The Hollow Moth: Reincarnated as a Caterpillar

Chapter 38: Lunar Ascension



It all started when we were still at Orbed's prison.

After the feast. After Yyshad—the pyromaniac mushroom got brutally impaled. We had a little time. Time to breathe. Time to snoop around before regrouping with the Phase 1 team.

So, naturally, I went snooping.

Spiky had mentioned something weird—Orbed's experiments. That's where he found the Spikeward Mothkin. Said it wasn't just Myconids in there. Said there were others.

Monsters.

Dead monsters.

And he wasn't wrong.

It was gross. Twisted. Rooms full of warped flesh, parts that should've never been combined, stitched together like someone was trying to build a weapon and a shrine at the same time.

But one cell stood out.

Its door was cracked. The room inside glowed faintly—silvery. Not the dull rot-lights of the other chambers. Something different.

I got closer.

Step by step, breath held, claws soft on the stone.

The ceiling shimmered.

And above me, in the center of the cell, was a single, suspended light.

Pale. Cool. Silvery-white.

It didn't hum like mana. It didn't pulse like spores.

It shone.

And god—it was beautiful.

Then—

"GAH!" I had jumped, bristles flaring, nearly faceplanting into the stone.

Behind me, there had been paw steps. Smug, light.

"Nurrr," Tessa whined, dragging out the 'r' like she was twelve and I had just made her do homework. "What are we even doing here? This place is gross and smelly!"

She covered her nose with one paw, ears tilted back, tail flicking with full-body disapproval.

I glared over my shoulder, antennae twitching. "You creep like that again and I'll spike your tail."

She shrugged, still pouting. "You were just standing there. Staring at a light. Like a moth to a—"

"Don't."

Her ears perked. "To a what, Nur?"

"Don't you dare ah."

She grinned through her paw.

And of course—she was being a smartass.

For once.

It's always moments like this, too, for some reason. Tessa decides to switch on whatever part of her brain runs on sarcasm and sparkles.

She padded up beside me, still holding her nose with one paw, and stared at the glowing cell.

"Hmmm… hmmmmm…" she mused, like she was solving an ancient riddle and not just pretending to have a thought. "I think I've seen that before…"

I didn't respond. I was too busy narrowing my eyes, waiting for the catch.

"I think… yeah… when I was in the Fourth Zone," she went on, tail swaying like she was warming up to a performance. "With Mama Wolf. She said… uhhhh… uhhhh…"

She squinted hard at the ceiling, like it was going to finish the sentence for her.

"…What was it again…?"

And of course.

Moments like this are exactly when she loses her brain cells.

"Ha-ah!" Tessa snapped her claws like she'd just solved all of dungeon-kind. "It's something-something Checkpoint!"

I stared at her.

Deadpan. Flat. Emotionless.

"…Yeah," I muttered. "That definitely helps."

She beamed, completely unbothered. "I know, right?"

I sighed, long and slow, wondering—not for the first time—how the hell this wolf made it through natural selection.

Tessa's eyes lit up like she'd just unearthed the universe's most important trivia fact.

"Mama Wolf said this was made by some kind of goddess!" she declared, tail wagging now, totally forgetting she was complaining about the smell two seconds ago. "For the dark and scary Fourth Zone!"

I raised an eyebrow. "A goddess."

"Yup!" she said, nodding so hard her ears flopped. "And it's supposed to emit, like, real moonlight! Not fake mana-light or glowing rocks or whatever. Actual moon. Like… moon-in-a-box."

She was completely serious.

I stared.

"…That's not how moons work," I said.

She shrugged. "Maybe it is. Dungeon's weird."

Can't argue with that, I guess.

But… yeah.

I couldn't really deny it either.

The moment that light shone through the cell—soft and silver, almost gentle—I felt something shift

Not a loud change. Not some dramatic pulse of power.

Just… different.

Deep in my bristles, down to the roots of my shell. A quiet hum. A stillness that wasn't still.

Like the light wasn't just touching me.

It was seeping into me.

I couldn't explain it.

But I felt like I was absorbing it.

Like it knew me.

Just as I'm about to lean closer—just to test the light, maybe touch it, maybe let it touch me again—

A wave of psychic crashes into my skull.

"Guys! Victor and the others just arrived—we should get out now!"

Goldy's voice. Sharp. Urgent. Buzzing straight through my thoughts like she'd smacked me upside the head with her antennae.

I groan, mandibles twitching. "Ughhh, Goldy…"

Of course, she'd pick now.

Right when things were getting interesting.

Tessa chirped. "Wait, we're leaving? But I just remembered stuff!"

"Exactly," I muttered. "We have to go."

Well… did it unlock?

Lunar Ascension?

Only one way to find out.

---

One Lucid Reflection later.

The void greeted me—white, endless, silent.

I moved without thinking, body light, and practiced. I reached out and touched the drifting gas.

And the world turned black.

Skill echoes bloomed around me—glowing fragments of memory, power, instinct. I scanned them, eyes flicking from one familiar shape to the next.

Then I saw it.

Floating just above the others.

A silver crescent, slow-spinning. Luminous. Cold and bright like winter moonlight.

Lunar Ascension.

Unlocked.

I stared at it, heart thudding slow and heavy.

So it was real.

It's mine.

After all that time.

All the struggles. All the frustration. All the nights wondering if I was broken—if I had missed something—if it was never going to come.

And now?

There it was.

Finally.

Unlocked.

I stepped closer, heart pounding in a slow, steady rhythm as I reached toward the spinning silver light. My touch brushed it—and instantly, information flowed into me like a tide.

Lunar Ascension

Lunar Reserve

Full Moon: 12%
Gibbous Moon: 0%

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Half Moon: 0%
Crescent Moon: 0%
New Moon: 0%

I stared at it, breathing shallow.

Twelve percent.

Only one phase available.

But it's starting.

"Alright," I whispered, eyes narrowing, mandibles twitching with a grin.

"Let's see what you've got."

I reached out and clicked on Full Moon.

The silver crescent pulsed—once—then expanded outward, blooming like liquid light across the void.

A projection unfurled before me, shimmering with meaning, weight, and power. The effect engraved itself into my mind, like instinct made readable:

Full Moon
Increases all attributes significantly, including:

Strength

Agility

Stamina

Magic Output

Mana Regeneration

Reflexes

My eyes widened.

Every part of me—everything—enhanced.

No trade-offs. No limitations.

Just raw, amplified potential.

A slow grin crept across my face.

Finally.

Wait—

It said I had a percentage.

Twelve percent.

So it's not something I can use freely.

It's a reserve—a meter.

Which means… it runs out.

So the moon is the charger, and I'm the battery?

Or maybe both?

My antennae twitched, and I squinted at the display. No explanation. No helpful tooltips. Just cold, silvery numbers and the quiet weight of implication.

What happens if I use this while basking in the moonlight?

Does the reserve stay stable? Stagnate?

Refill?

Or worse—does it still drain?

Slowly?

Fast?

God—does it burn faster the stronger the moon phase is?

Ughhh. More mysteries.

Of course, it couldn't be simple.

But if it's this limited… twelve percent is all I have right now...

Then this isn't a skill for warmups.

It's for survival.

For killing.

For that one moment when nothing else will work and I need everything I've got—plus more.

I backed away from the Full Moon display slowly, letting it fade back into the dark.

"Fine," I muttered, almost to myself. "I'll keep you hidden."

"Until it really counts."

I looked back at the Lunar Ascension display.

Up top, the Lunar Reserve hovered like a looming truth—cold and precise.
12%. Still there. Still ticking… or waiting.

Then I glanced below it.

A new section had quietly bloomed beneath the main title, like something unlocking because I dared to ask.

Lunar Subskills:

Crescent Blade
Conjures a silver crescent blade that slices through enemies. It uses a 1% reserve per blade.

Lunar Beam
Releases a beam of concentrated lunar energy. Scorches enemies with lunar burn, dealing damage over time. Uses up to 3% per beam.

My antennae twitched.

So this is like… a skill within a skill?

Lunar Ascension wasn't just a buff—it was a whole framework. A core. A forged system layered with specialized tools.

Was I secretly OP this whole time?

That familiar, dangerous little thrill fluttered in my chest.

…Alright, let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Still, the Subskills actually listed their cost clearly—1% for the blade and up to 3% for the beam. Precise, like attacks were being rationed.

But then—

I frowned.

There was no info on how much reserve it took to maintain the core form itself. No indicator of passive drain or usage rate when Lunar Ascension was simply active.

Was I missing it?

Or was it just hidden?

I narrowed my eyes, mandibles tight.

Welp.

I'll figure it out later.

I looked down again, scanning for anything else.

Another shimmer caught my eye—another subskill.

Whoa.

This one is… crazy.

---

Back to the present.

The air's thick with spores, firelight, and the tang of burning roots.

So yeah.

That's how I unlocked my shit.

Now?

I roll my shoulders, crescent blade humming softly at my side, silver light catching in the cracks of the scorched tunnel.

"Let's finish this," I mutter, eyes locked on Yelinod.

"That beardo Myconid's had it coming."

More mycelial vines burst from the walls—thick, thorned, and fast.

They come from every angle, twisting through the air like they've got personal beef with me.

But I don't flinch.

The crescent blade hums once, then slices—clean, silent, and effortless. Vines fall in twitching halves around me, their ends sizzling with residual lunar energy.

I twist and pivot between them, movements sharp and fluid—agility dialed up by Lunar Ascension, every limb moving like it's already seen what's coming.

And the best part?

I feel them before I even see them—thanks to my upgraded psychic senses, courtesy of a lovely, mildly traumatic session with Spiky.

Upgrades, baby.

I leap forward through the shredded vines, the crescent still orbiting me like a blade made of judgment.

"Come on, beard-boy," I growl.

"Let's dance."

I bolt toward Yelinod—legs pumping, claws tearing into the ground for traction, speed pouring through me like wildfire.

My crescent blade spirals beside me, silver and seething, and my mandibles snap wide open as I lunge—

BAM.

Ow.

I hit the wall.

Full force.

Face-first.

I crumple for half a second, twitching, stunned. My antennae are ringing like someone whacked a tuning fork inside my skull.

"What—?"

I stagger back, eyes scanning the space where he was just standing. Where the Sage should be.

But there's nothing there.

Nothing.

"…Where the hell did he go?"

Behind me, Vex clicks his mandibles, voice as flat as ever.

"Well. Even with that newly found power of yours… can't deal with that, huh?"

I slowly turn, still rubbing the side of my face where I kissed the stone.

"I was aiming for their face, not a rock wall," I mutter.

Tessa snorts behind him. "Ten out of ten lunges, though. Great form. Terrible outcome."

"Both of you can rot."

But still—I scan the tunnel again.

Yelinod didn't just run.

They vanished.

Vex clicks his tongue.

"Look at you," he says, smirking. "All confused. Real intimidating. Go on—look up."

I squint at him. "What are you—"

Then I look up.

And there they are.

Yelinod.

Half-fused into the ceiling, their fungal body thread through the stone like roots through the soil, eyes dim and unblinking.

A second later, they slip—sinking upward like ink into cloth—

—and reemerge from the ground on the far end of the tunnel, spores scattering like dust in their wake.

Tessa groans, stomping her paw. "Ughhh! They did it again!"

She throws a smoldering glare at them. "Can you not? Like seriously—stop doing that and just let us kill you already!"

Yelinod's voice drifts up through the spores again, steady and mocking.

"Told you… officers like me won't go down easily."

I groan inwardly.

Ughh. No wonder Tessa and Vex were having such a hard time killing this mushroom. They're not just some enhanced creeper or walking sage—they're trained. Disciplined. Stubborn.

And Time is something we don't have.

We still need to get back to the ritual site—to Goldy, to the others. Every second we spend here is another second Orbed could be closing in.

Unless…

Maybe we don't have to fight.

I take a slow breath and step forward past Tessa's twitching tail and Vex's narrowed glare.

"Yelinod, is it?" I call out, voice firm but steady. "Ypal told me about you."

For a moment, there's only silence. Then Yelinod shifts—half-sunken into the stone again, their eyes like dimmed glass.

"Yes. It is I," they say at last.
"And what care have I for the words of the betrayer?"

"Hey, what are you—" Vex starts, but I raise a leg, cutting him off without turning around.

I keep my eyes on Yelinod, my voice sharper now.

"Betrayer? Are you sure Orbed isn't the real one? They seek nothing but conquest and destruction. You think that's survival? That's not preservation—it's madness. It'll burn the whole colony down with it."

Yelinod's form pulses faintly, spores rising like steam as their voice floods back through the psychic field.

"Yes. YES. I am very well aware of that."
"And I do think it's necessary."
"Our colony has been kept weak for too long—hunted by adventurers, slaughtered by monsters, culled like weeds. And what did the previous Emperor do?"
"Nothing. All that talk of balance. Harmony. Peace with the surface."
"Nonsense."

Despite all that righteous bluster in their spore-cloud, I caught a whiff of doubt—like they weren't entirely sold on their own villain monologue.

Tessa mutters under her breath behind me. "Okay, this guy needs a nap."

I squint at Yelinod, antennae twitching.

Geez. How did this Myconid even evolve into a Sage?

The edge on this one.

Damn.

I stare at Yelinod like they just delivered the most underwhelming villain monologue of the century.

"Wow," I say, completely flat. "That was incredible. Truly. I've never heard someone sound so passionate about saying absolutely nothing. That was like listening to a moldy PowerPoint presentation on bitterness."

I take a step forward, waving a leg in a wide, dramatic circle. "Like seriously—'our colony has suffered, the emperor was weak, Orbed will rise'—bro, shut up. You don't sound like a loyalist. You sound like a dude who got passed over for a promotion and decided to burn down the office."

Tessa lets out a snort behind me.

"And let's be real here," I continue, voice rising. "I've seen Orbed's actual goons. They're insane. Like, next-level crazy. Their spores scream about rot, decay, dominance—they live, breathe, and probably bathe in that rot cult."

I jab a leg toward Yelinod. "You? Your spores don't say 'dominance.' They say, 'Daddy never said he was proud of me.' You're not devoted. You're just emotionally damaged and projecting."

There's a tense pause.

Yelinod's voice drips with disdain.
"What do you know of spores? You're not even a Myconid."

I scoff.

"Uh, hello? Psychic-based lifeform over here? We do nothing but mind games. We're walking emotional wi-fi. Mindfuckery is our whole damn brand."

I spread my limbs dramatically.

"You think spores are mysterious? Buddy, I read your soul like it was fanfiction—and yes, like fanfiction, it's cringe(sometimes).

Yelinod freezes.

Absolutely still.

Then their head twitches. Slowly. Their eyes lock on me—and now they're glowing. Not with resolve. Not with clarity.

With rage.

"You…" their voice cracks, deeper, warped, their spores flaring like a scream.
"You know nothing of me."

Their hand shoots out—

And the tunnel explodes.

Mycelium vines burst from every surface—walls, floor, ceiling—flaring with wild, unshaped energy. Not tactical. Not clean.

Just pure, furious instinct.

Tessa skids back beside me, tail puffed out like a bottlebrush. "Okay! Nope! Nope-nope-nope!"

Vex slides next to me, eyes narrow. "So… that your real plan, lil' sis? Pissing them off?

I shrug, grinning even as another vine whips past us.

"Okay, okay, technically, the plan was a teeny, tiny bit backfired—hehe—but look at the bright side!"

I gesture toward Yelinod, who's now screaming through spores and melting the ceiling.

"Maybe they're more vulnerable now. You know, like when people rage, they forget all about defense and tactical restraint and… yeah?"

Vex just stares at me.

Tessa sighs. "You're lucky you're cute."

I duck behind a jut of stone, vines thrashing overhead, and lower my psychic voice and propose a plan to them.

"Mutter mutter—okay, Vex, you do that thing we talked about. You know. The stingy one. But just enough, not soup mode."

Vex gives me a flat look. "Seriously?"

I nod, grinning. "Seriously."

Then I glance at Tessa. "You—go left. Fast. Time it when he moves. You'll know when."

Tessa squints. "You want me to—?"

"Yup."

"…Okay."

We share one silent beat, the three of us crouched in the middle of a living storm.

It's not perfect.

But it might just work.

"On my signal," I mutter.

And I step out.

I move out front, crescent blade spinning at my side like a hungry moon—each arc slicing clean through the storm of raging vines around me.

Tessa bolts to my left, fast and light on her feet, ignoring the vines like they're nothing but grass. She ducks, swerves, hops right over a tangle of roots—and that's when they start concentrating on her.

Good.

More vines surge toward her, thick and wild and panicked.

Then she plants her feet.

Her eyes narrow.

Orange rings begin to bloom in front of her snout, glowing hotter and brighter by the second—

And then—
AWOOOOOOOOOO!

A shockwave rips through the tunnel, fire and force bursting out with her howl. The vines catch fire instantly, burning mid-air, curling in on themselves like they're afraid of the sound.

I charge forward through the gap she made, picking up speed.

I lock on to Yelinod.

Range acquired.

I send my crescent blade spinning, silver and sharp, cutting the air like moonlight turned into a weapon—

But just before it lands—

THUD.

A thick wall of fungus erupts from the ground, solid and sudden.

The blade buries itself into the mass.

And then—

It fades.

Gone.

Damn.

Or so I thought.

Because just as the crescent blade vanishes into the wall—

Vex drops from the ceiling.

Silent.

Precise.

He lands behind Yelinod with a muted thud, all spines bristling, mandibles wide.

Before Yelinod can even turn—
CHHK.

Vex bites down, hard—his mandibles sinking into their back, venom already working its way into the mycelium.

It's not the kind that kills.

It's the kind that crawls under the skin and screams.

Yelinod lets out a sharp, glitching spore-screech, their movements suddenly jerky, unstable, like their body's trying to move in five directions at once.

And Vex?

Vex just mutters, "Told you we had a score to settle."

As the venom seeps in, it happens fast.

Yelinod's limbs falter, spasming once—twice—then locking up entirely. Their body sways, stiff and twitching, before they finally collapse to the ground with a muffled thud.

And with them—

The mycelium vines wither.

They slump from the ceiling, curl away from the walls, crumbling into limp, twitching strands before going still entirely.

Silence floods the tunnel.

I exhale, my shoulders finally dropping.

Tessa steps up beside me, fur scorched, eyes wide. "Okay. That was... that was a lot."

Vex brushes a bit of fungus off his mandibles, totally calm. "Told you. Just needed the right angle."

I nod slowly, looking down at Yelinod's collapsed form.

Still breathing. Still alive.

But done.

Vex narrows his eyes, nudging Yelinod's collapsed form with the tip of one claw. "Hey," he mutters, "why'd you insist on keeping this beardo alive anyway?"

I glance at him, then down at Yelinod—still twitching faintly, still breathing.

"…I don't know," I say, honest. "They just felt… different. Not like the others."

I shrug, mandibles clicking softly. "The others were all rot this, dominance that, full cult-mode. But this one? This beardo? They didn't sound like a follower."

"Sounded more like someone who got hurt. And made the worst possible choice."

Vex raises an eyebrow. I sigh.

"Besides, Ypal talked about them. Said they used to be important. Trusted."

I pause.

"…I'd just feel kinda bad, you know? Killing someone who already sounds like they're halfway to hating themselves."

Tessa tilts her head. "So what now?"

I look at the limp form of the Myconid Sage.

"Now we tie up fungus Santa and head back."

I let out a breath and eased off the power surging in my limbs.

The silvery glow fades—first from my eyes, then finally from my skin. Lunar Ascension winds down like moonlight at dawn, slipping away quietly.

I feel… heavier.

Tired.

But steady.

"Let's go," I say, turning toward the exit. "We need to get back to the ritual site. Orbed's going to be there. Goldy and the others—"

"They're in danger."

Tessa stares. "Wait—what? Orbed is there?"

"And why Goldy?" Vex adds, voice suddenly sharp.

I start moving.

"I'll explain on the way."

And I don't look back.

End of Chapter 38


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