image [https://i.imgur.com/xcQhW8Y.jpg]
“Welcome back, dear,” the familiar elderly woman spoke, her voice enveloping me like a warm blanket. “We never did finish our little chat, did we?”
I propped myself up, brushing snowflakes off my I Decapitate Teddy Bears t-shirt. As I scanned the forest, my gaze inevitably met hers—her eyes, one as clear as frost, the other milky and unnerving, pierced not just the tough psycho-bitch facade I show the world—you included—but the very essence of my soul.
In that moment, I realized she wasn’t looking at me, but at the scared, broken little girl I had hidden even from myself. It’s not that someone hurt me; I was simply born this way, as if a part of me was always missing. I tried to look away, yet found myself utterly ensnared, unable to break the connection.
“Am I dead or hallucinating? How am I back here?” I asked. “That admin bit—” I paused, biting back a swear word in front of her for some reason I couldn’t quite pinpoint, and doubted it would last. “—she deleted Ethereal Awakening from my skills, so how am I here?”
“Oh, that little detail, dear,” she chuckled. “That skill only showed you the path, but the Realm of Dreams is open to all who know how to find their way. You just need to close your eyes and drift off to find your way here.”
“Or get knocked the fuck out,” I muttered.
Ha! See, the no-swearing didn’t last long at all! Ugh! Why does it feel like I’m in front of my grandma or perhaps a cool old auntie? You know, the kind who doesn’t have a bowl of ten-year-old butterscotch candies melted together in the living room.
“Who... are you?” were the next and only words I could find, emerging as nothing more than a whisper.
She smiled, though pain shadowed the gesture. “I’m just an ancient relic, dear, mostly forgotten. Yet, I do my best to look after the forgotten and their dreams, and to keep this old place from collapsing,” she gestured broadly at the surrounding forest.
I followed her gesture, gazing at the trees and the shadows they cast, which seemed deeper against the clear blue sky overhead. The forest felt all the more imposing, hinting at mysteries far beyond the snow-caked branches. My mind swirled with the memory of what I had witnessed, the image of that woman’s lifeless eyes haunting me anew with each recollection. Yet, it was something else she had mentioned before that now rose to my lips.
“What did you mean when you said it’s been so very long since you last saw someone like me here?”
There was a pause as the old woman reached up to tap her withered lips with a long, bony finger, searching for the right words. “Just what I said, dear. You are the first of your kind to visit the ethereal in so very long. But!”—she held out that same finger—“That doesn’t mean you are the first of your kind I’ve seen recently,” she smiled, her expression suggesting that this revelation should hold significant meaning for me.
It didn’t.
If I had to guess, this old hag had probably seen one of the others I was supposedly competing against to become some lame Champion. No big revelation there! She might have also seen others summoned from Earth, or perhaps she was referring to black puddings? Either way, it didn’t really matter to me. No, my thoughts were still consumed by that woman, Aislinn, whom I had seen here, her lifeless gaze continuing to haunt me.
As if merely thinking it summoned the sound, I heard it again, “RUN!” that same man bellowed from behind me.
I turned to find him and her, running. Only now, I found myself paying more attention to the situation, more captivated than ever. The Ethereal Horror Weaver wasn’t messing with me—this was me wanting to see more, to learn more. Details I had missed before stood out sharply: how Aislinn’s leg was broken, how she leaned against the man for support, and… how she protectively cradled her stomach.
“That’s enough torturing yourself, dear,” the hag remarked, and suddenly the scene evaporated away.
“No!” I gasped, lunging toward where the nightmare had lingered, ignoring the hag’s warning. As I ventured deeper into the woods, the forest morphed around me, transforming into a desolate sandy beach. A lone figure, a Japanese man dressed like a peasant or beggar from a distant past, staggered under the moonlight, his movements erratic and filled with despair.
Collapsing to his knees, he drew a rusted dagger, its blade catching the moon’s gleam. With a guttural cry, he drove it deep into his abdomen, his face contorted in agony as blood soaked the sand. The scene dimmed, swallowed by darkness, echoing the finality of death.
Abruptly, a new horror unfolded: a woman, bound to a stake in some medieval village square amidst a jeering crowd. Their faces twisted with hate as they hurled rotten vegetables at her. Tomatoes burst against her tear-streaked face, cabbage leaves sticking to her hair. As the pyre at her feet was set ablaze, her screams cut through the clamor, a soul-shattering sound that pierced the air until the flames enveloped her, and her cries were stifled by the thick smoke of her own burning flesh. Darkness crept in once more, snuffing out the scene.
Scene after gruesome scene unfolded before me—men and women from different eras from Earth’s past, each condemned to die, each death more harrowing than the last. They died alone, betrayed, or were viciously executed for being outcasts, but more often than not, they met their end by their own hands. I was engulfed in their agony, each death resonating through me as if I were suffering alongside them, yet I could not fathom why. A haunting sense persisted that something vital had been missing from their lives, something that had eternally alienated them from those around them.
“That’s enough, dear,” the hag kindly warned, pulling me back to the present moment.
I turned to face her, my cheeks slick with tears, expecting to confront the familiar visage of an aged hag. Instead, I was met by the unexpectedly youthful and beautiful appearance of a woman in her late thirties. Her smile, warm yet shadowed by an unmistakable trace of sorrow, seemed to beckon my soul. As she enveloped me in a deep, nurturing hug, a deluge of pent-up emotions burst forth. It was as if the dams within me had shattered, releasing the accumulated grief and memories of a hundred lifetimes. I clung to her, sobbing uncontrollably into her shoulder, each tear washing away fragments of the profound anguish that had weighed so heavily upon my soul.
“W-What was all of that?” I mumbled into the crook of her shoulder.
“They were all you—past lives, playing out like a cruel nightmare,” she revealed.
“Past... Past lives? Like reincarnation?” I stuttered, my voice trembling with disbelief. “So—so, am I fated to suffer?” I cried out, the weight of the revelation crushing me.
“No, dear. There were good lives, too,” she soothed.
I lifted my gaze, finding the landscape transformed once again. Clutching her tightly, I braced myself for another nightmare, ready to feel the suffering as though I were living it anew. Yet, out of all the horrors I had just witnessed, this was the first scene where I didn’t feel the anguish of watching someone endure a lonely and sad existence only to die alone.
It was from a far earlier time than any other era I had witnessed—perhaps ancient Egypt or even Babylon? It featured an elderly couple embracing in love and happily holding each other’s hands. It seemed they had lived a wonderfully loving life together. Unlike the previous scenes, there were no signs of being outcasts, no traces of despair or depression. Instead, they were surrounded by loved ones, their children, and grandchildren all present. Together, the couple gradually closed their eyes, and the scene faded away as they serenely let go of life.
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A few more similar scenes unfolded, each marked by tranquility rather than tragedy. What they had in common was striking—they all stemmed from the distant, ancient pasts, predating that fateful moment in the snow-covered forest.
That’s when it all hit me: there was a convergence moment, a turning point where my fate had shifted towards endless suffering and despair, living life after life in hopelessness as an outcast. The scene shifted back to Aislinn lying on the ground, her lifeless gaze returning to haunt me.
“Who was she?” I whispered.
“I can’t say for sure without meddling around in your soul, and that’s far too harmful to attempt,” she replied, pulling back from me to gently brush the tears from my face.
That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. I didn’t understand what she meant by meddling with my soul; my mind was a fog of sorrow and grief, struggling to comprehend much else. Yet, I pressed on with a different question, “Who… are you?”
A soft, gentle smile crossed her face as she finally answered, “My name is—”
“Dusk, what did I say?” a familiar voice that set my nerves on edge called out from within the forest.
“It’s Duskara,” she sighed. “She found her own way here. I had no part in it,” she called back to the woods, her voice tinged with frustration. “But I don’t see how that matters. I had a claim to her first.”
“Claim?” I growled, stepping back from her, feeling instantly betrayed.
“No, not—” Duskara began, reaching out toward me.
But her words were cut off as laughter echoed through the forest, a sound both enchanting and eerie. Suddenly, a nude figure materialized as if woven from the very essence of mana. Her skin was a shimmering tapestry of blue vapor, adorned with swirling wisps of iridescent pink that flickered in and out of existence like phantoms. Her hair cascaded in a vibrant cascade of predominantly pink, interspersed with streaks of celestial blue, flowing around her like a nebula. However, it was her eyes that truly captivated and unnerved: they glowed a brilliant, intense pink, radiating an otherworldly light that seemed to pierce through the veil of reality.
“Magic,” I hissed.
“Little girl,” she replied, her voice flat and unamused. “If you want your due reward, do as I tasked you and retrieve that core! Now, wake up and remember nothing,” she scowled. “And Dusk, stay away from her.” With a dismissive flick of her wrist, Magic snapped her fingers.
In an instant, it was as though I had awakened from a long, disorienting dream. No longer human, I had reverted to my true slime form, now merely a puddle of goo in the center of the boss chamber, surrounded by a dizzying three-hundred-degree view.
“Great, just what I needed,” I groaned, hastily morphing a set of eyes to quell the vertigo—all while still remaining a puddle. But before I could fully grasp this abrupt return to consciousness, a flashing system notice cut in, demanding my immediate attention with an urgency that brooked no delay.
V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE
BattleResult
Enemy Defeated Dungeon Boss: [Toad Barbarian]
Level Up!
Level Up!
Level Up!
Level Up!
Current Level: 25
Level Milestone Achieved [LMA]
Unlocked Immunity: [Sleep]
Next Milestone at Level: 30
_
Initiate [Absorb] on [Toad Barbarian]?
> YES
> NO
V:\>
I was still waking up as I glanced over the notification, feeling as if I were shedding the remnants of a stubborn dream. Like most dreams, the details were already fading into a murky haze. Yet, the persistent buzz of a system notification acted like a cold splash of water, forcefully yanking me back to reality. Without that incessant nagging, I’d probably be utterly adrift. As my vision cleared, it revealed a scene straight out of a low-budget horror film. There I was, nonchalantly oozing through the remains of our dearly departed Toadinator. The fight had cost me an arm and... well, much more.
I really need to gather my scattered pieces to reabsorb them.
Devouring the leftovers proved unexpectedly delightful, momentarily erasing all recollections of the recent chaos—like an irrelevant dream clouding my fantastic reality. The melee was a crude reminder: in this world, it wasn’t about survival of the fittest but evolution through excessive violence. The price was exorbitant, paid in blood, guts, and the occasional lost limb.
Just another day at the office.
I closed my eyes as the fragments of my dream—or was it a nightmare?—played in my head. I languidly stretched out, savoring the remnants of what had been a dream where I was a monster brimming with power and ruthlessness, utterly devoid of mercy... Suddenly, my eyes snapped back open, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with shock.
Instinctively, a set of arms emerged from my puddled body, each hand cradling an eye, while the rest of me remained a sticky black puddle on the floor. I looked like a snail emerging from a tar pit, my eyes darting independently in their sockets.
Holy shit!
I was startled as my snail-like eyes briefly crossed paths, revealing glowing orange orbs. Halting my impromptu eyeball juggling—I mean, examination—I redirected my attention to the room. I was inside a large, circular stone chamber with not one, but two exits.
Wasn’t there just one before?
I remembered being knocked out during the battle. Thankfully, I think it was the combination of Blight and Necrotic Flame that finished the Toadinator off. I glanced back at the notification and mentally clicked yes to activate Absorb.
V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE
SkillUpdate
[Absorb] [Toad Barbarian] Successful
New Selectable Skills Available:
- [Burst]
- [Fortress]
- [Leap]
- [Shield Proficiency]
V:\>
“Shit yeah, four new skills,” I gurgled out from my puddle form.
Ugh... These new skills seem tailored for physical combat, but what I truly crave is pure magical might—the kind of overwhelming firepower that leaves nothing but ashes in its wake. Still, I’m loving my passives. I’d also kill for some more skill points because, as it stands, these new skills feel utterly useless without the points to unlock them.
“Well, I suppose there’s a silver lining in all of this,” I grumbled, my voice tinged with resignation. “At least I don’t have to waste any points on acquiring sleep immunity. Small victory, I suppose.”
That being said, in the back of my mind, there lingered a nagging suspicion about the benefits of gaining immunity to Sleep. Could it mean no need for sleep at all, and more importantly, no more dreams?
As that thought began to fade—almost as if someone or something outside my control was steering my thoughts away—I turned my attention to the description of my new skills.
V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE
SkillDetails
[Burst]
Description: Propel oneself at tremendous speed in a specified direction for a short burst.
Status: Inactive
Type: Ability
Activation: Cast
Select [Burst]?
> YES
> NO
_
[Fortress]
Description: Fortify your defenses.
Status: Inactive
Type: Ability
Activation: Cast
Select [Fortress]?
> YES
> NO
_
[Leap]
Description: Propel oneself upward in a specified direction.
Status: Inactive
Type: Ability
Activation: Cast
Select [Leap]?
> YES
> NO
_
[Shield Proficiency]
Description: The passive knowledge to proficiently guard against incoming attacks.
Status: Inactive
Type: Ability
Activation: Passive
Select [Shield Proficiency]?
> YES
> NO
V:\>
I had to admit, acquiring skills was addictively thrilling, even if I lacked the skill points to unlock them all. I’d have to check with the lizard how many dungeon bosses were left before I could exit this dungeon. There was a pressing need to hurry and retrieve that core—though I wasn’t quite sure why, the urge was undeniable. Yet, I resisted the impulse; no, I wanted more skills first.
Where else could I acquire them?
Ah, the candidates were also system users, ripe for the picking.
A chuckle bubbled up from my liquid form.
Oh, those poor little candidates won’t know what hit ’em.
However, despite my internal musings, there was a nagging sense that something was seriously off. Deep in my subconscious, something was broken. Only the faintest recollection of that dream would surface when I wasn’t actively thinking about it, as if a spell or barrier had been slapped over my brain. It was like trying to recall a song’s lyrics when you only remember the annoying jingle.
Ugh, what the hell is going on with me?