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As I lay there, a black, slick, and gooey slug-like pool, I indulged in a thorough review of my skills, meticulously analyzing every facet. I was piling on passive attacks like a true badass, and oh, let’s not overlook my pair of oh-so-sweet offensive spells, perfect for some ranged havoc. Yet, the deeper I delved, the clearer it became—I had barely scratched the surface of my true potential. Frustratingly, the remaining bosses were my only shot at new skills with the dungeon core gone. Luckily, I had snagged a snack—I mean, a guide—to track them down.
Wait a damn minute!
There were also five other system users lurking around… Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the whole candidate champion farce. Oh, and considering the cave-in that blocked my previous escape route—er, entrance—that whole contest seemed like a total bust. But skills? My hunger for them was insatiable. Skills, skills, skills!
Here, candidates, candidates! Come out wherever you are!
Yeah, I probably should chase down the core, but let’s be real—those Slaethians, or whatever they call themselves, totally trashed an entire dungeon city teeming with people, creatures, monsters, or whatever the hell they want to identify as. So, what was I supposed to do against them in my current state? Not a chance! I needed more skills. You might think it’s all about leveling up, but from what I’ve seen, levels don’t do squat except unlock new skills and skill slots. It feels more like a twisted Battlepass from video games than a real leveling system—I just hope there isn’t some hidden fee to unlock the whole shebang.
No, seriously though, I don’t feel like I’m getting any stronger with each level—not even a tick in mana. It would probably help if I could see my stats, but nope, there’s nothing to analyze; no visible indicators of any increase. The only real boosts I’m finding come from my skills.
Then there are my dreams; the more I try to pin them down, the fuzzier they get. I have this niggling memory of a kind elderly lady and some chick from the Blue Man Group bitching at me to get off my ass and chase down the dungeon core. Then there’s this shadowy figure, but all I see when I shut my eyes are those lifeless eyes—haunting, pulling at me as if they’re screaming for me to find them again. I mean, can a girl get a hint here? I just wish I could unravel what it all means. It’s maddening, like someone’s having a field day wrapping my memories in a pink and blue fog. Ugh, it’s so annoying how dreams can be such a hassle to remember! And it totally sucks to think I might’ve cracked some epic mystery, like unlocking the meaning of life, only to have it vanish the moment I wake up.
Do you know what will make me feel better?
Murdering someone?
Yep!
I chuckled at my own little inner dialogue. Okay, fine! Yes, I joke about developing a split personality, but do I actually have one? No—of course not—yet. I just enjoy reveling in the crazy when I’m all alone with no one else to chat with. Judge me if you will; I don’t care!
Anyway… my Toadinator meal was long gone—oh, and yes, that was a nod to the Baconator. Mmm, mmm, mmm! All I had left to do was reform my body back into something resembling human—only, as an arm slowly began to emerge from my puddle, I noticed a thin film of silk mixing into the form. It was the same silk I had used in the toad’s mouth, now coating my hand like it was a glove... or... skin...
I repositioned my eyes onto the palms of my hands, which were the only parts with any form protruding from my goo puddle—aside from the first arm that was covered with the silk film. At that moment, I must have looked like a snail or slug with its eyestalks emerging from a pool of liquid—or I would have, if not for the fact that it was technically three arms. As bizarre as it appeared, having two arms with eyes on them provided me with a perfect close-up view of the silk clinging to the first arm.
As amusing as I might have looked, I declared it Mighty Polymorphing Time—you know, time to gather myself and morph back into a more recognizable form. Honestly, that little catchphrase sounded way cooler in my head. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right! Frankly, I was growing tired of resembling a horror movie monster, and as I eyed that silk, a brilliant idea struck me on how to resolve that little dilemma.
I retracted my outstretched arms into the liquid pool that was me and deactivated Mana Focus. Taking a moment, I visualized my desired appearance in exquisite detail. With the image firmly anchored in my mind, I channeled my subconscious desire into Polymorph, feeling a surge of power as I ascended from my goop. Every fiber of my being stretched and reshaped, my tar-like goop transforming into a skeletal frame as solid muscle fibers began weaving around it in a spiraling and twisting dance. Although the transformation lasted only a few seconds, it seemed to stretch on, as if time itself had slowed.
When the spell was complete, I opened my eyes to a transformed world, with Mana Focus spontaneously igniting within my newly formed sockets. It was seamless and intuitive; harnessing Mana Focus had become second nature to me. However, glancing down, I was taken aback by the grotesque sight of my tar-coated, zombie-like reflection. My dripping flesh barely clung to the skeletal frame beneath—a stark contrast to the magnificent vision I had intended.
Hell, I had looked far more human—tentacles notwithstanding—before entering the toad’s chamber. Frustration welled within me, igniting an infuriating fit of laughter. I examined my hand, confronting its skeletal appearance and the gaps in the fiber tissue that had failed to manifest properly.
With a heavy sigh, I pondered where my visualization had gone awry. As I mulled over my failed attempt, my attention was drawn to a particular skill: Mana Focus. I realized I had been instinctively using it without a system command, and it had functioned flawlessly. Similarly, I had been employing Polymorph unconventionally when shaping my tentacles. Hell, both skills were passive skills, for fuck’s sake! It was so frustrating to think I had mastered how something worked, only to try it again and fail miserably.
A realization struck me like lightning, and I exclaimed, “Holy shit! I think I’ve figured it out!”
Taking a surprised breath—considering I hadn’t consciously created lungs—I felt reassured by my hypothesis, even as I ignored the irony that I was reinforcing the same concept that had led me to this point. Yet, everything I’d done seemed to circle back to this one principle, reinforcing the idea even further. I despised standardization. If instructions, descriptions, and rules were all unreliable, then perhaps the system itself was merely a training aid for novice magicians.
And there lay my hypothesis: it was all influenced not by knowledge or talent, but by desire, which is fundamentally subconscious. Yeah, it’s a stretch, I know, but hey, you’re talking to a college dropout here—so fuck off!
Still fixated on my hand, I poured my imagination and desire into the transformation, thrilled to see my hand morph into a more familiar form. It was still jet black, a nod to my black pudding essence, but I craved a look that dreamt of my past life—a goth with a ghostly pale complexion. Natural gingers, am I right?
As I revisited my list of skills, Silk Webbing caught my attention. Previously, when I used it inside the toad’s mouth, it had exploded into a chaotic mess rather than creating the heroic comic book scene I’d envisioned. Despite its initial failure to prevent the boss monster from tearing me apart, I recognized its potential usefulness as I observed how the silk film had snugly fitted like a glove over my dark, gooey flesh after pulling my arm from the pool.
This time, I visualized the webbing not as a sticky mess but as delicate silk threads tightly interwoven, forming a protective shell around my pudding flesh and cast…
After numerous attempts and failures, which left the chamber tangled in chaotic silk, I gradually developed a deeper understanding of the skill. It required more than mere imagination and desire—it demanded a profound sense of how it felt to cast the skill to manifest my desires into reality. With the knowledge of how both Polymorph and Silk Webbing felt, I closed my eyes and focused on the sensation, guiding my transformation—
“Hello! You still alive in there?” a voice bellowed into the boss chamber, rudely snapping me out of my groove.
Fucking hell—I was so close to nailing it this time!
Cracking open one eye, I caught the lizard sticking his nosy head through the cracked entrance. As soon as he saw me—no big surprise there, considering I was the only hideous monster with glowing orange eyes standing around—I rolled my eyes and huffed.
“Privacy, ever heard of it?” I muttered under my breath.
Ignoring his interruption, I shut my eyes tighter and focused even harder on my transformation, determined to get it right this time. After all, greatness waits for no lizard-chicken-dinner.
I felt my body elongate slightly, my curves accentuated to my desired proportions, and my hair cascading down my back. With a clear image of my desired face, I channeled my desire into manifesting silky skin, sensing the silk coating my features, creating a protective shell that concealed my true nature. It wasn’t perfect, and I knew I still had much to practice to pass as a convincing human, but there was a sense of accomplishment as I began clapping, even if tinged with self-mockery.
With Mana Focus activated in my hand like my oh-so-favorite, ridiculous selfie stick, I took a closer look at myself. My appearance was far from human, more akin to a female alien, but there was a strange charm to it—a creepy cuteness that I found intriguing.
I donned a black dress that shifted and moved, giving me a demonic vibe. But I hadn’t merely worn the dress—I had shaped my body into it. Every inch of me exuded a deep abyssal black, except for my white silk face, which had a sleekness hinting at an otherworldly allure.
Yeah, I didn’t use as much silk as I had intended at first, but I plan to play with it more later. Anyways! I sort of looked like a succubus, at least in the body, though, as I just said, my face looked almost alien, as if I had undergone one too many Botox procedures.
I knew the vibrant orange glow would further enhance my uniquely creepy beauty once I withdrew Mana Focus back into my newly created eye sockets. To my pleasant surprise, the facial features moved naturally, as if they were my own flesh. I could smile, frown, and even wink—which looked rather horrifying without any eyes. Still, I could cast the full range of expressions despite the tautness of the silk that formed my skin.
It dawned on me that considering the silk as a mere shell coating would be a disservice. If magic operated based on my imagination and desire, then I needed to truly believe the silk was my actual flesh. Yeah, it’s a bit of a stretch, but maybe the deeper I dive into my delusions, the more amazing I’ll become, right? Molding it into any desired appearance might become even easier once I fully believed in its authenticity.
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Now, don’t get me wrong—I still had a long way to go and much more practice to master my newfound understanding of magic’s uniqueness. But I was starting to grasp the essence—or, I suppose you could say, the insight—into it all.
I was gaining insight into a thought that I should be learning my skills without relying on the system, and it got me wondering—could I learn new spells without the system altogether? I secretly longed to cast a lightning bolt, but no matter how vividly I imagined and desired it, there was no accompanying sensation to rely on for its manifestation. Either way, that’s a problem for tomorrow.
It seemed I needed a bit more experience casting spells with the system before I could fully cast without it. Though, Mana Focus and Polymorph did seem pretty easy—or was that because they were passives? Shit! Just when I think I’ve made a step forward in understanding all this bullshit, I take five steps back with one realization! Am I really casting those skills without the system if they’re passives?
To add more confusion, I noticed a distinct difference in the sensations in mana—or perhaps it was more of that insight shit. Was this Oracle or Astral Insight’s doing? Where was I going with this again? Err! One method seemed to tap into the ambient mana present in the surroundings, while the other relied on the internal mana provided by the system itself. Sadly, I couldn’t verify that without any stats to rely on. Though, I suppose you could call it a feeling?
That said, I could see the mana all around me with Mana Focus, and with some of the spells, depending on how I used them, I noticed the mana shift with the casting.
With all this newfound insight—or should I say, contradictions?—buzzing in my mind, my twisted psyche yearned for a more immediate thrill. The next boss beckoned to me with twisted fingers like a demented lover craving my demise. A slow chuckle escaped my lips, gradually picking up into manic laughter. Each laugh felt like a dance with madness. I could almost hear the dark laughter of the long-gone dungeon core echoing back through the twisted corridors and expansive caverns, as if enjoying my descent into blissful insanity.
I slowly stopped laughing, only to smile at Redtail, noticing him gawking at me and my new form. Oh, this was too much fun, like child’s play, or rather, playtime in a deranged nursery. The dungeon husk seemed to play tricks on my senses, as if the darkness was whispering distorted lullabies that made my skin crawl with perverse excitement—or could it just be my insanity talking?
“One, two, I am coming for you. Three, four, better lock your doors. Five, six, grab your wands. Seven, eight, you better stay up late. Nine, ten, you’ll never sleep again,” I hummed to myself in utter glee.
But alas, the journey to the next boss proved disappointingly uneventful, as if the dungeon had forgotten its true purpose—to torment and devour. Instead, I found myself meandering beside my meals-on-tail through corridors that reeked of stale air and decaying hopes. As I continued to traipse through the lifeless dungeon, my gleeful joy turned to boredom.
A swarm of questions gnawed at the recesses of my twisted mind, their razor-sharp teeth sinking into the fragile fabric of my sanity.
What kind of sadistic game were those vampires playing?
What happened to Aurelia? Why am I even thinking about her?
How did the other feeble candidates expect to level up in this empty pit? Have they each become as bored and insane as I, longing for the taste of blood-soaked brutality?
Perhaps I should just eat the lizard now?
The one silver lining of aimlessly wandering through the desolate husk of a dungeon was that we reached the next boss chamber with surprising speed. The steel doors leading into the chamber creaked open as if something had neglected to close them properly behind itself. Peering inside, I found a scene all too familiar—a chamber akin to the previous one. But to my surprise, there was no hidden ledge above the door in this room. I shrugged off the anomaly, my anticipation growing as I entered the chamber, fully prepared to unleash my current favorite spell, Necrotic Flame. I’m sure I’ll replace it with a new favorite soon enough. Yet, to my bewilderment, the chamber was empty, devoid of any boss or formidable adversary. It was a disappointing anticlimax that left me utterly frustrated.
“What the fuck?” I scowled at the lizard. “I’m getting some serious blue balls here! I’m going to need to kill something or someone soon.” I glared at him as if he were that someone—he was!
Redtail gulped nervously, apparently noticing my growing unhinged state. “Some bosses may have started wandering the dungeon on their own now that the core is gone. Some may have even been defeated by another monster or by the Slaethians—”
“Or by those candidates,” I grumbled.
“—and without the core, they won’t respawn,” Redtail finished, not even hearing me.
The next chamber was also a bust, so we ventured further into the dungeon and to the next boss chamber. However, I couldn’t help but notice the recurring anomaly—the boss chambers we encountered were all infuriatingly empty, devoid of any boss or challenge. It was as if the bosses had either been slain and couldn’t respawn without the dungeon core, or they had simply decided to pack up their shit and abandon this place. Whatever the reason, it presented a rather disheartening predicament—I couldn’t level up if there was no boss to fight.
Frustrated, I turned to Redtail for answers, but all I received in response was a nonchalant shrug. I couldn’t discern whether he genuinely had no clue about the situation or if he was simply toying with me, withholding the truth like a sadistic ass.
No, Blake, calm down, he already gave us the reason why...
But it’s so frustrating! If there’s no more bosses, I’m just going to eat him!
After enduring desolate boss chamber after boss chamber, we finally arrived at the entrance of what seemed to be the final boss—a pair of rusted gates guarding the entrance to an ancient coliseum, now reduced to a crumbling ruin. As I cautiously peered through the iron bars, at the heart of the arena stood three towering statues, their Herculean forms frozen in battle-ready stances. Whether chiseled from granite or sculpted from marble, their imposing presence was undeniable.
A tingling thrill of excitement coursed through me. These statues, without a doubt, were the dungeon’s final bosses. With an unnecessary breath, I pushed open the creaking rusted gate, revealing the entrance to the desolate coliseum. Of course, the lizard didn’t even bother to take a step in behind me, instead waiting outside the coliseum.
It was strange; in my previous life, this moment would have invoked sheer terror. But now, in this twisted existence, I found myself inexplicably drawn to these moments of violence.
There was an unsettling aura that permeated the air, sending shivers down my gooey spine. It wasn’t fear that gripped me, but rather an eager anticipation, as if I were on the verge of springing a devious trap. As I cautiously trod across the sand-coated floor, my gaze was drawn to the heaps of collapsed pillars scattered throughout the arena, as if the very foundations of this place had crumbled under the weight of time. Sections of stadium seats were no better, with one segment entirely collapsed into a chaotic mess.
The dome-shaped ceiling, however, remained intact, its surface intricately carved into the very fabric of the dungeon’s cavern system. Glowing crystals lit up the area, which I was indifferent about; between Mana Focus and Thermal, I saw just fine in the dark—though, I hadn’t bothered with the latter in some time.
Yet, the sense of unease continued to intensify. To my bewilderment, I couldn’t help but notice a strange sensation—I was salivating.
My attention was fixated on the colossal statues that loomed in the heart of the arena. Perhaps Herculean didn’t quite capture their true enormity. They were nothing short of gargantuan! In comparison, I stood merely at the height of their upper thighs. As I drew closer, I couldn’t help but notice the detail on these three sculptures, crafted from pristine marble, which stood as testaments to exquisite craftsmanship.
One statue depicted a woman, her form both fierce and graceful. She brandished a massive golden circular shield, bedazzled with shimmering rubies. In her other hand, she grasped a splendid golden spear, akin to those wielded by archangels. Flanking her, the two male statues radiated a sense of raw power. One gripped a golden claymore, its blade adorned with intricate engravings and ornate details. The other statue held a menacing double-ended battleaxe, its presence magnified by mesmerizing carvings. Each weapon seemed to tell its own intricate tale, a testament to the sculptor’s artistry.
But despite their formidable appearances, there was a humorous contrast in their depiction. All three were nude, the cold seemingly unkind to the two male figures in a particularly delicate aspect, leaving little to the imagination and much to my amusement.
I had become so engrossed in the visual spectacle before me that I had momentarily forgotten to rely on my other senses. And it was in that moment of neglect that I was assaulted by a delicious stench that permeated the air, like rotting meat. Before I could fully comprehend the situation, the sandy floor beneath me erupted, unleashing a horde of rotting undead fighters. They emerged from the sand, their decayed bodies armed with rusted weapons, their hollow eyes filled with a hunger for battle.
A sinister thought crossed my mind as they charged toward me with relentless fervor. Their decaying flesh emitted an odious aroma that was strangely alluring. My senses were momentarily overwhelmed by a twisted desire, a dark craving. But I quickly snapped back to reality, reminding myself of the task at hand. I had to fight.
Yeah—fight now, eat later!
A horde of several dozen undead warriors descended upon me with savage intent, their tattered forms moving with an unnatural hunger. It seemed as if they were determined to overwhelm me with sheer numbers, as if wrestling me into a grotesque dogpile was their ultimate goal.
I refused to become their prey! Swiftly, I dodged the swing of a massive mallet aimed at my head, spinning out of harm’s way with a grace that belied my appearance of an alien-looking woman in a dress. Tentacles sprouted from my back in an instant, thrashing outwards with deadly force. With a sickening thud, one undead creature was flattened into the sandy ground, while another met a similar fate at the hands of another tentacle.
Yet, the battlefield still teemed with enemies. Unleashing a primal scream, the world around me was enveloped in a ghastly shade of green with purple flickers. Flames of necrotic energy erupted from my being, consuming everything within a few-meter radius. The searing power of my skill, Necrotic Flame, swept around me, reducing the undead foes’ flesh to smoldering ashes. Their twisted forms collapsed before my eyes, consumed by the relentless fire of my dark magic.
For a few meters in every direction, it was engulfed by a swirling vortex of Necrotic Flame, a maelstrom of dark power that devoured everything in its path. Thankfully, that had only been the first wave, and this battle was far from over. Undead creatures emerged from the sand with relentless determination, their rusted weapons lashing out and their decaying bodies clawing and biting. It was a ceaseless onslaught, an unending cycle of decayed aggression.
Amidst the tumult, I glided with a surreal grace, a benefit of not possessing real bones. My movements mirrored a ballet dancer’s elegance combined with a contortionist’s flexibility, allowing me to effortlessly dodge the clumsy strikes from my undead foes. However, my grace might not have been as refined as I imagined—a few strikes nearly took my head off but passed right through me without so much as touching me, thanks to Ethereal Mist. My approach was like a beacon of Necrotic Flames, engulfing anything that dared come near.
With every fluid motion, tentacles erupted from my body, striking with Corrosive and Venomous fury. Ideally, these tendrils were meant to extend from my back, with some even resembling hair strands, but occasionally, one or two would awkwardly pop out from my tits, much to my chagrin. Doubts lingered about the effectiveness of my Venomous touch against the undead, but in the heat of battle, who had time to worry about those details? That said, with each hit, I felt a soothing sensation wash over me—my guess, Life Drain at work.
Amidst the battle, an unexpected sound reached my ears. It took me a moment to realize it was my voice, softly humming a familiar tune.
Is that... The Safety Dance?
A twisted sense of amusement welled up within me as I continued to dance through the decomposing ranks of the undead, my dark magic and haunting melody blending into a dark symphony of destruction.
But, as the ever-so-cheerful saying goes, all good things must come to an end. The flames that had been my deliciously devastating companions began to flicker and fade. The remnants of the undead creatures, once snugly enveloped in my fiery embrace, now crumbled into char, setting the stage for a new, ghastly horror. From the ashes of my spectacular victory and the burnt remains scattered like a morbid confetti across the arena, a legion of skeletal warriors popped up. Because honestly, let’s be real here, my life’s a never-ending blooper reel—nothing ever goes as I fucking expect it to! Their bony frames clacked and rattled with an unholy fervor, while their empty eye sockets glowed with a sinister green luminescence that just screamed party crashers.
…Shit.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset that the party keeps rocking; no, I’m pissed that all the delicious meat has now turned to ash—what was I thinking, right?
With a surge of frustrated determination, I tried to recast Necrotic Flame, pouring all my desire into the spell. But to my utter dismay—zip, zilch, nada! It looked like I indeed had a system pool, and darn it, it had run dry, leaving me utterly screwed!