image [https://i.imgur.com/xcQhW8Y.jpg]

After the system alert, the dungeon was eerily silent, devoid of its core. As I stalked through what remained, I encountered an array of monster corpses. Not all creatures were dead, though; the persistent tapping of crab-like feet scurrying behind me suggested otherwise. Yet, whenever I turned to pinpoint the sound, I found nothing. I’m not saying I was terrified or scared of confronting that mimic chest again; it’s just that I prefer not to... yeah, it’s a preference thing. Ha. Ha. Ha...

Still, the strewn-about carcasses provided a rather delicious bounty of meals. Regrettably, my attempts to use Absorb on them consistently ended in failure, heightening my frustration.

Presently, a more pressing issue arose: my fat ass—I mean, my cumbersome size. Navigating as a massive eyeball was getting increasingly impractical, and I was growing rather annoyed with it. I yearned for a more practical form—legs, arms, you know, typical human anatomy shit. It was time to play around with Polymorph again, a task I dreaded—not because of the shapeshifting itself, but because I get rather bitchy when faced with repeated failure. My previous attempts with the skill had been far from successful, hence why I was an eyeball with tentacles.

Might as well get it over with—wait, shouldn’t all my insight crap be helping a girl out?

Taking a figurative deep breath, I got to work. The last time I did this, I got the impression that using Polymorph was more intuitive off my subconscious than actually trying to force myself to shapeshift. That got me wondering if all magic was like that or not.

“Oh, it is.”

—Seriously, who keeps talking?!

I glanced all around, but much to my frustration, I was alone. Well, besides a few little taps, as if something was scurrying around in the darkness, but I was getting used to that by this point—yes, that last part was a lie. Still, I was starting to get concerned for my sanity. Yeah, I often talk to myself, and maybe talk back while answering a few of my own questions, but this newest voice I’m hearing doesn’t sound anything like me. So, yeeeaaah, I might be developing the need for a straight jacket that has nothing to do with cannibalism—who figured.

Shaking off that spooky feeling—or perhaps, a warning sign that I’m losing my mind—I got back to what I was doing. I tried to clear my mind of any stray thoughts, wanting nothing but emptiness when I made my subconscious effort to Polymorph.

It’s not going to work, is it?

Did I leave the burner on?

Shit! Clear my mind. Clear thoughts. No thoughts. Nothing...

I’m still doing it, aren’t I?

Yes. Yes, I am.

—Fuck!

After about six hours—yes, that’s an exaggeration, I do that a lot. I have absolutely no clue how much time has passed, including how long I’ve been in this damn dungeon. It could be, like, three weeks or eight hours. It’s not like I have a watch or the sun to go by, and I blank out a lot when I’m messing around with the system and my skills.

Anyway, after what felt like an eternity, I was able to clear my mind… somewhat. With my single eye now gone, all of my passives turned off (minus Polymorph, of course), and my mind not focusing on shapeshifting or anything, I simply stretched my arms out like anyone would. No, really, that’s how easy it was—OKAY! Yes, that’s another exaggeration—it was more like trying to yawn. You can’t do it on command, but you see someone else doing it, or you sort of think about it in the back of your mind, and the next thing you know, you’re yawning. Well, the next thing I knew, I was reaching skyward out of my gooey blob of a body with two human-ish arms.

Admit it, you just yawned, didn’t you?

With a few more metaphorical yawns, I finally managed to stand on two wobbly, human-esque legs, which were anything but sexy. Seriously, an anorexic might have more curves than me.

I reactivated my Mana Focus into not one, but two eyes this time, and discovered that I now had depth perception—not something I realized I was missing until I had it back. Glancing over my body, I could see it was an improvement over my first skeletal attempt, but not by much. Yes, I still resembled a skeleton, though now with some muscle tone, or rather, a mix of tendrils and tentacles running all along my body, holding it together—it’s not too horrifying to look at if you ignore all the wiggling.

Glancing around, I noticed a smooth stone that was rather shiny, like obsidian. Walking over to it on unsteady legs, I got a good look at my reflection. The first thing I noticed were my eyes—they were glowing orange. I wasn’t sure if I was seeing the mana within my eyes or if they were truly emitting an orange luminescence, given that Mana Focus didn’t function the same way as normal eyesight. Either way, seeing the glow on a black, skull-like, gooey face was rather terrifying, even without a mouth.

The next thing I noticed was something I’d given myself without meaning to. I was wearing a hat? Well, a large black mushroom cap stood upon my head. Apparently, I must have been subconsciously thinking of the campestri when I was shapeshifting. Well, at least I had somewhat of a chest now, though it was a modest—pathetically modest—A-cup.

I guess I need to eat a bit more.

“Found you, I have!” an annoyingly familiar voice bellowed, startling me.

I turned ever so slowly, spotting a potential meal gleefully approaching. The sight filled me with both irritation and elation. However, I was a bit confused by the appearance of the same goblin whose head I had eaten. Cocking my head from side to side, I stared at the creature, wondering if I was seeing things. And don’t think I’m racist for thinking this, but do all goblins look alike?

“You’ve grown! Yes. Yes. You much bigger now,” the goblin exclaimed, confirming my suspicion; it was indeed the same goblin, but how? “I need help. You help. You my pet. Yes. Yes. I name you… Muddy! Yes?” the goblin nodded to himself enthusiastically. “Good name! Yes?”

Mud—what?

For a long moment, I stood there staring at him, unmoving, trying to process what he had just said. Then, my gaze dropped to his arms, which were crossed in front of him, securely holding a gelatinous cube close to his body.

“P-Please, kill me,” the cube squeaked, but the goblin, apparently oblivious, continued.

“Me Wartie. We go now. To Ockpool. Bad attack happened. With you, I help!” the goblin added.

I can’t believe I’m about to do this either.

So, in a bizarre twist, I found myself following the goblin. I mean, here I was, deep in some freaky dungeon, tailing a goblin—child?—with more warts than a toad’s backside to a place called Ockpool. Which, by the way, I thought I was already at, since it was the name of the dungeon I was in. And to top it off, I’d already dispatched a ghoul, a succubus, a handful of spiders, mushroom people, eaten this goblin’s head, and been chewed on like a squeaky toy by a mimic chest. Oh, and there was some random girl’s corpse I stumbled upon.

Mmm, tasty! Hey, I was hungry again, okay?

But the real kicker?

I was a contender for the title of dark champion, locked in a twisted competition with five others. If they didn’t kill one another first, I would be more than happy to lend a hand, or rather, a tentacle. It was a game of Dungeons and Murder, and I was reveling in it like a kid in a candy store.

However, I’d also been offered a quest to retrieve the Ockpool Dungeon Core, with the reward of Ascension. I’m not entirely sure what that entails, but it sounded important. Hence, why I was following the goblin after he mentioned Ockpool—it was my only lead, after all.

As I followed the snack—or Wartie—I let my mind wander, which was, after all, the only way to keep my darker impulses in check. If I didn’t, there’d be no goblin to lead the way.

I couldn’t believe it—me—a former rebellious goth girl, now cool with murder and cannibalism—yeah… that seems legit. Still, how did this happen? I guess being reincarnated as a black pudding really screws with one’s moral compass. But the scariest part? I was having a blast! It’s not every day you get to indulge in the darker, sadistic side of life without any apparent consequences… there are no consequences, right?

As I trailed behind the goblin, I remained silent, not saying a word—after all, what was there to say? Besides, it’s not like I could speak, though that was more of a technicality. Instead, I stared at the goblin, my mind vividly recalling the taste of his brain.

Yummy—wait a minute, he’s just a kid, right?

Ugh, children are off-limits, aren’t they?

Well, maybe not the naughty ones. I mean, if Krampus can do it, why can’t I?

The thought of devouring children was tempting, yet the more I considered it, the more it felt like I was plagued with a serious case of indigestion. Or perhaps it was just a mild case? Pulling my focus away from the little green morsel, I took in the sights around me.

I found myself in an entirely different cavern than before, and it was enormous—a true sight to behold. I peeked around like a tourist, my head topped with a black mushroom cap swiveling all around. As we trudged deeper into the dungeon, I noticed the pathways crisscrossing over one another. I couldn’t help but get a bit lost as my mind wandered to random thoughts.

Am I on another planet, universe, or in a different reality altogether?

The idea of being reborn on Earth in a future where magic existed seemed farfetched but not impossible. However, something I read in the description of my Polyglot skill ended that speculation: Master all languages spoken across the Moons of Völuspá.

The Moons of Völuspá. Am I on a moon?

Oh, the possibilities!

As for my current state of mind, had I become a psychopath? I keep coming back to this question, despite already knowing the answer. It was as if I wanted to deny it, yet at the same time, I was gleefully excited about it. Yeah, I’m a hypocrite. But did I want to become the Dark Champion, or should I find a way to escape this dungeon? Then there was the quest, and its reward. I know. I know. I just thought about this a few moments ago, but it was a lot to take in, okay?

Decisions. Decisions.

Screw it, I’ll stay the course. Who needs a way out when I’m having this much fun?

Feh, what’s wrong with me?

Do I want to answer that question?

That all being said—or thought about—my mind kept circling back to a certain vampire. Yeah, I know it’s too soon to consider it love, or even infatuation, but why did I want to see her again so badly? This had to be a stalker thing, right? I mean, am I becoming a stalker? Well, if so, at least they don’t have restraining orders in this reality, so it should be all good.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The goblin abruptly came to a halt, and I nearly stumbled over him. Suddenly, his grubby little hand shot up, attempting to grab mine. I recoiled in horror—not because I was afraid of him or anything, but because I had reactivated my passive attacks. After all, it was too soon to off this green goblin.

What was he thinking? Does he want to die?

Well, I suppose he would make for a tasty snack...

Ahem. No, no, bad thoughts! Must keep it together. I need to find the core before going on a killing spree.

“It’s good. Acid no hurt me. Me got protection from Doodles,” Wartie exclaimed as he held out the slime cube like a puppy he wanted to show off.

Doodles quivered as he squeaked out, “Kill me.”

Oh, you little idiot. I’m also poisonous.

As I deactivated my passive skills, the kid interrupted my pleasant musings as he managed to clutch my hand on his next attempt.

“You ready, Muddy?” he asked.

Ready for what? And stop calling me Muddy!

“Come, Muddy, entrance over here,” he continued, dragging me toward an ominous tunnel entrance I was certain hadn’t been there before. All the while, Doodles shook beneath the goblin’s other arm.

Well, this should be interesting.

Little did this goblin know, he was leading a psychopath with a taste for flesh by the hand. It conjured up the image of someone holding Freddy Krueger’s hand, leading him into their home. The thought made me snicker to myself.

Still, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of annoyance and disgust that I hadn’t killed this goblin yet. That also got me wondering how he had come back to life. I really should have thought about that earlier, but I had a lot on my mind. Regardless, I swore upon any deity or demon responsible for this twisted system—this Magic admin, if the system notification was right—that if this goblin came back for a third time, I’d murder the admin.

Oh yes, I will find you, and I will kill you! Do you hear me?

Whether you’re a bitch or a bastard, it doesn’t matter to me.

V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE

TitleUpdate

The Auxiliary Admin has recognized your ridiculously pathetic vow and deemed it unworthy.

Title Awarded: [Hopeless Crusader]

_

TitleDetails

[Hopeless Crusader]

Description: Grants unparalleled proficiency in mastering all system skills, fueling a seemingly futile quest with relentless determination and a touch of madness.

Status: Active

Type: Title

Activation: Passive

Deactivate [Hopeless Crusader]?

Error.

Error.

_

Admin Note: May fortune favor you, little bug.

V:\>

Bitch! EEK—no, I meant, a-apologies—shit!

I hadn’t expected some admin, deity, or whatever to listen in on my thoughts and then award me a Title as if to mock me when I half-heartedly threatened them while venting. Although the description of it seemed rather badass, even if it was ridiculing me—I’ll take it. Still, I need to be careful about what I think or say.

Wait, could those random voices I’ve heard possibly be... Nah. No. Nooo. Maybe?

Huh.

“Good boy! Muddy, follow. Come, boy, go inside now,” the wart-covered bastard exclaimed, pulling me along by the hand, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his pet-tamer attempt had never worked on me when we first met.

Ugh, boy?! Why you! I’m a girl, damn it! Does he not see these perky… tiny A-cups?

That’s it, I’m going to kill him.

Oh wait, that’s not good. Deep breaths, Muddy—Blake! Ugh! I still need him to take me to Ockpool. I can kill him later. Yes! I can kill him later!

Oh, come on, that’s not helping.

I had threatened a deity, but at least I made their day. I should take a minute, collect myself, and maybe even eat a goblin after we reach our destination. In any case, I should play around with my skills after gaining Hopeless Crusader. It might even help with my shapeshifting. But those were all things I’d work on later. For the time being, my focus was on the prize—or rather, my quest and my only lead.

“Muddy?” Wartie uttered in a hushed tone.

Ugh! Stop calling me Muddy!

I wanted to scoff at him, but, you know, no mouth or vocal cords.

Dammit, Blake, just ignore him and play along.

With my best effort, I gave him my most sinister glare, attempting to skewer the pint-sized goblin whelp... or it would have, if he had actually been looking at me.

“Come. Come,” he stammered, continuing to tug at me as if I were a damn dog!

Easy there, Blake. Let’s not jump the gun... just yet.

Snuffing out tykes is downright distasteful.

Well, I haven’t determined if he’s a kid yet, have I? Besides, eating kids can’t be that bad, just think of it as veal.

Chuckling darkly to myself, I wrenched my attention away from my wicked thoughts. I had to admit, I was a bit worried about what the admin might have in store for me. The more I pondered, the more I wondered if they wanted something else from me besides the quest, or if they had their own agenda.

Casting my gaze upon the goblin, I watched the little pest puff out his chest, pivot, and saunter straight through a slight crack in the wall. It was another hidden entrance, one of many we had encountered thus far. Had I not just witnessed him enter it, the opening would have easily escaped my notice. With a sigh, I ducked down and allowed him to pull me behind him. My mushroom cap head scraped against the sides of the wall as we moved.

Unexpectedly, the opening through which I trailed Wartie didn’t reveal another tunnel, corridor, or passageway but rather an impressive stone archway leading to another massive cavern. Lurking beside it were four goblins garbed in haphazard leather and rusted armor—if one could even call what they wore armor. It resembled nothing more than pitiful scraps of metal bound together with frayed leather straps.

To add insult to injury, their loincloths left little to the imagination.

Talk about getting an eyeful.

Despite their shoddy attire, these goblins loomed over Wartie and me, even though I was a good two heads taller than my annoying escort. Their expressions seethed with fury.

“Yes! Yes! Kill me! Kill me!” Doodles cried out excitedly, but no one paid the slime any attention. This confirmed what I already suspected: I was indeed the only one who could understand the gelatinous cube. Perks of Polyglot, it seemed.

Well, isn’t this just delightful?

“WHERE DID YOU GO?” one of them bellowed.

“Found black slime pet,” the kid replied, wiggling his toes into the dirt.

That’s not slime. It looks like mushroom-man, but bigger,” another goblin roared, brandishing a wooden club in my direction.

“Found Muddy, I did. Muddy good. New pet! Adventures killed me and Doodles. I went back and found Muddy, want revenge!”

…

“Adventurers from Slaethia?! Same ones who took the core?” a goblin asked, a note of panic lacing his tone. “Saggy, fetch the Warchief!”

Slaethia? Oh, do you mean the other candidates? Ah, yes, you guys don’t need to worry about them.

Surprisingly, the goblins appeared genuinely terrified. Little do they know; I’ll tear this whole place asunder before allowing them to harm one hair on my future meals.

I really want their skills.

Yet, why did these goblins have to bear such wretched monikers? Wartie, now Saggy? One of the green creatures nodded, then promptly bolted. Observing his hasty departure, I couldn’t help but note the goblin’s bow-legged gait. As he scurried off, I caught a horrifying glimpse of something sagging beneath his loincloth, an unsavory pair to behold.

Ugh, why did I have to see that?

Wartie appeared hesitant as he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “T-there were ten of them. Yeah, ten adventurers! Muddy battled all ten. Muddy unbeatable! Adventurers ran in fear after they killed me and Doodles!”

Ha! You little fibber.

“That fought ten adventurers?” Another goblin surged forward as if daring Wartie to fight. “Mushroom, not scary, nor does it fight well.”

“You challenge?” Wartie replied with a low growl.

“I do!”

“Me accept—Muddy, attack!”

What?! Is this kid for real?

Well, I mean, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to the idea.

Before I could weigh the pros and cons, a wooden club smashed into my mushroom-shaped head. Pudding splattered all over the club as it sunk down into my head a good fifteen centimeters.

“Muddy, I said attack!”

Sticky tendrils tore as the goblin ripped his club back, hoisting it aloft over his shoulder for another swing. Yet, I detected a scowl etched across his hideous face as he took stock of how little his impact had done to my gooey head, watching the damaged surface fill back in. Nevertheless, I harbored no desire to endure a pummeling to my soft cranium. After all, I had magic, and I wanted to use it.

A sly grin spread across my mouthless face as I focused on the spell, [Blight]. A murky, black haze mixed with dark greens and purples enshrouded the goblin. He uttered a piercing scream, followed by a resounding thud as his club clattered to the ground. As I readied my next move—reactivating my passives and springing forth—I realized it was too late. My opponent crumpled into a revolting mixture of blisters, pus, and blood.

Well, that was anticlimactic.

As I braced myself for the inevitable notification and, hopefully, another level, I was disappointed that nothing happened.

Well, isn’t that just fucking peachy.

I couldn’t help but wonder how much of the dungeon core was connected to the system. It was a twisted, sick joke—I needed more power, but without the core, there was no way to level up! Or so it seemed.

As I gazed at the repulsive heap that was once a goblin, I couldn’t help but shudder with delight. I mean, I’m no stranger to getting my hands dirty, but this was a whole new level of grossness, which got my mouth watering—if I had one. No, really, the foul aroma coming from it got me all hungry, and I knew that was so wrong on so many levels, and yet, I really wanted to eat it. However, I hadn’t gotten a system notification for killing him, nor one asking if I wanted to Absorb the corpse.

That said, Absorb was a skill I could cast, so maybe I might get something even if I don’t get the prompt for it? In the worst-case scenario, at least it would be good for my figure.

With my fingers crossed, I stood over the dead goblin and cast my skill. Like tar, my body melted over the goblin, disappearing beneath me as I quickly dissolved it away.

V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE

SkillUpdate

[Absorb] [Dungeon Denizen] [Goblin] Unsuccessful.

_

Admin Note: With the Dungeon Core missing, only the last remaining Dungeon Bosses can successfully grant levels and skills upon being defeated.

V:\>

Ah, yes. The sweet, sweet notification of crushing disappointment. I defeated the goblin, yet I have nothing to show for it... well, shit.

I paused my internal bitching to stare at the admin note. It seemed if I wanted to gain any new skills from this dead dungeon, I’d have to find the last remaining bosses. Let’s just say, I wasn’t happy about it.

Anger bubbled within me like a simmering cauldron. What kind of twisted reality was this? And to make matters worse, I’d get nothing for murdering Wartie!

The other goblins’ eyes widened in terror as one of them pointed a shaky finger at me. “T-THAT NOT MUSHROOM!” he shrieked, his voice cracking with fear.

Oh yeah, I forgot, I had an audience.

Wartie tried to put on a brave face, but his eyes were darting everywhere except at me. The other two goblins were backing away slowly, ready to bolt at any moment. And to top things off, a dozen other humanoid creatures were slowly approaching us.

Great, that’s just what I needed: more spectators who can’t offer me any skills or levels.

“Warchief—monster!”

Oh, the hypocrisy!

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the situation. I, a pudding, am being called a monster by these ugly green bastards. But I knew better than to underestimate the approaching mob.

I needed to think fast and devise a plan, or else I’d end up just like the pile of goblin slop I had just absorbed. I started reforming my body, finding it surprisingly easier than the last time I’d done it. I even noticed my mushroom top was now gone, although I didn’t bother taking a moment to examine myself as all kinds of strange-looking humanoid creatures neared, apprehension evident in their shifting gazes.

A frizzled-looking werewolf creature stepped forward from the group. He looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks, and his scraggly gray beard could have doubled as a mop. His outfit was a fashion disaster—a pink and black robe so worn out it looked like it had been through a war, paired with a long skirt. I mean, seriously?

Did he steal that from a dead sorceress or something?

To top it all off, his walking cane was impressive, but it gave off an unsettling vibe, as if it were displacing something, maybe even the air itself.

The frizzled werewolf looked at me and spoke with a surprisingly high-pitched yet grizzled voice. “It seems you’ve found yourselves a system user, boy. And they haven’t murdered all of us. Fascinating and rather odd. How very peculiar indeed.” He then turned to Wartie and asked, “Boy, did you bring this pudding here?”

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease as I looked into those beady little eyes. However, my black, gooey blood ran cold when I noticed a treasure chest off in the distance, just lying there against the cavern wall.

“Yes, Warchief. I tamed it. My pet now.”

Tamed me? Oh, hell no he didn’t!

“Good. Good,” the chief chuckled, shaking his head, knowing full well he hadn’t. I suppose the glare I shot at Wartie spoke volumes. “Well, let’s not dawdle about out here like uncivilized monsters. Let’s head back inside.”

One of the goblins cried out in terror, “But Warchief! That thing ate Gaping!”

Oh god, why was that goblin’s name Gaping? You know what... I don’t want to know.

“Ah, I see. Boy, did you or your new friend start the challenge, or did Gaping?”

“Gaping, Warchief.”

The werewolf creature chuckled, “Ah, Gaping. Always did take on more than he could handle. He was eventually going to encounter something too big, even for him. But it was a challenge, so no rules were broken, even if the user ate the corpse.”

Ah... what? I-I... ugh, never mind.

“But Warchief?!”

“Rules are rules, and if they haven’t been broken, there’s no need to dwell on the matter. Now, Wartie, come with me. We have some pressing questions about these so-called adventurers, and more importantly, for our new system user friend.”