My vision, hungry yet blurred, trailed the undead woman as she procured a large bowl and presented it before me. It was the sort of bowl one might mix a hearty salad in, though I had a hunch she wouldn’t be tossing my salad. While the ambient mana was on the fritz and my sight was all fogged up, my sniffer—wait, I don’t have a nose. Pores? Whatever! My sense of smell was still queen, especially when it came to the good stuff. And by good stuff, I mean the dry-blood aroma wafting off the bowl, which was more appetizing to me than it probably should have been. I mean seriously, where’s the meat?

The altar I had found myself on upon awakening hinted at the sort of grim ceremonies that might have transpired in these types of dark places. And the more I observed, the more I sensed that this Kaida, with her undead secret, was likely shielding the true nature of such dark practices from the others she had sent away.

"You are invited to meet with our queen," the woman stated, her gaze lingering on my gooey form as if weighing the options. "You may follow at your leisure," she continued with a slight pause, "or, should you prefer, I can transport you in this basin."

"Umm... Why the hell should I meet her? I've got a hot vamp to find, not play tea party with your queen," I oozed out sarcastically from my goopy form.

It's like a freaking mana drought up in here. How's a puddin’ supposed to get around?

Tell me about it.

I just did.

…

"The queen has endured more than most could bear, having to stage not only her death but that of her children to escape the Slaethian purge," the woman's voice was a low weave of pain and dark resolve. "Empress Aurelia has become a formidable force against a common foe. By aiding us, you contribute to her cause indirectly. It would be... mutually beneficial," she intoned, with a hint of persuasion that didn't sit right with me.

Her words lingered, heavy with vengeance and the tantalizing tang of mutual loathing—a flavor I found particularly moreish. The taste of impending anarchy was a treat I relished; chaos was, after all, the choicest confection in my collection. Yet it was the undertone of veneration for my Aurelia that prompted me to halt and mull over her proposition.

"Fine," I mumbled, my mass inching toward the basin with a reluctant slink. "This queen had better have something interesting to say."

There was a pause, the kind filled with unspoken words and hidden agendas. "Your paths align against a shared foe," her voice came, steady and measured. "And another has come, claiming she's here to wait for you. Gave herself up to our mercy."

"Mercy? What do you mean, someone's waiting on me, huh? That's a plot twist," I quipped, curiosity edging out of the sarcasm tinting in my tone. "What’s the story behind that?"

Her silhouette stiffened, betraying nothing more. "That's all I'm permitted to divulge at present."

She's definitely keeping secrets. What do you think about a surprise attack?

Tempting, but with the mana around here feeling like a diet version of itself, and we don’t know how long our system skills will last until we run out of system mana. We're swinging in the dark—literally.

True. We could use some good old-fashioned training to get the hang of things again. Cue the epic 80’s montage music!

A good old fashion 'wax on, wax off' kind of deal, eh?

Exactly. Maybe Ms. Undead-and-Sneaky over here can point us to a better mentor than our last magical fiasco.

You're talking about Circe, right?

Duh! You know I was. I mean, we’re the same person after all, how could you not.

Slinking into the bowl was a new kind of low for me. My blurry sight couldn't catch the full comic horror show, but I felt every bit of it. Turns out, being a slime with aspirations for legs makes for some comical situations when you've only got goo to work with. Without enough mana to pull off my usual shapeshifting tricks—seriously, why's mana a must for a simple morph?—I was left doing the goo equivalent of a belly crawl. It's pushing and pulling with tendrils, like some novice at a Pilates class gone wrong. Embarrassment? If I could blush, I'd be a disco of red right now. But shame's never been my thing, so there's that silver lining.

Shame’s not our thing? Well, it looks like hypocrisy is our thing.

Shut up, you hypocrite.

The undead woman's presence was like a soothing balm, the subtle aura of mana encircling her casting ripples through my senses, hinting at hidden enchantments. It was a faint current, yet it tingled pleasantly, sharpening my blurred sight just enough to discern details previously shrouded. As she came into sharper view, her appearance defied the grim expectations typically associated with the undead.

She was unexpectedly beautiful, her skin a smooth shade of caramel, lips full and inviting. Strands of white and obsidian weaved through her hair, each lock a silent testament to the contrast within her. But then, rising above her head, two bunny ears twitched—a peculiar and whimsical sight.

—Wait, bunny ears?!

Those didn’t show up in her silhouette, did they?

No, they did not.

An illusion, maybe?

…Probably?

Silence was my companion as the undead woman ferried me through the maze-like catacombs, the magical aura she exuded providing clarity to my otherwise fuzzy vision. Despite the improvement, the world still appeared as though seen through a pair of someone else's glasses—better, but not quite right.

As we passed by, I couldn't help but gawk at the variety of beastkin around us. It was like being in a live-action scene from a Japanese anime. From the typical humanoids with cute animalistic ears to the full-on anthropomorphic types that cater to more niche tastes, the diversity was... educational. Not that I'm into the whole furry scene, but let's just say I could understand the appeal under different circumstances.

But this wasn't the time for such distractions. These beastkin, they all bore the marks of suffering—a weary band of survivors worn thin by conflict and deprivation. Their gaunt figures and the haunting hollows of their eyes held stories of struggle and loss. And there was something about that look in their eyes, a mix of desperation and a dying ember of hope, that struck a chord within me—not a harmonious one but a chord that resonates with the part of me that thrives on chaos and suffering. After all, this bleak tableau was right up my alley—the kind of nightmarish landscape where I find my twisted comfort.

You’re a sadistic bitch, Nightmare.

And you’re a total bottom, Dream.

I prefer the term switch.

…

Being carted around was a new level of weirdness for me, like a clump of gunk, with a couple of gloopy strands draped over the rim of the bowl and two glowing orange orbs peeking out. Kaida seemed unfazed by the defeated glances cast our way as she strode past the downtrodden beastkin. Soon, we entered a new chamber that housed three figures: a woman of elven grace, her beauty a stark contrast to the melancholy in her eyes and the twitch of uncertainty in her black cat ears. And then there were the two little ones with her—catkin, probably toddlers or whatever age kids start being a nuisance (all of them). I wasn't up to speed on child-rearing stages. Seven years old? Could be. But that wasn't my thing, I always hated kids. The woman, though, had a certain allure—an undeniable MILF vibe. Not that it mattered; my affections were firmly reserved for a certain vampire.

“I hear whispers, Kaida. What have you brought before me?” the beastkin Queen inquired, her voice a hushed undertone laden with weariness.

“My Queen, it appears our supplications have been recognized,” Kaida responded with a note of reverence.

“The gods have abandoned us. Were it not for your guile and magic, my dear ones and I would have perished in flames. The gods have not shielded us; they have empowered our foes,” the Queen retorted, the bitterness in her tone as sharp as a blade.

“Yet not all deities have turned their backs. The Crone remains a beacon in our gloom, blessing us with a sign of hope upon her own altar,” Kaida countered, her words laced with the gentle coaxing of a balm for the Queen’s scorched spirit.

“And what boon does your goddess bestow upon us now?” the Queen asked, her voice drained of emotion, all that remained was a hollow resignation that bordered on despair.

The catkin queen peered into the basin, her brows arching in surprise and skepticism as she took in the sight of me, a dark mass with two luminous orbs. She held Kaida's gaze as if contemplating whether what she saw was an oddity or an offense.

"What exactly am I looking at?" she asked, her voice mixing curiosity with a note of suspicion.

"It's called a Black Pudding," Kaida explained, the pride in her revelation clashing with the queen's clear dismay.

"A slime, Kaida? Really?" The queen's voice betrayed her frustration, veiling it thinly with a hint of sardonic humor.

Kaida nodded earnestly. "Yes, it emerged on the altar, bathed in a sacred glow. A sign from the Crone, I'm sure of it. And—it speaks."

The queen leaned closer, her intrigue piqued despite her reservations. Her eyes met mine, and I could feel the challenge in her silent gaze. It was my turn to make a move, to say something that would validate Kaida's claims. But instead, I remained silent, letting the moment stretch into an awkward pause.

Sometimes, saying nothing at all is the most eloquent statement one can make.

“I trust your judgment, Kaida, but please dispose of that...thing,” the catkin queen said with a resigned sigh, turning her back to me.

I couldn’t help but take offense. “Hey, that’s uncalled for,” I gurgled out. “It's not like I popped in here by choice,” I added, feeling the irritation bubbling within me.

At the sound of my words, the queen whirled around, her face a portrait of astonishment painted with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. She cautiously edged closer, while Kaida's look of vindication grew more pronounced. “Hello?” the queen ventured, her voice trembling between hope and doubt, reaching out into the uncertainty.

I rolled my orange orbs upward at Kaida, exuding as much impatience as a blob could muster. “Actually, scratch that meeting. Just point me to the nearest exit. I've got a sexy vampire to catch up with, and let’s just say the mana feng shui here is ruining my vibe. Plus, I'd rather not murder all of you while relying solely upon the system’s mana, I prefer using that for my practice time.”

“Like we practice.”

“Zip it!”

The catkin queen, curiosity piqued, leaned closer. “Who is it you speak with?”

"System?" Kaida repeated, her voice a concoction of disbelief and hope. "You're a... champion?"

Crap. Busted.

Way to go dumbass!

That wasn’t me, that was all you.

Was not… was it?

"No, no. Big misunderstanding," I blurted out, hastily backpedaling. "Just forget I said that, okay?" My words were a clumsy attempt at deflection, but the cat was already out of the bag—or rather, the slime was out of the bucket.

The cat lady's gaze flickered to Kaida, her eyes narrowed in a silent exchange that seemed to convey volumes before settling back on me. “This wouldn't happen to be the 'one' that elf was harping on about, right?" she inquired with a skeptical arch of her brow.

"I believe so, my Queen," Kaida affirmed with a certainty that piqued my interest despite myself.

"Who are we talking about now?" I grumbled feeling a bit annoyed with myself.

The catkin queen tenderly crouched beside her children, their wide eyes tracking every subtlety of our interaction. As she stroked their heads with a mother's love, her voice softened, "Children are a miracle in these harsh times, a rare bloom in winter's cold. And twins, they're a legend come to life—a blessing amidst our plight." She sighed, a contented sound that seemed to carry the weight of many hidden sorrows. "Lately, the tides seem to be turning. Our beleaguered kingdom has witnessed a small but hopeful surge of new life, nearly twenty new souls in the last thirty years, with the number growing each passing year."

Her whisper was a confessional to the hushed chamber, "We’re sheltering three expectant mothers within these walls. I can't explain it, but it's as if the threads of fate are being rewoven, heralding a shift in the winds. Perhaps... it's time we adapt to the change we're given."

Umm… What’s she going about?

The hell if I know.

Didn’t Death say something about baby making?

I don’t think so, but it’s not like we ever pay attention.

True.

A voice, hushed and laden with gravity, dared to break the silence, "What do you mean, my Queen?"

The Queen spoke with a decisive calm, gesturing towards the bowl that held me, her words laced with a stoic acceptance of the unknown. "Great changes are indeed upon us, Kaida. Whether your goddess has blessed us with...this," she paused, her hand motioning dismissively towards me, "I cannot say. But I trust your judgment if you deem it a sign. I entrust this matter to your care—act swiftly. Our provisions dwindle, and the Slaethians' bastards will not be held at bay indefinitely."

“Thanks, Giselle,” Kaida said, her smile a rare moment of warmth in the dreariness as she carried me out.

We navigated more winding passageways, the pervasive stench of decay and desolation a sweet symphony to my senses. It was a delightful caress to the chaos I adored. Yet, as we moved, I couldn't help but brood over the cosmic joke that landed me here. What in the dark corners of the Dream Realm was Mother thinking, dispatching me to this pit? Heroism wasn't exactly in my repertoire. I’m about as much the knight in shining armor as a goblin in a tutu.

“I haven’t caught your name yet,” Kaida inquired after a stretch of silence, her curiosity piqued as she trudged through the catacombs with me in tow.

“Blake. And for the record, I’m nobody’s Champion—especially not yours,” I retorted, the sharpness in my voice matching the edge in my mood. “Still trying to figure out what Mother was up to, sending me to this joyous little gathering,” I added with a venom that was usually reserved for those on my bad side—like my prior stepfather.

Kaida halted, giving me a look that mixed shock with a dawning reverence. “What did you just say about your mother?” she pressed, her voice a mix of suspicion and wonder.

Crap.

“Nothing, it's... it was nothing,” I backpedaled quickly, the realization hitting me that I might have shared too much. “Just talking out loud,” I said, hoping my nonchalant tone would smooth over my slip.

Why don't you spill all our secrets while you're at it!

Hey, no pinning this one on me!

...I have no clue what you're on about.

So frustrating!

“I-If you say so,” Kaida's reply was a hesitant affirmation, her voice a thin veil over the swell of her skepticism. She navigated the turns and twists of the catacombs with a caution that hinted at her inner turmoil, clearly unsettled by the enigma of the revelation I let slip.

We eventually emerged into a dank, dimly lit chamber filled with cages as if it were a poorly assembled dungeon that exuded an aroma most would find repulsive. But to me? It was a banquet hall of scents. The air was thick with the musk of unwashed bodies and the pungent sweetness of decay—prisoners languishing in their filth, wounds festering in the stagnant air, excrements festering in corners.

Among the wretched inhabitants, a diverse palette of races: dwarves, humans, and elves—a gallery of despair, each with their own tale etched in the lines of their faces and the shadows of their eyes. Gnomes were conspicuously absent, those elusive little critters proving too wily or fortunate to end up in this pit.

And then there was a new kind of eye candy, a reptilian bruiser that made me think of Red Tail. Except this one had a face like a shovel-hit-a-dinosaur and a physique ripped straight from a barbarian's fantasy. Shame about the wing, though—what was left was a drooping disaster, giving off major 'used-to-be-somebody' vibes. He of course snarled at Kaida.

"Can I eat that one?" I piped up, my tone as eager as a kid eyeing the last slice of cake. My form wobbled with impatience, a dark puddle yearning for a bite.

"Eat... him?" Kaida echoed, her voice a mix of shock and confusion.

"Eat me?" the dragon-like being rumbled simultaneously, a tinge of alarm in his deep, resonant voice.

"Come on, don't act all grossed out now," I scoffed at the fake bunny lady, letting my blobby body quiver with anticipation. "You were the one who started the whole limb buffet."

"The same as ever, I see," a woman's voice called out from the row of cages, arresting my anticipation mid-wobble. I strained to glimpse the source among the mesh of metal confines, the dimness playing tricks with my vision. The voice was unmistakably familiar, even through the clang and echo of the dungeon, though the speaker remained hidden from view.

Kaida, intuiting my piqued interest, weaved through the dismal rows until we halted before one particular cage. Inside sat an elven woman whose beauty was an affront amid the filth and despair: her hair a cascade of gold, her eyes piercing blue, and her ears a sculptor's dream of elongated grace. Her attire was tattered, yet she carried an air of untouchable elegance that only served to stoke the embers of my rage.

"Go to hell, Vanya!" I seethed, mustering all the spite a puddle of darkness could convey. With a surge of will, I attempted to call forth Blight, envisioning the miasma of decay at my command—yet reality hit with the disappointing thud of no effect.

You forgot about the low mana, didn't you?

...Yeah.

Tempted to take a new system skill for a spin?

...Yeah.

Vanya's form began to shimmer, wrapping herself in a cocoon of golden energy, I didn't give her the luxury of time. Poor instincts kicking in, I launched [Disintegration] without a second thought, only to watch in dismay as my 'bowl'—my temporary sanctuary—began to dissolve like sugar in hot tea. And down I went, splashing onto the cold stone in a graceless puddle.

Okay, cool it. We're freaking out and wasting time.

I know. I know.

We may not like it, but we’re an up-close-and-personal DPS.

Ugh, what I would give for a lightning spell!

I couldn't suppress the malicious excitement, the dark glee that came with casting [Phantasmal Surge]—a lunge towards Vanya with all the sinister speed I could muster. But it was like hitting an invisible wall, a golden bubble of protection that sent me sprawling across its surface in a wide, sticky smear.

Now I get the whole bug-on-a-windshield experience—splat and wow at the same time.

The protective glow around Vanya dimmed, revealing her in armor that was a blend of practicality and regal fashion—a sight that stirred a mix of admiration and envy within me. Her eyes locked onto my orange orbs, full of a cold fury that could slice through steel. She seemed on the edge of striking me down, yet restraint reined in her wrath. She took measured breaths, visibly collecting herself before locking eyes with me again.

"Blake, I've come for you," she growled, her voice thick with restrained fury. "Wake up. You're not in a dream, and your power... it's not limitless. You've prowled through my nightmares for far too long." Her words were a vehement whisper, a serpent's hiss promising the end of a long, dark dance.

Maybe snapping her husband's neck wasn't our brightest moment.

Feeling the pangs of regret now?

When have we ever been the type to look back with regret?

Well, consider the source. Our life's been a string of goth anthems set to the tune of regret.

Well, at least we still have that Dungeon Core tucked away.

Infinite respawns, right?

Exactly. As long as she doesn't decide to hover over our respawn point.

Ugh, spawn campers are the worst.

Vanya's barrier burst with the force of a storm breaking, sending me hurtling back in a wild arc of dark ooze. Kaida, caught off guard, stumbled alongside, her form shadowed by the surge of unleashed power. I cascaded over the prison bars, drenching prisoners with my viscous substance. The remainder of my form crashed against the dragonkin, whose screams pierced the chaos, mirroring the dismay of other prisoners as my Disintegration passive began its work, his flesh giving off an aroma that, oddly enough, reminded me of lemon-herb chicken.

As I lay scattered in defeat, I saw Vanya approaching with the calculated ease of a predator. Each step was measured, her posture exuding a chilling resolve. Resigned, I sprawled against the disintegrating scaly flesh, bracing for an imminent return to the Realm of Dreams.

~

"You've got everything you need?" Rob's voice betrayed his concern as a touch of urgency bled through his words. He was itching to get moving.

Yua met the half-orc's gaze and nodded. "I do, but you still haven't explained exactly where we're headed."

"To the Kingdom of Slaethia," Rob revealed, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Turns out, we’ve got system access. We might not be 'Champions' in title, but with our system skills, there's no telling us apart from them. The so-called new gods? They’re just Levelers themselves who've maxed out their levels. Slaethia will welcome us with enthusiasm."

"I thought... their kind doesn't take kindly to darker races," Yua's voice wavered, the seed of doubt evident in her tone. “And what do you mean, the gods are Levelers?”

That's the truth of it," Rob said with a knowing look. "The newer gods aren't native to this realm—they're ascended Levelers who've maxed out their levels with the system. They're reluctant to grant Champion status now; it seems they'd rather not risk new rivals rising. As for your heritage," he continued, his gaze affirming, "you’re a high elf—Slaethia will accept you without question. And I won't be a problem either." His grin took on a conspiratorial edge. "I've acquired a Unique skill that lets me change my race whenever I want. Just need to get far enough away to transform without prying eyes."

"Huh, the gods are like us?" Yua echoed, processing the unexpected revelation. Her surprise deepened as another thought struck her. "You have a Unique skill? How did that come about?"

Rob leaned in closer, his voice hushed to a whisper laden with secrets. "The Goddess of Magic herself granted me this gift," he confessed. "She enlightened me on the nuances of ambient mana, the same knowledge I've been sharing with you all."

"So, it was her guidance all along?" There was a note of admiration in Yua's voice, but it was tinged with an undercurrent of something darker, more tumultuous. The realization that Heather had succumbed to the allure of a succubus wove a thread of bitterness into the fabric of her thoughts. Escape seemed the sole antidote to her aching heart, the singular avenue away from the torment of a love unreturned. She exhaled a sigh heavy with resolve and looked up at Rob, a determined glint in her eye. "I’m ready," she affirmed.