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

I was still standing before the exit of the boss chamber, the massive doors firmly sealed, waiting to be thrown open.

My mind was a total circus—thoughts, fears (not that I’d ever admit to them—so much for that Fear immunity), and that damn scene spinning around like a wild carousel. I knew it was just the lingering effects of the weaver’s head games; it had to be. But why did it feel like a punch to the clit?

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but here’s the truth bomb: my childhood wasn’t exactly a sob story. Sure, my stepdad could win an award for World’s Biggest Ass, and maybe my mom was a bit absent. Oh, and yeah, I lost my dad young, but don’t go crafting some dark, twisted villain origin story for me. No creepy uncles, no chains in the basement—shocker, right?

I guess I popped out of the womb with a restless spirit, always chasing the next big thing, holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, the grass was greener on the other side. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. I’ve jumped in and out of more beds than I care to count, always on the hunt for something more—anything to fill that gaping void, pun totally intended. It’s always felt like something was off, like there’s a piece missing inside me—maybe it’s a crack in my soul, or heck, maybe there was never anything there to begin with.

Shaking off thoughts that seemed even more unhinged than my usual brand of crazy—and trust me, that’s setting the bar pretty high—I noticed the status page still glaring at me. There were three new immunities listed that I only vaguely remembered acquiring; it was all such a blur that the details had slipped through my grasp. However, my eyes were inexplicably drawn to Ethereal Awakening, as if it were some kind of lifeline or forbidden fruit.

I let out a huff, half laughter, half despair, and hit cast. Why the hell not? Something in my bones screamed that I needed to know more. Scratch that—I was starving for more!

As quickly as I could blink my eyes—wait, did I even need to blink? I knew I didn’t need to breathe (or so I suspected). Yet here I was, huffing like a high-maintenance bride who didn’t get the cake she wanted—I do that a lot when I’m anxious, not that I’m admitting to any nerves. Nope. Not me. Still, it really made me wonder how much of Polymorph was just my subconscious pulling the strings. But let’s be real, now wasn’t the time to dive into an existential crisis or ponder the mechanics of my shapeshifting. I glanced around, finding myself back in the snowy, eerily picturesque winter wonderland of the forest.

It was still night, and the fire that once roared in the background had dwindled to smoldering embers. Their glow cast eerie shadows across the snow, mingling with the wind-swept flakes to create a hauntingly desolate landscape. No sign of the soldiers remained, only two bodies lying in the crimson-stained snow. I approached with unsteady steps, my heart inexplicably heavy as I passed the man and knelt beside the woman—Aislinn, as the corpse beside her had shouted during the fray. Her lifeless eyes seemed to hold mine, sparking a wave of sadness I couldn’t explain.

With a trembling hand, I brushed back her hair, startled to find myself in the form of my past life, tattoos and all. I quickly shoved that thought aside. What felt even stranger was the touch of her soft, cold skin against my fingers, making this place seem far more real than last time. And suddenly, I found myself in tears once more—that was starting to get really annoying!

“Who are you?” I whispered gently, not understanding why my voice was thick with emotion and why this stranger’s lifeless face would tug so sharply at something deep within me. It seemed my new immunities to Fear, Dread, and Sorrow didn’t do squat against the natural versions of them.

Ugh, that’s such bullshit!

“He’s still breathing,” someone hissed from behind me.

I spun around to find three figures clad in patched-together fur rags standing over the man I had thought was dead.

“Bloody Romans,” one cursed under their breath.

“Do you recognize him?” another asked, their voice tight with concern.

“He’s one of the Iceni, but I can’t place his name,” the third replied. “We should get him back to Queen Boudicca.”

“I don’t think he’ll survive the journey,” the second murmured skeptically.

“We have to try,” the first insisted, their tone firm with resolve.

“What about the girl?”

“Her soul has gone off with the spirits. We need to bandage his wounds and move quickly before the Romans find us.”

There I stood, an unseen presence, eyebrows raised, as I watched the three men strip the man, exposing his brutal wounds in a desperate hope of saving him—but even I knew he was doomed. Their eyes darted around, vigilant and expecting trouble at any moment. I glanced down at Aislinn’s lifeless form. Oddly, the scene before me began to blur, the figures dissolving into the encroaching shadows.

“Shit, he’s stopped breathing!” the closest one shouted, panic tinging his voice. “Damnit, he’s not going to make it.”

The darkness thickened, swallowing the details of the scene until only the forest remained.

“He’s dead,” was the last thing I heard as the shadows retreated, leaving me utterly alone.

I glanced down to where Aislinn’s corpse had been, but there was nothing. Confused, I stepped further into the forest, hoping to uncover more of this elusive scene, desperate to see what came next, to learn why it affected me so deeply.

“I wouldn’t go any further into the woods, dear,” a voice called out from behind me.

By the way, I was seriously getting tired of that happening.

I turned to find an elderly woman staring at me, a pronounced hunch in her twisted back. Her skin was like parchment, one eye clouded and milky, giving her the look of a withered hag. Yet, despite her frail and ancient appearance, the forest seemed to bend around her, the trees almost leaning in as if paying homage. Her tattered black dress fluttered in the breeze, adding to the aura of quiet power she exuded.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“Why not?” I asked curiously, unable to tear my eyes away from her.

“There’s nothing but old nightmares that will haunt your soul the further you go.”

“Old nightmares?”

“Things better left unknown, dear,” she replied with a kind yet sad smile, devoid of any deception or malice. “That being said, I’m very curious how you found your way here.”

“I used a skill called Ethereal Awakening.”

“Fascinating, that’s an Ethereal Horror Weaver’s ability. Though, I do not sense any of them having perished within the Ethereal Plane,” she tilted her head as if verifying what she just stated.

“I—I fought it in a dungeon,” I answered, feeling surprisingly self-conscious. I couldn’t say why; I’ve never hesitated to speak my mind or tell off a boomer when needed, but I liked this old hag for the oddest reason I couldn’t explain.

“Oh, well, that explains a great deal. Still, I haven’t seen one of your kind here in so, so very long,” she stared at me with that clouded eye as if she were looking at my very soul. “So very long,” she all but whispered.

“Um, okay? What is this place?” I asked, unsure what to make of that. “And what was it that I just witnessed?” I added, trying to collect my thoughts.

“Just think of this part of the forest and all you’ve seen as a bad dream, deeply rooted in your very soul, dear. That said, it seems your time here is about to come to an end,” she said with a kind yet pained smile. As she spoke, the trees moved around her, shading her as she disappeared into the shadows of the forest. “I’m sorry I don’t have time to tell you more, but you’re wanted elsewhere,” her voice echoed from nowhere and yet everywhere.

I turned, sensing something immensely beyond my comprehension behind me, and yet, I could only feel a bit disgruntled at everyone sneaking up on me like it was some cosmic prank.

“There you are,” the—at times, third—voice in my head chimed in, sounding both annoyed and condescending.

My eyes landed on a translucent woman’s hand made of swirling soft blue mist with flickers of pink vapor, reaching out of nothingness.

“I have need of you, my Hopeless Crusader,” she continued in that smug tone, you know, the one Karens use to address those they find beneath them. “Time to wake up and grow—quickly, if you are to be of any use. My patience only goes so far if I’m to take advantage of what’s already started. Complete your task, and ascension shall be yours.”

And then, much to my annoyance and surprise, she flicked me in the forehead, sending me tumbling onto my ass.

“Ouch!” I reached up with a gooey black hand, rubbing my forehead. “What the fuck, you bitch,” I swore as I glared up, only to find the imposing iron doors of the Bat Cave before me.

“No time to dwell on old memories of a past you’ll never remember,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension, which only added to my confusion. But what came next really pissed me off.

V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE

AdminSystemOverride

Admin:\Magic>Login_

System Access Granted [SAG]

USER_Skills_Override.

Deleting: [Ethereal Awakening]

Reconfiguring...

Data Accepted.

Skill Deleted.

Reinitializing Character Skills...

Used Skill Point Returned.

_

V:\ActivateSpell_Override

[Stellar Void]

Description: Summon a pocket dimension by tearing through the veil into the void, creating an ephemeral space between realities where the normal laws of physics are suspended.

Status: Inactive

Type: Unique

Activation: Cast

[Stellar Void] is now set as an active-cast.

V:\>

“You’ve got to be shitting me! What the actual fuck is this?” I yelled into the air, hands on my hips. Now, knowing without a doubt that the voice I’d often heard in my head wasn’t just a sign of mental illness—though, let’s be real, that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. I now knew who it was: an admin, this Magic bitch. “I don’t consent!” I screamed, throwing my arms up and adding an exaggerated eye roll for emphasis.

Silence. No snarky comeback, no omnipotent retort. Just me, sitting on my ass in the boss chamber, glaring at the closed exit. Or was I alone? In my righteous tirade, I’d overlooked one tiny, inconvenient detail.

I glanced down at my waist and spotted a long, pink, tongue-like tentacle wrapping around me.

What the hell?

I twisted around to find the treasure chest from the center of the room, now wide open, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

“Oh, you’ve got to be—”

Its tongue yanked me off my ass, cutting my bitching short as it dragged me toward its gaping maw.

~

Redtail paced in front of the boss chamber’s massive iron doors, his steps heavy with growing worry. Doubts about the slime’s survival clawed relentlessly at his conscience. Initially, he had wished for its demise—it seemed far-fetched that some mythical system user from legend would swoop in to save them all.

But this slime wasn’t just any system user; it was a Precursor, a herald to a world that hadn’t yet joined the Moons of Völuspá. That reality he couldn’t ignore, especially after witnessing his own homeworld’s dramatic convergence with this damnable realm.

Now, the stakes were entirely different. The slime needed to survive, not for itself, nor even for his own sake in retrieving the dungeon core, but for its people. As Drake Redtail continued his anxious pacing, the weight of guilt increasingly pressed down on his shoulders. He was many things, but he would not doom an entire race—even if they were all slimes—by letting their Precursor perish. The guilt from his earlier intentions mixed with a growing sense of urgency, deepening the lines of worry etched into his drakaran face.

Redtail jumped, scales almost shaking loose, as the two doors burst open! A wave of green flames, tinged with flickers of purple, surged from the chamber, forcing him to stumble back. The force and suddenness knocked him off his feet, sending him sprawling to the cold stone floor to narrowly avoid the inferno. Though the flames came perilously close, they radiated no heat; instead, a chilling wave of death mana emanated from the fire.

Gazing into the chamber, he saw a dark, feminine figure approaching. Initially, he had dismissed her as an it—a mere slime—but now she appeared more elven-like, albeit without the majestic pointy ears, her features instead bearing the rounded simplicity akin to dwarfs and hyumans. Yet, she retained her slick, shiny black exterior, giving her a menacing aura as she walked unscathed through what could only be necrotic fire, emerging from the doorway like a dark goddess reborn.

Swallowing his fear, Redtail managed to ask the obvious, “I take it you won?”

Her response came with a glare that could curdle blood, her haunting, glowing orange eyes pinning him like an insect. “I. Fucking. Hate. Mimics!” she growled furiously. “Please tell me that’s the last of those fuckers in this dungeon!”

“S-Sadly, no. This dungeon teems with them, though most should have perished when the dungeon core was removed. But a few of the stronger ones might still linger,” Redtail replied, each word cautious, his body tensing for any backlash.

“Fuck!” she exploded, then quickly regained composure. “It’s fine, Blake. Yeah, it’s fine. No, it’s not fine! Yes, it is, I said it is, so it’s fine,” she muttered to herself, a bizarre self-reassurance that made Redtail edge away, only to freeze at her next command.

“I need something to beat the shit out of,” she hissed. “Lizard! Where’s the next boss? I’d prefer something that doesn’t mess with my head! I just want a clean fistfight.”

Redtail blinked, processing her demands. “Umm—wouldn’t it be best to guide you to the dungeon exit?”

“Boss!” she snapped impatiently.

“The Red Toad should be a straightforward brawl, but it’s closer to the entrance.”

“Don’t care, take me now!”

“Y-Yes,” Redtail stammered, nodding eagerly yet fearfully as he clambered back to his feet.