I looked over the bed teeming full of mushrooms.

  “Well, you weren’t lying,” I said, grinning at Torra.

  “I told you! Yields are way up,” she said proudly.

  I turned to Hildan, who was being quiet despite the accomplishment. “That was a good insight, pop. Thanks.”

  He grunted an acknowledgment, and Torra and I exchanged a knowing look. Hildan didn’t take praise well. He also didn’t give it, much, so I made sure to fill the void.

  “And you did amazing as well, Torra. Thanks for all the help.”

  She puffed up at the praise. It was easier than ever to lift Torra’s spirits now that she was living in much more comfort and with less food instability, working a job she found more meaningful, to the point where I actually had to be careful she didn’t get too full of herself.

  Looking back at the growth of the mana amanita, though, they earned this pride. It wasn’t actually all that complicated; Hildan had pointed out that in the woods, mushrooms grew on decay, not pristine soil. While these magical mushrooms fed on mana, in large part, there was an organic element we had been missing with the first batches. We succeeded in cultivating fruiting bodies, but they depleted the provided mana so fast that we were questioning the viability of this operation in the long term.

  The trick, then, was in adding biomass, something which would rot—both in terms of organic and mana decomposition.

  Our first attempt didn’t go so well. Utilizing the same amount of goblin birthing pit clay powder, we accidentally kicked off a chain reaction that led to a birthing pit reforming and spat out a single goblin… before we came down on it with comical amounts of force and immediately obliterated the new producer. We had been on guard for just that sort of an event, so it was well in hand.

  The problem was, ultimately, we were trying to achieve a very similar process, one that aligned a bit too close with a regular goblin birthing pit. We wanted a bed, rather than a pit, which turned biomass into a mana-based object. The main difference was that, rather than goblins, we wanted mushrooms.

  Hildan and Torra had worked on the experimentation, dialing in the process until they finally got it right. In the end, the best solution was to exclude goblin pit powder entirely from the initial bed creation, using only logs as biomass and faerie dust treated soil, then soaking it and seeding it with mushroom spores. Once the mycelial network had formed throughout, exhausting the faerie dust’s mana, they then fertilized with supplemental goblin pit powder.

  That would immediately get to work attacking the dead biomass, rapidly causing mana decomposition, but couldn’t out-compete the already established mushrooms, which would absorb the mana faster than the birthing pit clay could self-replicate. The end result was a bed absolutely chock-full of fruiting bodies for a fairly minimal initial investment. It would continue producing until the logs within were consumed in full, after which it would deplete and go inert. The next step was to try it at a larger scale.

  “How big do you think we can scale this u—” I started to say, but Sir Polas burst into the room, breathing hard.

  “Lord Tovar!” he cried out.

  “What is it?” I asked, immediately on alert.

  I was prepared for anything. It could be more goblins, or a stronger fae monster appearing as a result of increased dungeon activity. The faerie breeding ecosystem could be collapsing, as a result of something unforeseen happening to the dungeon core, or from our actions in the grotto. Perhaps movement from Dulth, despite the treaty in place, or something else of note happening in Argadia.

  “It’s Lady Felris!” Polas said. “She’s gone into labor!”

  My thoughts screeched to a stop.

  “But… it’s a week early,” I managed to get out weakly.

  A chuckle came from behind me, and it took me a moment to realize it had come from Hildan.

  “Life has a way of sneaking past our expectations,” he grunted, then put his hand on my shoulder. “Go on. You can deal with this later.”

  I nodded, mutely, then followed Polas outside in a daze. The cold air hit me in the face as we stepped out of the warmer dungeon, and stirred me from my reverie. I shivered, pulling my jacket closed. It was almost hard to believe that another year had nearly passed since my wedding, but the baby proved that the calendar was more accurate than my perception of time’s march.

  By the time we were back at the manor, I had my wits about me once again.

  “Thank you, Sir Polas,” I said, excusing the man as I entered the house. It was warm inside, though different than the dungeon; we were burning extra firewood to beat back the drafty cold to keep Felris comfortable at the end of her pregnancy. And, now, for the coming baby.

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  I raced up the stairs towards the bedroom, where some of the maids were rushing to and fro with clean towels and boiled water. Slipping through the bustle, I made my way into the room, to find my wife working through her contractions, sweaty and uncomfortable.

  After the contraction, Felris looked up and spotted me, then scowled.

  “I’d really rather you not see me like this,” she said, reiterating the same argument we had been having for weeks now.

  I shook my head. “The baby’s coming early, so I’m definitely staying,” I stated, taking her hand. I had pushed my Will up to 25 over the past year in order to acquire the next level spell [Moderate Healing], so that I could ensure both my wife and child came out of this as healthy as possible. “Maybe if another healer had arrived in time…”

  “Fine,” Felris grunted, and began to squeeze my hand as another contraction hit.

  As far as labors went, it wasn’t the fastest or easiest, but it was far from the longest or hardest either. Both mother and child came out of it healthy, which was good; there were risks to healing too early, from my research, and the best case scenario was to avoid any healing until after the placenta was delivered.

  For the moment, though, all the pain and struggle was forgotten as the wail of a newborn rang out.

  “It’s a girl,” the midwife said, handing her over to Felris. She stared down at our daughter, flushed cheeks glowing, in rapturous awe. My own face threatened to split from the smile on it.

  “She’s beautiful,” Felris murmured, looking up at me with shining eyes.

  “She is,” I said, settling down next to them. My heart felt three sizes too big for my chest.

  We took the moment just existing together, the beginning of our new family, until Felris finished the birthing process. At that point, I was able to cast a [Moderate Healing] over her, and she sighed in relief.

  “I can’t believe you want me to do that four more times,” Felris said to me, her voice strengthened from the healing.

  “I said two or three. You’re the one who said four or five.”

  “You didn’t put up much of an argument about it.”

  I shrugged. “Who am I to argue? The world needs more of you in it.”

  She laughed lightly, and I leaned down to give her a kiss.

  “So. A daughter,” Felris said after I pulled away.

  “Yeah. Now that you’ve met her, are you still okay with the name?” I asked, and Felris nodded.

  It hadn’t been that hard to come up with a prefix for our children’s names. While there were quite a lot of role models to choose from, so much of my life came down to the decision of one man to take me in and support me. Like Nialdan itself, there was never much of a question that my children would share the first part of Somnial’s name.

  With a prefix chosen, the subsequent remainder of the name was the challenge. We could pass on one of our own name fragments, or something from our parents or grandparents, as was fairly common.

  But then, as she had predicted when we had spoken in private, the [Saint]’s healing stopped being able to hold back the tide of the king and queen’s aging. Once Elsa could no longer cast, it wasn’t long before she and Dargan both passed away.

  There had been a massive funeral which we had traveled back up to the capital to attend, to see off Queen and [Saint] Elsaria and Prince Consort and [Hero] Dargan, and the transition of power to King Yorgan.

  While I probably could have found a way to create a similar life for myself and marry Felris on my own, there was no doubt that we owed quite a lot to Elsa. Even if most of her machinations were in her own interest, or at least the interest of Argadia, it had all worked out very well for me in the process of seeing her will be done.

  So, to honor her—and, because politics were a thing, to hopefully ensure we remained in Yorgan’s good graces—we decided to name our first daughter, at least in part, after her.

  “Welcome to the world, Somaria.”

  * * *

  King Yorgan’s rule started well, but with new rulership came new troubles. Some countries wanted to renegotiate treaties and agreements, others began to make moves now that the [Hero], [Saint], and [Sage] were all gone. This was exacerbated by Yorgan growing slightly more power hungry, now that he was king, and for a while, tensions began to rise.

  All we could do in Nialdan was ensure the dungeon was producing, meet our deliverables and pay our taxes, and continue training up local guards and soldiers.

  Unfortunately for Yorgan, without the [Saint] to heal him, he wasn’t long for this world. The former champions all had a much longer than average lifespan on account of regular healing, boosted by a blessing, but life expectancy wasn’t really that great in this world. The king had healers, but he died before tensions hit a boiling point, and the crown was passed on to his son, Baylor.

  There had been some rumors about it, questioning whether or not Yorgan was assassinated or allowed to decline, in order to allow the kingdom’s rulership to change more swiftly, before war could break out. It was impossible to know either way.

  Whether or not the transition of power was entirely natural, Baylor dialed back any of Yorgan’s aggression and immediately made new deals and peace treaties, including a marriage arrangement with a princess of Dulth. With the champions all passed, there was now a ticking clock on when the next champions arose. When they did, it was in response to a new demon king. That could be generations away yet, but most reasonable leaders of the human kingdoms didn’t want to risk weakening the human race in advance of such a thing.

  The unreasonable leaders were dealt with by combined force.

  Nialdan simply continued to provide manpower, taxes, and magical goods from the dungeon. Mana amanita farming was going phenomenally, and we had figured out how to cultivate some of the other magical plants in the grotto. Additionally, and most importantly, we were steadily harvesting a sustainable amount of faerie dust to send back to the capital and help produce new mages for our country and our future conflict.

  I knew there wouldn’t be a demon king rising in my lifetime, as the admin had told me as much, but that wasn’t information I could share. If the threat of a demon king rising prevented war, it was best to keep it that way.

  Meanwhile, my own family continued to grow. Our daughter was joined by a son, then another, and then a second daughter, after which Felris and I agreed to stop.

  Time passed, as it was wont to do. I continued my training, facing the reality of [Metasurvival], but mostly, I lived in the moment. I raised my family, and appreciated my time with them. I loved my children deeply, and grew to love Felris more than ever.

  When Felton married Gustel, we began to welcome nieces and nephews to the world. Torra met a nice young lad, and more came. Fellius, Tomas, and even Tomellia went on to grow up and do the same.

  We also said goodbyes. I saw off Byron with a champion’s funeral, and mourned him while wishing him well in his next life. Gus and Odel were just as difficult to say goodbye too. Parents passed, children grew, and Nialdon changed. The years came and went, as time continued its infinite march forward.