After the system alert, the dungeon was eerily silent, devoid of its core. As I stalked through what remained, I entered 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 turo pinpoint the sound, I found nothing. I’m not saying I was terrified or scared of fronting that mimic chest again; it’s just that I prefer not to... yeah, it’s a preferehing. Ha. Ha. Ha...
Still, the strewn-about carcasses provided a rather delicious bounty of meals. Regrettably, my attempts to use Absorb on them sistently 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 py 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 st time I did this, I got the impression that using Polymorph was more intuitive off my subscious than actually trying to force myself to shapeshift. That got me w if all magic was like that or not.
“Oh, it is.”
—Seriously, who keeps talking?!
I gnced all around, but muy 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 poihat st part was a lie. Still, I was starting to get ed for my sanity. Yeah, I often talk to myself, and maybe talk back while answering a few of my owions, but this 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 ibalism—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 subscious 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 ht hours. It’s not like I have a watch or the sun to go by, and I bnk out a lot when I’m messing around with the system and my skills.
Anyway, after what felt like ay, 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 fog 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 ’t do it on and, but you see someone else doing it, or you sort of think about it in the back of your mind, and the hing you know, you’re yawning. Well, the hing I knew, I was reag 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 mao 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. Gng 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 aacles running all along my body, holding it together—it’s not too horrifying to look at if you ignore all the wiggling.
Gng around, I noticed a smooth stohat was rather shiny, like obsidian. Walking over to it on unsteady legs, I got a good look at my refle. The first thing I noticed were my eyes—they were glowing e. I wasn’t sure if I was seeing the mana within my eyes or if they were truly emitting an e luminesce, given that Mana Focus didn’t fun the same way as normal eyesight. Either way, seeing the glow on a bck, skull-like, gooey face was rather terrifying, even without a mouth.
The hing I noticed was something I’d given myself without meaning to. I was wearing a hat? Well, a rge bck mushroom cap stood upon my head. Apparently, I must have been subsciously 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 o 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 approag. The sight filled me with both irritation aion. However, I was a bit fused by the appearance of the same goblin whose head I had eaten. Cog my head from side to side, I stared at the creature, w 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 excimed, firming my suspi; it was ihe same goblin, but how? “I need help. You help. You my pet. Yes. Yes. I name you… Muddy! Yes?” the goblin o 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 getinous cube close to his body.
“P-Please, kill me,” the cube squeaked, but the goblin, apparently oblivious, tinued.
“Me Wartie. We go now. To Ockpool. Bad attack happened. With you, I help!” the goblin added.
I ’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 pce called Ockpool. Which, by the way, I thought I was already at, si 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 tender for the title of dark champion, locked in a twisted petition 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 dy store.
However, I’d also been offered a quest to retrieve the Ockpool Dungeon Core, with the reward of Assion. I’m irely 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 ibalism—yeah… that seems legit. Still, how did this happen? I guess being reinated as a bck pudding really screws with one’s moral pass. But the scariest part? I was having a bst! It’s not every day you get to indulge in the darker, sadistic side of life without any apparent sequehere are no sequences, 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 teicality. 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 do it, why ’t I?
The thought of dev children was tempting, yet the more I sidered it, the more it felt like I gued with a serious case of iion. 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 airely different cavern than before, and it was enormous—a true sight to behold. I peeked around like a tourist, my head topped with a bck 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 wao random thoughts.
Am I on another p, universe, or in a differey altogether?
The idea of being reborn oh in a future where magic existed seemed farfetched but not impossible. However, something I read in the description of my Polyglot skill ehat speaster all nguages spoken across the Moons of V?luspá.
The Moons of V?luspá. Am I on a moon?
Oh, the possibilities!
As for my current state of mind, had I bee a psychopath? I keep ing back to this questioe already knowing the answer. It was as if I wao deny it, yet at the same time, I was gleefully excited about it. Yeah, I’m a hypocrite. But did I want to bee 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 ahat question?
That all being said—or thought about—my mi cirg back to a certain vampire. Yeah, I know it’s too soon to sider 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 being a stalker? Well, if so, at least they don’t have restraining orders in this reality, so it should be all good.
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 o find the core befoing on a killing spree.
“It’s good. Ao hurt me. Me got prote from Doodles,” Wartie excimed as he held out the slime cube like a puppy he wao 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 mao clutch my hand on his attempt.
“You ready, Muddy?” he asked.
Ready for what? And stop calling me Muddy!
“e, Muddy, entrance over here,” he tinued, draggioward an ominous tunrance I was certain hadn’t been there before. All the while, Doodles shook beh the goblin’s other arm.
Well, this should be iing.
Little did this goblin know, he was leading a psychopath with a taste for flesh by the hand. It jured up the image of someone holding Freddy Krueger’s hand, leading him into their home. The thought made me so myself.
Still, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of annoyand disgust that I hadn’t killed this goblihat also got me w how he had e back to life. I really should have thought about that earlier, but I had a lot on my mind. Regardless, I swore upon ay 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:\Assion>SAFE_MODE
TitleUpdate
The Auxiliary Admin has reized your ridiculously pathetic vow and deemed it unworthy.
Title Awarded: [Hopeless Crusader]
_
TitleDetails
[Hopeless Crusader]
Description: Grants unparalleled profi mastering all system skills, fueling a seemingly futile quest with relentless determination and a touadness.
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 admiy, or whatever to listen in on my thoughts and then award me a Title as if to mock me when I half-heartedly threatehem while venting. Although the description of it seemed rather badass, even if it was ridig me—I’ll take it. Still, I o 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. e, boy, go inside now,” the wart-covered bastard excimed, 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—Bke! Ugh! I still need him to take me to Ockpool. I kill him ter. Yes! I kill him ter!
Oh, e 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 eve a goblin after we reach our destination. In any case, I should py around with my skills after gaining Hopeless Crusader. It might even help with my shapeshifting. But those were all things I’d work on ter. 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 wao scoff at him, but, you know, no mouth or vocal cords.
Dammit, Bke, just ignore him and py along.
With my best effort, I gave him my most sinister gre, attempting to skewer the pint-sized goblin whelp... or it would have, if he had actually been looking at me.
“e. e,” he stammered, tinuing to tug at me as if I were a damn dog!
Easy there, Bke. Let’s not jump the gun... just yet.
Snuffing out tykes is dht distasteful.
Well, I haven’t determined if he’s a kid yet, have I? Besides, eating kids ’t be that bad, just think of it as veal.
Chug 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 pohe 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 sauraight through a slight cra the wall. It was another hidderance, one of many we had entered thus far. Had I not just witnessed him e, 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.
Uedly, the opening through which I trailed Wartie didn’t reveal aunnel, corridor, or passageway but rather an impressive stone archway leading to another massive cavern. Lurking beside it were foblins 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 expressiohed with fury.
“Yes! Yes! Kill me! Kill me!” Doodles cried out excitedly, but no one paid the slime any attention. This firmed what I already suspected: I was ihe only one who could uand the getinous cube. Perks of Polyglot, it seemed.
Well, isn’t this just delightful?
“WHERE DID YOU GO?” one of them bellowed.
“Found bck slime pet,” the kid replied, wiggling his toes into the dirt.
That’s not slime. It looks like mushroom-man, but bigger,” anoblin roared, brandishing a wooden club in my dire.
“Found Muddy, I did. Muddy good. New pet! Adventures killed me and Doodles. I went bad found Muddy, want revenge!”
…
“Adventurers from Sethia?! Same ones who took the core?” a goblin asked, a note of panig his tone. “Saggy, fetch the Warchief!”
Sethia? Oh, do you meaher didates? Ah, yes, you guys don’t o worry about them.
Surprisingly, the goblins appeared geerrified. Little do they know; I’ll tear this whole pce 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 greeures hen promptly bolted. his hasty departure, I couldn’t help but he goblin’s bow-legged gait. As he scurried off, I caught a horrifying glimpse of something saggih 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 . “T-there were ten of them. Yeah, ten adventurers! Muddy battled all ten. Muddy uable! Adventurers ran in fear after they killed me and Doodles!”
Ha! You little fibber.
“That fought ten adventurers?” Anoblin 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 s, a wooden club smashed into my mushroom-shaped head. Pudding spttered all over the club as it sunk down into my head a good fifteeimeters.
“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 doo my gooey head, watg the damaged surface fill ba. heless, I harbored no desire to endure a pummeling to my soft ium. After all, I had magid I wao use it.
A sly grin spread ay mouthless face as I focused on the spell, [Blight]. A murky, bck haze mixed with dark greens and purples enshrouded the gobliered a pierg scream, followed by a resounding thud as his club cttered to the ground. As I readied my move—reactivating my passives and springing forth—I realized it was too te. My oppo crumpled into a revolting mixture of blisters, pus, and blood.
Well, that was anticlimactic.
As I braced myself for the iable notification and, hopefully, another level, I was disappoihat nothing happened.
Well, isn’t that just fug peachy.
I couldn’t help but wonder how much of the dungeon core was ected 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 ner to getting my hands dirty, but this was a whole new level of grossness, whiy mouth watering—if I had one. No, really, the foul aroma ing from it got me all hungry, and I khat was s on so many levels, a, I really wao eat it. However, I hadn’t gotten a system notification for killing him, nor one asking if I wao 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 sario, 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, disappearih me as I quickly dissolved it away.
V:\Assion>SAFE_MODE
SkillUpdate
[Absorb] [Dungeon Denizen] [Goblin] Unsuccessful.
_
Admin Note: With the Dungeon issing, only the st remaining Dungeon Bosses successfully grant levels and skills upon beied.
V:\>
Ah, yes. The sweet, sweet notification of crushing disappoi. I defeated the gobli I have nothing to show for it... well, shit.
I paused my internal bitg to stare at the admin seemed if I wao gain any new skills from this dead dungeon, I’d have to find the st 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 oblins’ eyes widened in terror as one of them pointed a shaky fi me. “T-THAT NOT MUSHROOM!” he shrieked, his voice crag with fear.
Oh yeah, I fot, 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 bag away slowly, ready to bolt at any moment. And to top things off, a dozen other humanoid creatures were sloroag us.
Great, that’s just what I needed: more spectators who ’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 uimate the approag mob.
I o think fast and devise a pn, or else I’d end up just like the pile of goblin slop I had just absorbed. I started ref my body, finding it surprisingly easier tha time I’d do. 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 det meal in weeks, and his scraggly gray beard could have doubled as a mop. His outfit was a fashion disaster—a pink and bck robe so worn out it looked like it had been through a aired with a long skirt. I mean, seriously?
Did he steal that from a dead sorceress or something?
To top it all off, his walking e was impressive, but it gave off an uling vibe, as if it were dispg 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. Fasating and rather odd. How very peculiar indeed.” He then turo Wartie and asked, “Boy, did y this pudding here?”
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease as I looked into those beady little eyes. However, my bck, 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 gre I shot at Wartie spoke volumes. “Well, let’s not dawdle about out here like uncivilized monsters. Let’s head baside.”
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 enter 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 o dwell oter. Now, Wartie, e with me. We have some pressing questions about these so-called adventurers, and more importantly, for our new system user friend.”
1
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