My run-in with the dungeon’s denizens—monsters, or whatever you might call them—was brief. They seemed eager to push me and my surly lizard escort out of their disaster zone of a city deep within the dungeon’s bowels. heless, I couldn’t help but revel in my luck.

  Not only had I secured a guide through the byrinth of caverns toward freedom, effectively putting a dampener on the vampires’ pn—not that I have anything against them, especially since Aurelia is one. But I loathe being bound by others’ expectations. I refuse to dao aune.

  Whoever’s reading my story—thoughts, or shall we say, mad ramblings—right now, what I’m trying to vey is that I’m much happier trekking doath of self-destru than being guided by others... minus my current guide, of course. I’m speakiaphorically... You know what? It doesn’t matter.

  Just know, I do my own thing, and nobody has a say in it!

  “Is that so?”

  “I’m ign you, strange woman’s voi my head that’s definitely not my own,” I huffed dramatically.

  Redtail paused his steps ahead of me to gnce back, uttering an annoyed, “What?!”

  “Not you, lizard-chi-dinner. I was chatting up my inner crazy,” I fshed a grin that probably didn’t do me any favors.

  At least, I hope it’s my own inner crazy.

  No, I don’t—

  —Yes, I do!

  “Ugh, I’m losing my mind,” I facepalmed, still not wiping away my lovely—okay, creepy—smile, which still wasn’t doing me any favors. Yet.

  Hey, it’s not my fault I look like a hideous monster with h—though, these wiggly tendrils might just make a det stand-in. The lizard just shook his head in annoyaomping ahead of me, clearly unappreciative of the magnifiy smart mouth—his loss, obviously. Anyway! Where was I going with all of this before I started hearing voices?

  I also saw a ce to challehe dungeon bosses and perhaps absorb a few skills along the way—if any of the bosses were still around. With no dungeon core, there were no respawning bosses. I was dealing with the leftovers, uhat Slutty—Sluttiahian?—raiding party had sin them all on their way out, or the didates I’m peting against hadn’t gotten to them first.

  But let’s not overlook the ig on the cake: I had a lizard snack I was saving for ter!

  Could things get aer?

  A faint sound of scurrying crab legs echoed behind me, abruptly wiping the sadistic grin off my face that had blossomed at the thought of my upi. I had alreached that you know you’ve hit the big time in any gig—whether you’re a rock star, a movie i, or even a half-baked author—the minute you snag your first stalker. But damn, I now realize how much having your own personal creep utterly suck! I whipped around, sing the shadows, but that sneaky, treacherous box of dicks was o be seen.

  “Fug mimic,” I hissed under my breath, with enough venom to rival the toxicity of Flint, Michigan. It was so quiet, I might as well have kept it to myself—holy, I wasirely sure if I had said it out loud or just thought it.

  With an annoyed huff, I stormed off after my ter meal, determio steer clear of that damn mimic. Maybe, just maybe, I’d get lucky and snag a skill from a dungeon boss that actually makes a dent or crack—because, fuows, none of my current skills do squat. Sure, they’re impressive, stag up for epic status effects: poisoning, acidic burning, ah-draining ssh stealing. A solid bad from me, and most enemies are toast—not to mention my miasma cloud brewing all sorts of diseases. But as, my personal stalker seems immuo all of it. Yay for me...

  Hmm... I haven’t tried my Silk Webbing skill yet.

  What’s that going to do?

  Stick it to a wall... maybe?

  Oh, yeah, that’ll solve all my problems.

  Well, if anything, I might be able to shat bastard mimic chest with my sticky web fluid long enough to make a hasty retreat—aka, run away like a little bitch!

  “Ugh, Bke, stop talking to yourself,” I grumbled.

  Redtail froze, gng back with a worried expression before asking the obvious, “Is that normal... talking to yourself like that?”

  “Hmm? Oh, umm… My mother always said it’s only ing if you answer back,” I smiled at him, which, for the third time, did not do me any favors.

  “I-I see,” he replied, tilting his head to the side with narrow eyes before asking, “and do you… answer yourself back?”

  “Nooo?” I smiled sheepishly, and for the fourth time, you guess what happened.

  My meal, which I’m really, really struggling to save for ter, shook his head in what I only assume was lizard exasperation before fag forward and leading the way once again. Our little distras had bee the norm. Every so often, I heard those creepy skittering sounds following us, promptio mutter a string of obsities while debating my move. Then I’d argue with myself about how stupid I was being, which always led to lizard-chi-dinner pausing to give me that ed stare. Not that it helped—reading lizard facial expressions is like trying to decipher a hieroglyphics. Impossible. Like, seriously, impossible!

  “So, lizard, when will we e across our first boss?” I asked after what felt like four hours of walking.

  “Lizard?” he puffed in indignation. “I’m a Drakar, not some oile. Though many arrogantly call me a drake, I usually don’t waste my breath correg their ignorance,” he snapped. “As for your question, we have only just departed and haven’t even made it out of the dungeon city’s caver,” he hissed, clearly irritated.

  “Ugh, this is going to take forever,” I whined, my shoulders slumping. “I need something to fight and kill!”

  Hmm—when have I ever wanted something like that?

  “I think this body is fug with my mind—Oh, really? No shit, Sherlock!” I didn’t bother hiding my ihoughts as I cackled to myself, the sound eg off the dungeon walls.

  “We’ve only been walking for thirty minutes,” the scaled dick grumbled, his voice dripping with exasperation as he suddenly quied his pace.

  I knew his heavier strides wouldn’t st for long; he’d take a few determieps then slht dowhe same song and dance for the st four hours. Yeah, I heard what he said about it only thirty minutes, but let’s be real, I trust my sense of time way more than I trust his... Okay, who am I kidding? That’s a total lie.

  Given my utterly impeccable sense of time—he sarcasm—I spent the six hours amusing myself with Polymorph while tailing the lizard. And yes, I’m still calling him that until the delightful moment I finally get to eat him. I eained myself by morphing my hand into all sorts of absurdities: three fingers, a cw, tentacles, a perfectly smooth hand, and even a disturbingly gooey one. Oh! A’s not fet the cssic oversized foam finger—you know, the ones you see at spames. Yep, I went there, because, let’s face it, I’m obviously number one. I must fess, each transformation became shogly easier, almost as if I were magically abs some deep, subscious insight into how it all works. Fancy that!

  Fortunately, fate decided to throw me a bone as we stumbled upon a few deg corpses of fallen dungeon monsters during rand tour. So, yeah, I chowed down! While feasting, the system didn’t bother to bless me with any new skills, not even a pathetic little popup.

  However, it did mao generously pad my bra. After mung on a few delightful snacks, I shot up to a whopping five foot nine inches, or for those who adore precision, a striking one hundred and sixty-two timeters—exactly how my metric-obsessed, dearly departed dad from a past life would’ve insisted I report it. Yes, he was a die-hard metri, but let’s be real, I juggle between that and imperial, and usually mess up the versions. Thank god foogle! What, you gonna judge me for the Ameri school system’s spectacur failures?

  Anyway, he’d probably be over the moon about my sudden growth spurt. What? I was vertically challenged in my past life. I often joke about being short and curvy, but truth be told, I was short and skinny, like board-ft skinny, but hey, let’s keep spinning that tale and see who catches on.

  That all being said, I couldn’t help but relish the disgusted tortion on the lizard’s face—maw—or whatever expression he was trying to pull off when I chowed down on those corpses. They sort of looked like buffalo, only mini pony-sized, and with colorful fluorest feathers. But oh my, their iines were beyoable! Seriously, they were to die for! I think I just found my favorite eat.

  I took my sweet time sav those morsels, slurping them up slowly, just to rub it in at my disgusted spectator. The lizard was absolutely ertained by my little feast. His loss. Either way, it provided me with a delicious sense of satisfa to keep him on his scaly toes.

  The lizard let out a low growl, clearly growing impatient. “What are you waiting for?” he snapped. “We o keep moving if we hope to reach the exit by the end of tomorrow. Hurry up, you damn shit-eating slime!”

  A piece of iine dropped from my mouth as my head soward the lizard. Ever so slowly, I stood, momentarily fetting about the savory morsels I had been mung on. I casually approached the meal that had the audacity to call me a shit-eating slime, swaying my hips like a predator stalking its prey. As I neared, I leaned in close and, muy amusement, discovered he did, in fact, smell just like chi.

  My voice dripped with mock curiosity and a hint of menace. “If you weren’t here, how would I go about log the st remaining dungeon bosses and the exit?”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, dimwit, I’m not about to give a ibalistic shit-eating slime the only leverage I have,” he retorted with a smug grin. “I’m well aware the Warchief wants me gone, seeing as I’m his closest petition to bee the Warchief, especially after this disaster with the dungeon core. Even if you kill me and somehow mao retrieve the core, I’ll simply respawn. No—Warchief Hensley sent me along with you as yuide, a backup pn, just in case you fail.”

  “Hmm... fasating,” I replied, feigning i.

  Don’t kill him. Don’t kill him. Don’t kill him!

  I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill him!

  The lizard raised his head, his gre void of shame or fear. “Now, be a good little slime and follow along—hrrrk!”

  His sentence tly cut off as my ched, gooey fist collided with his mouth! The satisfying symphony of muffled screams and gurgled whimpering filled the air as my arm torted into a writhiacle, slithering deep down his throat. Meanwhile, my other arm reverted to its true form, exploding into a web of inky bck goo that ensnared him, trapping him like a helpless fly in my diabolical spiderweb. I should have probably tried Silk Webbing, but this was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing. Oh, the pure ecstasy of watg him squirm and struggle in my grasp! It was a moment of sheer bliss.

  “Ah, splendid,” I said with exaggerated gratitude. “I guess that means I won’t be needing your brilliant guidanymore. I’ll just find my own way.”

  I ughed as the lizard put up a feeble struggle, whily fueled my twisted delight. The more he resisted, the more my deranged pleasure grew.

  “Oh, fuck yes! Go deeper, Bke, deeper,” I moao myself in a perverse dispy of self-indulgence.

  I couldn’t dis whether it was my own tremors of delight or the st remnants of life vulsions c through his body. Regardless, the sensation was exhirating. My tentacle arm tis invasive journey, plunging deeper and deeper into his throat, pierg his stomach, and snaking through his delectable iines.

  As with all good things, my enjoyment had to e to an end. I pouted as the frigid air caressed the tip of my tentacle, now poking out the other end. It was then and only then that I activated Corrosive. And with that, it happehe unmistakable shudder as the lizard let loose a blood-curdling, muffled scream while my aciditacle went to work, burning him from the i. The sound tinued until he stopped moving, signifying his ultimate surrender—or maybe just the absence of nerves.

  In any case, as he stopped screaming, I started. A maniacal scream of ecstasy erupted from my toothless mouth, eg off the stone walls as my prey surrendered eo my dev embrace.

  I stood there panting with euphoria, my eyes closed as I savored the moment. Maybe, just maybe, I absorbed more than I intended from the succubus... Nah!

  “Did you hear anything I just said?” came a growling voice, catg me by surprise.

  Crag my eyes open slowly, I found myself still standing before the lizard, the annoying prick gring at me. For a moment, I just stared, blinking in fusion.

  “Um, what?” I finally managed, blinking a few more times.

  Shit, did I just… daydream all of that?

  I… I think I did.

  “Well, that was a sight to see. Quite the imagination you’ve got,” the woman’s voi my head chimed in, dripping with unsolicited entary. By this point, I had growo ign her. It was just ann I was losing my mind.

  “I said,” the lizard hissed, pointing at something behind him, “there’s a potential dungeon boss behind those doors over there. So if you’re doh your disgusting meal, we be on our way.”

  I leao the side to peek at where he ointing, and sure enough, two massive iron-looking doors stood imposingly against the side of a storucture carved into the cavern wall. It was breathtaking, remi of Petra in Jordan, but with a dark, gothic twist that sent shivers down my slimy spihe intricate carvings and sheer scale of the architecture were mesmerizing. In any case, it was rather —definitely a top tourist destination if I had any say iter.

  “The dungeon boss is in there?” I asked, knowing it ointless question. I was just stalling for time as my mind tried desperately to catch back up to reality and decide whether or not I wao ay fantasies. In the end, I decided against it... for now. After all, retrieving the dungeon core was more important than indulging in a single meal.

  “A dungeon boss, yes—or rather, there should be, seeing as the doors are closed. If the boss was defeated, they’d be wide open.”

  “Wouldn’t it be the opposite?” I questioned, arg an eyebrow.

  The lizard shook his head in exasperation and started walking toward the massive iron doors. I gnced back at the iine I had dropped on the ground, picked it up, and ran to catch up to my future meals-on-tail.

  “So, lizard, what kind of boss is inside?”

  I tio speak between bites of my delicious snack—though I use the word bites very loosely. It was more like stig a piece of not-sausage in my mouth aing Corrosive dissolve it. Yep, that’s right, I’m usiive targeting of my passive attacks in a generalized region of my body, much like I am with Mana Focus. It’s strange, but using these skills is getting so easy to do, I’m barely putting in any thought to activate them.

  “The name is Redtail, Drake Redtail,” he grumbled, not doing a very good job at hiding his anger.

  “Didn’t you say you were a dickwad, not a drake?” I asked, feigning fusion.

  “A Drakar, yes,” he took a deep breath as if to ter himself. “Drake is just my name, Drake Redtail.”

  “Huh, doesn’t that get fusing?”

  “No, most of those within Ockpool I’ve known for over a thousand years,” Redtail casually mentioned, causio stumble at what he had just dropped.

  I froze, my mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief. Lizard—or Redtail, I probably should use his opped and turo look at me, fusion evident on his scaly face. Still-dissolving ks of, well, let’s call it what it was, iines, dropped from my sck-jawed mouth as I gaped at him.

  “A thousand years? Holy shit! How long does your kind live?!”

  He bli me this time, clearly fused. “What do you mean? As long as we don’t die in battle, everyohin the Moons of V?luspá is immortal. How do you not know this?”

  “Everyone is immortal?” I whispered, still in shock, befng up at him. “Wait, does that mean I’m immortal?”

  “Y-Yes,” he answered, seeming bewildered by my sudden i in what he probably assumes is basiowledge.

  “—Wait, what do you mean by don’t die in battle part? I thought you could respawn from death!”

  “By attuning our souls to a dungeon core, we respawn if sin in battle,” Redtail stated, his tone ced with irritation. “However, those outside of dungeons call us monsters for doing so and see us as heretics deserving of destru.”

  “Yeah, I don’t care about that st part—so nobody dies from old age, huh,” I pondered aloud before something dawned on me. “Wait, so why was that werewolf chief so old?”

  “Warchief Hensley’s homeworld was brought to the Moons of V?luspá when he was of an elderly age, and he’s stopped aging ever since. And he’s a warg, not a werewolf,” he added, chug at that st part as if it were some inside joke I didn’t get.

  My mind should have been on the fact everyoopped aging when their entire freaking worlds were brought here, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, “What’s the difference, between a werewolf and a warg?”

  “A werewolf ge shapes; often, the wolf form is what they ge into from a number of other races. A warg is just a warg—no ging or shapeshifting is involved.”

  “Huh, okay, but back to this immortality thing and no aging,” I paused to collect my thoughts. “Does that mean children stay, you know, children forever?”

  “They stay young, yes, but not as children. I’d say they’re more akin to young adults, though they ofteain child-like mis,” Redtail expined, his frown deepening as he spoke. “However, it’s exceedingly rare for a child to be born within this realm; some bme it on the magi any case, each birth is sidered a miracle. I thousand years, we’ve only had four children born within Ockpool, and that’s sidered a high number. In faost ret child, Wartie, was born just five decades ago.”

  “Huh, so that expins why he’s, you know… a little slow.”

  Ugh, am I actually feeling bad for calling him a retard now?

  ...Nope!

  “No, no. That’s just a typical goblin trait,” Redtail sighed, pausing before the massive iron doors of the boss chamber—or should I say the gothic structure. His gaze hardened as he turned squarely toward me. “Now, I’ve indulged your questions. Will you answer one of mine?”

  “Sure?” I replied, my voice oozing mothusiasm.

  He’d actually been surprisingly helpful with my questions—e shocked. I’m still pnning to eat him ter, but having him not act like a plete jerk was a delightful improvement. So, I guess I was more than willing to eain a question or two.

  Redtail took a long breath and finally posed his question, “Are you a Herald?”

  “…A what now?” I bli him, my fusion mounting.

  “A Forerunning? Vanguard? Harbinger? Sentinel? Pioneer?” Redtail’s arms began filing slightly as he listed the possibilities, growing more animated with each term. “A Precursor? You know, a summoned soul that arrives before one’s homeworld joins the Moons of V?luspá?”

  “That’s a thing?” I asked, my eyebrows shooting up in genuine surprise.

  “Argh, yes!” he excimed, his frustration palpable as he threw his hands up in exasperation.

  “Hmm... Well, I tell you that my world is not a part of these moons, at least as far as I know, and that my soul was summoo this reality a few days or weeks ago.” I shrugged slightly, trying to seem nont.

  Probably just a few hours, but let’s not dwell on my poor timekeeping.

  What? I lose track of time easily, especially when messing around with the system.

  “So, it’s true,” he whispered, his voice tinged with awe and foreboding. “Another vergence is upon us.”

  I was about to ask him what that meant when the iron doors began to creak open, unleashing a long, eerie metal-oal screeeech.

  1

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