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

As if shaking off a strange dream, my mind tingled with numbness, memories already starting to blur. Visions of a skeleton kid, murmurs about Titans and gods, and a man’s desperate cry echoed in my head.

I’m sure it’ll all make sense eventually... or not.

Buried beneath a mountain of stone and dirt, I was reduced to nothing more than a pitiful puddle of slime. Every inch of my gooey-esque body seethed with pain, all thanks to that oh-so-wonderful spell that had the nerve to blindside me. To pile on the misery, there was no notification to Absorb the orc’s corpse. Had I even caught a glimpse of a death notification before Puppy Chow catapulted me into Dream La La Land? His skill was shocking; it really zapped all my passives and immunities into a fritz in a flash, like a bolt out of the blue—or was it purple?—a real zip! And yes, I can keep cracking these lightning puns all blasted day. They’re just thundering around in my head (cloud, maybe?).

I’m such a fucking idiot!

Earlier, I’d been all high and mighty, convinced I had the upper hand. Thought I could wipe the floor with them, right? Instead, I let myself believe I was invincible, only to have my ass royally handed to me by one damn spell—Death Bolt.

—I want it!

And seriously—where’s the orc’s corpse?! I’m not joking. It better be around here, or... or I’ll kill someone—again!

Yeah, fear me!

“Ugh, Blake, you’re so pathetic,” I gurgled out from my goo.

With a groan, I began the delightful task of oozing out from under the avalanche of debris that had entombed me. It turns out that navigating through fallen rubble as a slime is quite a cinch. In what felt like less than three hours—or was it three days? My timekeeping’s a joke—but who’s really keeping track? Anyway, I was free. Free at last. Thank—nah, I won’t be thanking any god or goddess. Fuck that!

I swiftly began reconstructing my body, marveling at how much easier and more fluid shapeshifting had become with each iteration. While the days of my creepy-cute alien appearance were not entirely behind me—I rather liked that look—I now assumed the form of an alluring human woman, reminiscent of the actress I dripped over the most, with succubus-like curves.

Weaving my Silk Webbing back together had become a seamless task—though it remained entirely subconscious. Whenever I tried to force it, the results were less than pretty. As I reformed, I made subtle adjustments to my attire, though it adopted a slightly different style with each reshaping. The intricate details, such as crafting my silk face or adorning my outfit with sinuous, writhing tendrils, flowed effortlessly. It was as if my skills possessed a will of their own, guiding my artistic choices with a twisted elegance, only screwing up when I tried to take control.

That being said, I was starting to notice that I could use the skills without the system’s hand-holding, though this was mostly for the passive ones. But here’s a sneaky suspicion—or, let’s just call it an insight—that I might also be able to extend this newfound independence to my casting skills. Seeing all the mana swirling around me and understanding how my skills interacted with it made me suspect I could manipulate it directly. This could potentially wipe out my issues with running out of system mana. Plus, there’s this vague memory from a dream hinting that I could actually control the mana around me. How badass would that be?

Stretching my arms, I immediately fell to my knees in defeat when I realized I couldn’t find the orc’s corpse beneath all this debris. That battle had been an absolute disaster, and to make matters worse, the corpse! Yes, I know I’m repeating myself, but seriously—the corpse! I wanted to sob over the lost opportunity for a new skill.

However, my primary goal remained unchanged: kill the rest of them before retrieving Magic’s little orb she wants so badly. Also, I probably should work on my idea of mastering spellcasting without being dependent on the system. It seemed like a straightforward task, but executing it in the heat of combat might prove to be a pain in the ass. Hopefully, it’s as intuitive as the passive skills.

Luxuriating in another big stretch and a delightful sigh, I managed to shake off the last pesky remnants of that spell’s jitters lingering in my body. I took a step out of the boss chamber, having to squeeze myself supernaturally thin to make it through—probably should have waited to take human form until after I was out, seeing as I had to reform myself again. Once free, I froze with a large frown on my face.

“Um, which way did they go?”

Frustrated, I reactivated Thermal. I admit, I probably should use this one more often... or better yet, could I use it with Mana Focus at the same time? Setting that idea aside for later, my world transformed into a surreal palette of gray with splashes of white. I scanned the ground, hoping to find footprints or something, and sure enough, a trail of white spots led right up to a nearby boulder. Um, white indicates warmth, if you didn’t know—well, at least I think it does? It could also be a sign of mana in... Thermal? Okay, maybe not. Either way, the boulder was covered in fresh, little, white handprints, as if someone were hiding behind it.

Stolen novel; please report.

With a simple flex of my arm, it contorted and morphed into a grotesque black tentacle, slithering and writhing as it eagerly searched for the source of heat. At least I could polymorph without those pesky system commands—a small victory in my quest for might.

Suddenly, a startled yelp shattered the silence as the tentacle found its target. As I reeled it back toward me, a rush of anticipation surged through me, the primal desire for fresh blood and flesh tantalizingly stirred. Sure, I have a fondness for rotten meat, but fresh blood has its own allure—and don’t even get me started on the succulent intestines! My figurative heart raced with excitement, and a sadistic grin spread across my face. I pondered the new depths of depravity I could reach, reveling in the thought of killing, savoring the intoxicating power and control as I prepared to commit even more gruesome acts. But as my prey came into view, the horrifying truth struck me—the tentacle had ensnared a small goblin... just a mere child.

However, for a moment, a conflicted feeling washed over me. The thought of preying on such innocence was disturbing. But my insatiable hunger, my thirst for power and dominance, overpowered any hint of compassion or remorse. I couldn’t let this opportunity slip away, no matter how small and insignificant my meal might be.

As I raised my tentacle, the child’s wide, innocent eyes met mine, filled with a gleeful and trusting gaze. A pang of guilt pierced through the darkness, a flicker of my lost humanity reminding me of the atrocities I was about to commit. Yet, the hunger and bloodlust prevailed, extinguishing any remnants of empathy. With a cruel smile, I steeled myself to finish what I had started, determined to satisfy my insatiable appetite, regardless of the consequences.

Ugh, but it’s just that kid… damn it!

Isn’t he like a forty or fifty-year-old kid?

Hmm… Something like that. Gandolf the Werewolf did imply this entire reality is like one big Neverland, didn’t he?

So, you can imagine my disappointment when I released the little shit. Frustrated, my annoyed voice tinged, I asked, “Wartie, what in hell are you doing here?”

“Doodles and me follow, Muddy.”

In his small palm, the goblin held up a square cube, revealing a tiny gelatinous cube monster that jiggled about, and to my surprise, with a soft and squeaky voice, it cried out, “Kill me!”

It talks?

“Right, Blake, I forgot about Polyglot,” I mused to myself.

Oh, yeah! I remember that cube now.

“No, I Wartie, not Bleak. What ill polywater?” replied the goblin child.

“Oops!” I sighed, realizing that I had let my thoughts slip out without intending to.

“What wrong?” Wartie asked, his large saucer eyes filled with concern.

“Nothing to see here, just thinking aloud... Anyway! Did you happen to see four shady adventurers leaving this chamber while carrying a savory-looking, uh, I mean, a headless dead body?” I refused to acknowledge that they weren’t adventurers but instead my fellow competitors in a trial to become the Dark Champion.

I doubted they actually took the corpse; it was probably still buried within the boss chamber—and I really didn’t want to spend hours digging for it when I could be hunting down the others. Besides, the dog-faced one had the skill I wanted the most.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“And,” I replied with forced calm, my patience already thin.

“And?”

The small cube continued to jiggle in the goblin’s hand, letting out squeaking pleas, “Kill me!”

“And... which way did they go?” I asked through gritted teeth as I ignored the cube.

“They go too deep roads. It deep below.”

“Didn’t your Warchief mention the entrance to the deep roads or something?”

“Uh-huh,” he said while swaying back and forth on his heels.

“Did you hear them say anything as they went by?”

“Uh-huh.”

For fuck’s sake, I’m gonna tear him apart! I paused to take a deep breath. My moral compass may be a bit skewed, but even I have my limits when it comes to killing children. But wait, he’s not a child, just a goblin with the appearance and mindset of one.

Argh!

Fine, I won’t murder the little bastard.

Well…

“Imp, uh, I mean, Wartie, can you tell me what they said?” I asked, my patience hanging by a thread.

“Okay… Umm, but only four, no headless. They say, trial over, quitting, finding own exit, they say.”

I was left in a state of total frustration. If those adventurers didn’t have the body of the deceased candidate, then it was buried—and I really, really didn’t want to dig it up. To make matters even more perplexing, they were quitting the trial altogether. I mean, I didn’t give two shits about the vampires’ little trial either, but they can’t just run away before I get my chance to kill them. That just wasn’t fair!

“I’m going to fight those big evil adventurers who killed you,” I smiled darkly.

Wartie’s eyes burned with fiery determination as he proclaimed, “Revenge!”

“Kill me!” the tiny gelatinous cube cried out.

“Umm… Wartie, can you hear your little pet cube speaking?” I asked.

“Muddy silly, Doodles cannot speak,” the kid laughed.

The tiny cube jiggled in the goblin’s palm and emitted a high-pitched squeak, “End my misery!”

I gazed upon the tiny wobbling cube and uttered, “I see... Well, you take good care of Doodles. I’m leaving. Places to go, adventurers to kill,” I waved as I turned my back to the goblin.

“I come!” he shouted out.

FUCK!

“Oh no, you’re not!” I growled.

I spun around, my hair morphing into a large tentacle, slamming into the green bastard with tremendous force. He spun through the air in a blur of speed, the little cube howling with glee as the two slammed into the wall with a sickening splat.

Um… which way is it to the deep roads?

FUCK!

A long moment passed as I realized my mistake a bit too late. But to my relief, the little shit sat up, holding his head and groaning. A squeak of sorrow echoed from the cube, which, annoyingly, had also survived.

“Ugh. What. What happen?”

Think, Blake! Think!

“Those people I’m hunting surprised attacked us, but they got away,” I nodded a bit too emphatically. “Hurry, you need to show me the way to the deep roads so we can catch up to them and get our revenge!” I smiled.

“Then I can kill you!” I whispered to myself.

Oh, yes!