The harvester proved to be shockingly pleasant company. He -- for he seemed far too human-like to continue using “it,” and I’d arbitrarily decided he was a he -- was an easygoing fellow. Much like myself these days, he was rather adept at holding a comfortable silence. What more could I ask for?

  As it turned out, the answer was skill levels. Long, long ago, in what felt like another lifetime by now, I’d passed the first Intelligence threshold back in Drawgin, triggering an evolution of my God’s Mind ability. The evolution had left me with a new ability, Watch and Learn, which allowed me to slowly pick up and level skills by watching others perform them. It wasn’t always my favorite ability given that I’d gained a level in Demonic Summoning because of it, but on the flip side, it was the reason I’d first learned Construction, too.

  The ability had largely sat unused since I’d arrived in the dungeon, as neither Cal nor Verin had many relevant skills for me to pilfer. Given a front row seat to watch a skilled harvester in action, however, I was in a perfect position to learn.

  Case in point, the jungling crouched down to where a clump of leafy plants growing close to the ground. Each one had the smallest, thinnest of stems which extended from the earth for only a few millimeters at best. Three spiny, serrated leaves then split off from the stem equidistantly, forming a sea of tiny triangles underfoot.

  Without a care in the world, the harvester plucked off a twig from its own body, extending it down to the plants below. A gentle tap on one of their stems was all it took. With blinding speed, the three leaves snapped shut, clamping down on the twig. Slowly, the jungling pulled upwards, one hand on the twig, one hand at the base of the stem. An ugly red tuber soon followed, which I immediately identified.

  Paralytic Snaproot

  This seemingly innocuous plant snaps shut the moment anything small enough crawls onto it. Its leaves are covered in a mild paralytic, sufficient for most insects, while their sharp spines carry a more intense variant for toads and other medium-sized creatures unlucky enough to get ensnared. If one attempts to harvest this plant while the trap is open, the leaves will snap downwards, attempting to cut the harvester’s fingers.

  A few more lines detailed the root’s possible uses, which were -- unsurprisingly -- mostly to make paralysis poisons.

  The harvester collected a good dozen snaproots this way, and it was midway through his efforts that I received the desired notification.

  Watch and Learn activated!

  Herbalism has reached level 15!

  On several occasions, our meandering path through the jungle brought us to other harvesters going about their own business. Much like the first, they paid us no mind, content to spend their time diligently harvesting.

  Perhaps a bit too diligently, in fairness. Our conscripted tour guide never seemed to run out of steam, and for a time, I worried we would eventually have to bid him farewell when we next needed to sleep.

  Thankfully, while his stamina seemed endless, his carrying capacity was another thing entirely. His pouch slowly went from half-filled to full to practically bursting, and only when it looked like it was about to break apart did he cease his harvesting and walk off.

  Part of me considered snagging some of his hard-earned bounty, as I could doubtless make good use of the many interesting reagents he’d collected. I wasn’t sure he would mind, or if he could mind, but still, it felt a tad too mean. Whether or not he’d meant to, he’d been a pleasant walking companion and a good teacher. Robbing him now was no way to repay him.

  Plus, even if he kept letting us walk with him, what if he went back out to harvest more? I was growing curious to see exactly where he would be dropping off his stash.

  Only an hour later, I got my wish. After following a rugged and hostile path that we likely would have never found otherwise, we met a wall of vines so thick that I was convinced we’d run into the region’s border again.

  A quick tap from the jungling disabused me of that notion, as the vines parted at his touch. We hurried through the opening lest it close behind him. The very moment we did so, though, we froze.

  Spread out before us was a scene far beyond anything we’d imagined.

  In a way, I’d almost been right about being on the region’s border. The space before us had no trees, which allowed me to see for several kilometers out. In the distance, we spotted the same wall of vines we’d encountered at the start of our quest, far more imposing now that it was out in the open. It shot up into the sky before curving towards us, neatly cutting off any hope of escaping by air.

  Somehow, the verdant barrier was the least exciting aspect of our surroundings, though.

  Jutting out of the vine wall was one half of a towering pyramid.

  Rather than having its sides be entirely smooth, the looming structure was built in steps, with tall concentric squares of worn gray rock stacked atop one another. Each layer was outfitted with all manner of statues, engravings, and artistic flourishes, though the trials of time had worn many of them away. Thick blankets of moss clung to the structure from top to bottom, only adding to its ancient aura.

  Fairly certain of what I was looking at, I pointed at the pyramid, uttering a single word: “Exit.” It was a building. It was embedded in the vine wall. Presumably, we were meant to enter it from our side. If we exited from the opposite end, we’d be past the vines and into a brand new biome.

  Evidently, the system seemed to agree.

  Quest Updated: You have discovered the exit. Now all that remains is to use it.

  Despite the ease with which we’d navigated through the jungle so far, somehow, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be as easy as just walking in and out. In some sense, that was honestly fine -- I wasn’t entirely sure I even wanted to leave yet. Mostly, that had to do with the last remaining feature of this strange new space.

  Junglings. Everywhere the eye could see, the spindly wooden creatures walked to and fro in an equally orderly and chaotic flurry of motion. There must have been at least a thousand present, though I didn’t spot any houses or huts. Instead, the only items in the clearing were strangely familiar.

  Mortars. Pestles. Knives. Cauldrons.

  Seemingly grown directly from the ground, dozens of long wooden tables filled the space, making it look like some strange jungle-themed banquet hall. Every imaginable variety of herb was spread out across each table, with hundreds of junglings grinding, peeling, cutting, and otherwise processing the myriad plants before them. The vast majority of the plants ended up in different pots or cauldrons with practiced precision, none of the junglings needing to measure their reagents in any way.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “So, the junglings just spend all day brewing potions? Those have to be some pretty potent poisons they’re preparing.” Even well out of range of the nearest workstations, Cal backed away.

  Even though she was doubtlessly correct -- whatever was in those cauldrons had to be brutally toxic -- I found myself moving forward nonetheless. “No,” I replied. “They’re not practicing alchemy.”

  The distance was nothing to my heightened Perception, and I took a long breath in as the scents of their hard work wafted over.

  Unable to help myself, I felt the start of a dopey grin forming on my face.

  “They’re cooking.”

  We followed our original harvester for a while longer, watching as he deposited his harvest in a designated area. From there, other junglings sorted everything out and moved the plants to the many chefs as needed. Our original companion wasn’t involved in any of this followup work, forcing us to bid him farewell as he went back off into the forest.

  As tragic as it was to see him go, I had trouble staying too sad. My earlier revelation had me in high spirits, recognizing the junglings exactly for what they word.

  Kindred spirits! For many months now, I’d been enjoying the subtleties that a good poison could add to a dish, but I’d been alone in that regard. Not even Cal -- who ostensibly was trying to train her Poison Resistance -- would partake in my less conventional recipes, which left me cooking them only for myself.

  A true shame. One that I might be able to rectify if the junglings were interested in a culinary exchange of knowledge. I took a deep breath in, savoring the thick aromas in the air.

  At the same time, I noticed something strange. My notifications. I’d reworked them to not repeat the same message over and over again, but I was still supposed to be getting my Internal Breeze notification at an interval. Only, I didn’t see it.

  Cautiously, I dismissed my choker, once more taking a deep breath in. No new statuses greeted me, confirming my suspicions. With a knock on Verin’s glacier, I signaled for her to get out.

  “No poison.” Whether by some magic that the junglings possessed, or the simpler fact that we were in a clearing, away from the worst of the jungle, the air was safe here. Verin emerged from her icy cocoon with a series of stretches, and Cal presumably disabled whatever part of her Apex Shroud let her go without breathing.

  Both were interested in a lot of talking, but for my part, there was only one thing on my mind. Ignoring the others’ protests, I made a beeline for the nearest cauldron, finding a sort of vegetable soup within. After God’s Eye confirmed that the food wouldn’t outright kill me, I summoned a spoon from my storage, making eye contact with the nearest jungling. When they didn’t try to stop me, I activated the fire variant of my Arcane Choker to keep the liquid from scalding my mouth, and I took a small sip.

  “That’s good! I would eat mor-”

  You have been poisoned!

  You have been paralyzed!

  The rest of my words cut off as my tongue refused to obey me, and within moments, I fell to the ground, forced to wait until the poison wore off.

  “Foolish. It’s bad enough having to deal with the princess. I was under the impression you knew better, Lady Tess. Especially given our current predicament, one should…”

  Apparently, my actions were lecture-worthy, but as the three of us examined the area in more detail, I largely tuned out the long-winded admonishment. If she would have just tried the soup, she would have understood.

  Then again, without my Constitution and Poison Resistance levels, she’d probably also be dead, but that was another matter entirely.

  By and large, there wasn’t much left to see with the junglings or their cooking, which only left the true object of interest: the exit. After scouring every inch of the dilapidated pyramid, we only found two items of note.

  The first was more strange than anything else. While most of the junglings were either down below or off in the jungle, a scarce few joined us on the stone structure, all of them holding one of the food-filled cauldrons we’d seen earlier.

  Initially, I wondered if they had some space up here where they liked to eat, but no. Spaced out across the pyramid were five large tunnels, just large enough to fit a cauldron inside. Thick vines filled all of them, making each of the holes look like some massive plant monster’s nasal cavity.

  “While I struggle to articulate exactly why, I find this scene especially disconcerting.” Verin eyed one of the tunnels with a slight frown as one of the junglings placed their pot into the hole. The vines within latched onto it before slowly transporting it deeper into the tunnel, bending inwards one after another in a wave.

  “I can articulate why,” Cal replied. “Because it’s creepy. And it means there’s something inside eating all of that food. For what it’s worth, if that’s the only way to get inside the building, I’m making one of you do it. Verin, your glacier is about the right size to fit, right?”

  The ensuing squabbling was eventually made moot when we happened upon the second key location. Tucked out of view beneath a mossy stone arch, a large doorway stood, presumably leading our ticket into the pyramid. A chipped and well-worn pedestal stood before it, sporting a small hole in its center, the purpose of which I couldn’t begin to guess at.

  Unfortunately, the dungeon wasn’t kind enough to fill the doorway with a basic door that we could easily push open. As was becoming vexingly commonplace, our way forward was barred by a wall of vines.

  “What are the odds that we can just cut through it?” Looking to answer her own question, Cal summoned her feather blade and sliced into the vines. For a moment, it looked like she’d succeeded, as her blade met next to no resistance, slicing through with ease. Even before she removed her sword, however, the gash in the door sealed shut, the vines regenerating at an ungodly rate.

  “All right. That’s a no-go. Any other ideas?”

  For a while, we unleashed an all-out assault against the barrier. Hoping to halt the rapid healing, I combined fire and death mana, overcharging my weapon with both. While the vines directly around my blade withered and caught fire, fresh vines took their place an instant later, extinguishing the fire and sloughing off the dead bits.

  Ice proved no better, as we quickly discovered that no matter how cold we froze the door, the vines continued to grow just as quickly. With enough elbow grease, we managed to get a small block of stone wedged into the vines before they had a chance to reform, but much to my horror, they burrowed straight through it.

  Ultimately, Verin was the first to voice the obvious. “While it brings me no great joy to admit it, I believe we must conclude that force will not open the way forward for us. Perhaps it has something to do with the pedestal?”

  All three of us began to examine the protruding stone, finding nothing noteworthy about it save for the small hole on its top.

  “What do you think? Kind of feels like we could pour something down there. I’ve been getting ‘creepy ancient temple’ vibes from the pyramid for a while now. Maybe some sort of offering to get the vines to leave us alone?” As a test, Cal asked me to try pouring some water into the opening. The pedestal drank up every last drop, proving that the hole went on for longer than met the eye. Other than that, though, nothing visibly changed.

  Cal and Verin spent some time brainstorming, going so far as to offer the pedestal a few drops of blood. I mostly kept quiet, but as I eyed both the vines and the small hole, a sneaking suspicion began to build up within me.

  Without any explanation, I removed a crude stone vial from my storage, upending it into the hole. A caustic, foul-smelling brew came out, the stone greedily drinking it all up. Moments later, we saw the first results from our efforts: Large sections of the vine wall began to blacken and sizzle.

  Much as we’d seen before, the vines regenerated nearly instantly, but at the very least, I’d offered proof of concept.

  “Poison,” I explained. “The hole connects to the vines. We need to poison them to pass.” What else could it have been, after all? We were in the poison region, so poison was the answer.

  Clearly, what I’d offered up hadn’t been strong enough -- or more likely, it hadn’t been the right type -- but we were in the perfect environment to fix that.

  With my original harvesting failure, I was nervous to gather new herbs to experiment with, but luckily, I had the perfect teachers to help with that.

  “Give me some time,” I insisted. “I can make something that’ll work.”

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