpster left out in the summer sun.
Hearing Max's question, and feeling the sheer, unadulterated resentment radiating from Ben's glare, Klein immediately took the offensive.
He pointed an accusatory finger at Ben, clutching his own chest with his free hand as if deeply wounded. "Do you really have that little faith in me?" Klein cried out, his voice thick with fake agony. "I looked you right in the eye and told you to run! Why didn't you trust me, Ben?!"
Ben froze, completely derailed by the sudden guilt trip. He blinked, the slime dripping off his nose as he mentally replayed the scene. Wait... Cousin did tell him to run. He just stood there like an idiot instead of moving. Seeing the deep disappointment on Klein's face, Ben felt a sudden wave of remorse. He lowered his head, staring at his slime-covered shoes in deep shame.
"I'm sorry, Klein," Ben mumbled, letting Grandpa Max guide him toward the Rustbucket's outdoor shower attachment.
As soon as Ben's back was turned, the corners of Klein's mouth twitched upward into a wicked, satisfied smirk. Gwen watched the entire masterful manipulation unfold. She knew exactly what Klein was doing, but she just sighed and kept her mouth shut. She was always going to take her cousin's side anyway. Ben would just have to suffer a little character-building.
"Um... excuse me?" Gilbert's voice broke the silence. He and the twins, Andy and Mandy, cautiously approached the group. Gilbert pointed a shaky finger at the massive, towering fungal stalks that still surrounded the camp. The giant brain was dead, but the structural fungi were still very much intact and looming over them. "What exactly are we supposed to do about these?"
Klein glanced at the towering mushrooms, then turned to the campers. "Where's the rest of that foot medicine you guys bought?"
"It's inside the cabin," Mandy replied quickly, pointing toward the wooden structure.
Without another word, Klein walked into the cabin. He swung open the storage cabinet, his eyes scanning the shelves. Sitting right there were dozens of unopened bottles of Athlete's Foot Ointment. He nodded in quiet satisfaction. Reaching down, he tapped the dial of his Another Omnitrix.
Outside, Gilbert and the twins jumped as a brilliant flash of faint blue light illuminated the cabin windows. A second later, the front door was kicked open. Striding out was a humanoid, reptilian creature that looked like a bipedal pterodactyl, wearing a jetpack and carrying a massive armful of foot powder bottles. Astrodactyl let out a sharp squawk, his energy whips crackling to life.
"I gotta say," Gilbert muttered, his eyes wide as he watched the alien pterodactyl take to the skies, doing strafing runs over the camp and aggressively crop-dusting the giant mushrooms with anti-fungal powder. "This has to be the most fantastical, insane thing I have ever experienced in my entire life. I am definitely booking this camp again next year!"
Standing beside him, Andy and Mandy watched the bizarre spectacle unfold, both of them nodding in absolute, stunned agreement.
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