Once again, I was back to being hauled around in a bowl—well, more of a glorified bucket now. Sure, I could crawl on my own, but turns out Black Puddings aren't exactly speed demons when they're missing the ability to morph legs—or a Burst skill to cheat. Hell, at this point, I'd even settle for that cursed mushroom body again or, gods forbid, spider legs. But nooo, all I've got are a few sad little tendrils, dragging myself along like some pathetic puddle slug.

At least I've got the bucket.

Basin.

Fuck off!

It's humiliating.

And as if that wasn't bad enough, I apparently have my own Champion now? Or should I say Champions? And a fucking Priestess? Yeah, still trying to wrap my head around that one.

Seriously, who in their right mind would follow—much less worship—my psycho ass?

Oh, right. Religious nutjobs exist.

Still, I always figured I'd end up on a most-wanted list, not a most-worshiped one. I mean, come on—who wakes up one day and thinks, You know what? That eldritch sludge monster who devours people while cracking sex jokes and regularly argues with the voices in her head? Yeah, that's my divine savior.

Fucking idiots.

And Champions? Plural? The fuck? One insane idiot signing up for this trainwreck is bad enough, but multiple?

I swear, this has cult written all over it. And not even the fun kind with drugs and orgies. No, this has the annoying kind of cult energy—the type with uniforms and mandatory meetings and way too much chanting.

Fuck me.

This is gonna be a pain in the ass.

Luckily, it's the goddess in disguise—or auntie—who's carrying me around, otherwise, I might launch a surprise attack on my so-called Champion, Anal-lyth. But let's be real, in my current state, she would absolutely thrash me.

On the other hand… I wonder if eating a goddess would get me any skills? I mean, she might have system moderator access, right? Maybe I should consider pouncing on her instead. Tee-hee!

Get your head out of the gutter; we're spoken for!

What? Not that kind of pouncing! Besides, we're poly.

Since when?

Remember when we were dating those two girls and that guy?

When we were human? And less insane?

Duh!

We weren't dating them. That was… something else. Also, he was a gold star bottom, so he doesn't count.

He counted.

Hahaha! Relax, she's not talking about betraying our sexy vampire. She's talking about an actual meal, not a 'fun' meal. Though… eating people is kind of fun.

We just ate! …And yeah, it is kind of fun, isn't it? Intestines are among the best—and no, he didn't.

Mm-hmm. Yep. Yep. And yep, he did. Remember, we ate his—

Okay, you asses, okay—he counted! I'm starting to regret that we all share the same memories. Let's just move on.

We don't even need to strap anything on now. We can just grow our own—

I said, let's move on!

Fine.

Sometimes, I wonder which one of my inner voices best matches who I really am. I mean, sure, they're all me, but which one—or which faction of voices—truly carries the bulk of my identity?

The bitchy ones? The dramatic ones? The horny ones?

We prefer 'passionately enthusiastic.'

"Uh-huh. And the others?"

Elegantly unhinged.

"Riiiight."

And let's not forget the little whispering psychopath in the back, the ones who just want to rip and tear until nothing remains.

Those are the fun ones!

"Did you say something?"

I glanced up at auntie, who was gazing down at me with a bit of concern on her face.

"Nope. It was nothing."

The revelation that Anlyth had merely been pretending to be a prisoner sent ripples of unrest through the area the moment she stepped into sight for all the refugees to see.

Evacuees!

What?

They haven't fled their country, so… evacuees. If they'd fled to another country, then they'd be refugees.

Whatever.

With none of the beastkin in any position to offer real resistance, they watched uneasily as she strode around like she owned the place, exuding an air of confidence that made my goo itch. I found myself eagerly awaiting the cat queen's reaction to this little twist, but Asherah, in all her divine wisdom, seemed to be keeping golden-haired bitchface at a safe distance from her—a decision that seemed quite prudent to me.

Not like a Champion could take on a goddess… right?

…Right?

No way. Absolutely not.

…Unless?

I sank lower into my bucket, oozing irritation. This whole situation was becoming more of a headache by the second, and I was fresh out of eldritch aspirin.

Additionally, divine auntie seemed caught in a whirlwind of indecision, teetering between the urge to bolt and the impulse to lash out. But, ever the composed one, she held onto my bucket with a careful grip, trailing behind the golden-haired bitch with a subtle air of curiosity.

Despite the pitiful amount of ambient mana in this dump, I felt an odd tingle as we passed one of the many chambers lining the catacombs. My goopy form quivered.

Ooooh, mysterious.

I stretched out a tendril, or at least attempted to—what actually formed was more of a sad, wobbly goop-nub. "What's in there?"

"We don't have time for this."

"What? Why not, Anlyth? We're just following you around at this point."

"Do not call me that," she snapped, the venom in her voice thick enough to curdle milk. "Only my friends may call me by name."

Ooooh, touchy.

I paused for dramatic effect, letting my words sink in before adding, "What should I call you, my Champion? Anal-lady?"

The light chuckle that followed sounded less like laughter and more like a bubbling cesspool, which, honestly, just made it funnier.

Asherah tensed at my words, while Anlyth let out a deep sigh and facepalmed hard enough that I half-expected her to just remove her own face entirely. A prolonged silence followed.

"Hey, Auntie, can we get some ambient mana around here? I'm utterly useless without it."

Silence.

Now, I genuinely couldn't fathom what I'd said that was so problematic. Was it the nickname? My sparkling personality? Had I once again shattered someone's delicate sensibilities?

Didn't matter.

The weird tingling sensation was gnawing at my attention like an itchy rash I couldn't scratch, and honestly, that was way more important than whatever her problem was.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

"Call me Paladin Anlyth, or just Paladin," she finally muttered, her tone dripping with the bitter regret of every life choice that had led her to this exact moment.

"Sounds good, Pal Anal-yth."

If looks could kill, I'd have been respawning already.

"What do you mean, you're useless without it?"

"No ambient mana, no attacky-attack magic," I continued, my voice brimming with exaggerated patience. "I mean, there's the whole system thing, but without ambient mana to back it up, it's pretty lackluster. It's like, woosh and then… poop." I made a sad, deflating noise for emphasis. "Not impressive. You get me?"

There was another silence.

A long, judgmental silence.

They didn't get me.

Philistines.

A long, heavy, oh-gods-why-am-I-stuck-with-this-moronic-abomination kind of silence.

I think she did get me. She just didn't like what she got.

Why must we always be such a pain?

Who said that? That voice just lost their sassy-input card!

Shush! I want to see how far we can push her before we're forced to respawn.

Can we even respawn? Pretty sure auntie doesn't have enough juice to power the old dungeon's respawn point anymore.

I say fuck it, let's try!

I hate all of you.

What's new? We've always hated ourselves—self?

Anlyth might have facepalmed again, accompanied by a string of muttered curses. Couldn't quite catch what she said—my hearing isn't exactly top-tier in my current liquid state.

Meanwhile, Asherah looked… twitchy. Like she was on the verge of bolting the moment my so-called Champion decided to lash out and obliterate one (or both) of us. Either that, or she was really, really committed to her whole "just a humble priestess, not at all a literal goddess" act.

Honestly, fair.

To be completely fair, I was deliberately trying to provoke my new Champion. No real reason. Just for shits and giggles.

Admitting my mana weakness like that probably wasn't the smartest move, but then again… I've never been one to think things through when I'm in an extra sassy mood.

Asherah froze, her gaze flickering uncertainly between me and the grumpy elf.

Ohhh. Maybe calling her auntie out loud was a no-no?

The uncertainty in her eyes was almost adorable. She looked this close to scolding me, but, you know—grumpy murder elf present. And since I clearly had some dirt on her, she was probably debating whether it was worth snapping at me or just rolling with my bullshit.

Guess which one won?

With a resigned sigh, she turned and led us into a nearby chamber.

—Correction: She carried me in my bucket, while Anlyth bitterly followed.

Basin!

Anlyth gagged, her hand flying to cover her mouth and nose as she recoiled from the sheer putrid stench of decay. "What vile place is this?" she choked out, looking like she deeply regretted every life choice that had led her here.

"We can neither bury nor burn our dead without your people discovering us and slaughtering what few remain," Asherah shot back, her voice sharper than usual.

I, on the other hand, was having an entirely different reaction.

Because, holy fuck, this place smelled delicious.

Sure, the whole charnel house chic aesthetic was a bit over-the-top—limbs tossed around like a drunken necromancer's idea of home décor, torsos shredded into what could generously be called soup ingredients, a blender special in the far corner—but damn if my goo wasn't practically tingling in excitement.

Or maybe that was from whatever actually drew me here? Because yeah, sure, the corpses were a bonus snack, but this wasn't what had set off my weird little eldritch sense.

I stretched out a tendril toward the center of the room—well, two inches in that direction—where something just felt… wrong.

Like, extra wrong.

And considering I was the one making that distinction? That was saying something.

With an exasperated sigh, Asherah trudged forward, carrying my bucket—basin!—toward whatever delightful horror awaited us in the far corner. Anlyth, still gagging like a prissy noble forced to mingle with peasants, trailed behind, her glare stabbing into the back of Asherah's head like she was trying to manifest divine smiting powers through sheer willpower alone.

But I wasn't paying attention to either of them.

No, my focus was locked onto something nestled among the wreckage of corpses, something my gooey senses refused to let me ignore.

I still couldn't make it out—because fuck me and my current lack of decent vision—but whatever it was, it was setting off my eldritch instincts like a goddamn dinner bell.

And oh, what a dinner it would be!

"That way, auntie!"

I let out an excited giggle, practically vibrating in my bucket—basin!—at the prospect.

Asherah, ever the responsible adult (ha!) tried one last time to rein me in.

"Will you please stop calling me that in public?" she hissed, voice low enough that Anlyth probably wouldn't catch it.

I gasped, scandalized. "Uhhhhhhh, I can't believe you're embarrassed of your adorable little niece?"

"That's not—"

"I forgive you."

She sighed in defeat.

That's right, auntie.

Accept your fate.

As we neared the source of that persistent, spine-tingling sensation, I let a good chunk of my tar-like self, oozing over the rim of my—sigh—basin, gaze darting around with eager anticipation. Asherah stepped carefully over one body after another, her usual grace marred by hesitation. Meanwhile, I was having a different kind of struggle.

So. Many. Corpses.

Mouthwatering.

Delicious.

But not the priority.

No, something else had lured me here. Something wiggling just at the edges of my already warped senses.

And then—movement.

A jiggle.

A tiny, pathetic jiggle.

"I kill you! Die and fear my fury!" a high-pitched voice squeaked, barely louder than a whisper.

Neither Asherah nor Anal-lyth reacted. They hadn't even noticed.

But I had.

And as realization settled in, I slumped in my bucket, disappointment washing over me in a thick, gooey wave.

It was just a tiny gelatinous cube.

For a fleeting moment—longer than I'd like to admit—my mind wandered to a certain wart-riddled goblin I once knew. But I shook it off. No point in dwelling. That annoying little shit was probably dead (again), and if not? Well, the universe would course-correct eventually.

Refocusing, I readied myself to slither out of my bucket to devour the pitiful little creature—because if nothing else, I wasn't about to let food go to waste.

But then—something else moved.

A shadowy blur darted forward, swallowing the cube whole before I could even make my move.

My nonexistent breath hitched.

The tingly sensation didn't fade.

Whatever that was… it wasn't just some random scavenger.

It was small, about the size of a human fist, but glossy—pitch black and slick, like something coated in oil.

A heartbeat passed. Recognition slammed into me.

Barely above a whisper, I breathed, "Black Pudding."

I lashed out of my… basin, at high speed—well, my high speed, which was more like a sluggish, gooey lurch, but hey, faster than the pudding! And without so much as a single coherent thought, I lunged, mouth open, ready to gobble the little bastard up.

You're mine, you slippery little shit!

It was child's play—the other pudding hadn't stood a chance before I'd devoured it.

Then, I felt it.

A strange tingle rippled through me, something shifting inside. It wasn't painful, exactly, but it was wrong. Like a gentle kick to the gut, only…

Not a kick?

It felt more like an enema.

Really?!

Well, it does.

I was about to launch into a very important debate about the horrifying accuracy of that statement when another realization sucker-punched me.

We never got a system notification for eating that other pudding.

…um.

…umm.

"IT'S INSIDE ME!"

I spasmed violently as I scooted back to my—bucket, basin, whatever the fuck!—flailing as my form rippled in the wrong fucking ways.

No. No. NO.

I do the eating. I do not get eaten from the inside! That's some reverse devouring bullshit!

Purge!

Eject!

Evacuate!

Abort mission!

Shit. It. Out!

My gooey mass convulsed, bubbling and twisting as I desperately tried to expel whatever the hell had the audacity to exist inside me.

It suddenly stopped.

But something was off.

The sensation lingered—wrong, foreign, inside me—and my thoughts scrambled, clawing for an answer, only to come up blank.

What the fuck do I do?!

Panic setting in, I latched onto the one instinct that made sense: Expel! Get it the fuck out!

Which… turned out to be a huge mistake.

Lacking claws, fingers, or anything remotely useful, all I managed was a feeble, convulsing mess of useless goo contorting in ways that could only be described as deeply unsettling. And the sound—gods, the sound—like someone enthusiastically clapping their hips against a particularly wet slab of meat.

Oh, this is humiliating.

Then, finally—finally—a sigh of relief as a system notification blinked into existence.

V:\Ascension> SAFE_MODE

BattleResult

 

Enemy Defeated: [Black Pudding]

 

Initiate [Absorb] on [Black Pudding]?

> YES

> NO

 

Error.

Error.

 

Eldritch Override Protocol Detected...

[Absorb] Initiated.

[Absorb] Successful.

_

 

V:\Ascension> SAFE_MODE

SkillDetails

 

[Unnamed Skill]

Description: Error.

 

Status: Inactive

Type: Racial...

 

Error.

Error.

 

Reclassification Initiated...

Reclassification Successful.

 

Status: Active

Type: Unique

Activation: Passive

 

Select [Unnamed Skill]?

> YES

> NO

 

Error.

Error.

 

Note: > Skill will automatically activate, and a new designation will be assigned upon naming.

 

V:\>_

"Ummmmmmm… what the shit?"

Yeah, that about summed it up. I had some kind of error-coded, system-glitched, unnamed skill chilling inside me like a time bomb, but honestly? That was future-me's problem. Present-me had far more pressing concerns.

I ignored all of that and instead focused on the far more interesting subject at hand.

"Soooo... what's the plan for all these corpses?"

Anlyth stiffened. Asherah, however, let out the kind of sigh reserved for exhausted parents dealing with an overly enthusiastic toddler about to set something on fire.

"The shielding crystal we're using to stay hidden also reduce the magic in the air, which prevents the dead from turning into unwanted undead," she explained, her voice carrying a heavy note of frustration. "But we don't have a way to give them a proper burial or cremate them. We're honestly at a loss."

Oh? Oh?

If I had a face, it'd be stretching into the kind of grin that sent people running for the nearest exit.

Anlyth, of course, was so done with me. "We need to leave."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, would there be any objections if I put them to good use?"

A heavy, weighted silence.

"...As long as you're not using them for some kind of zombie army, I don't think anyone would object. Why?" Asherah asked, eyes narrowing with clear suspicion.

I rippled with excitement.

"Me. Hungry!"

Anlyth visibly paled. "You're going to eat them?"

Oh, honey. You really should have figured that out by now.

"Oh, yeah, that should be fine," Asherah replied with unexpected cheerfulness, like letting me chow down on a pile of corpses was the most natural thing in the world.

Anlyth looked like she was about to rupture something vital. "You can't be serious," she groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead like my very existence was giving her an aneurysm. "You're going to let it eat your dead?"

"I'm a she, not an it," I corrected, oozing what I hoped was a sufficiently offended pout. Hard to tell, given I was currently more it than person.

Anlyth clearly hadn't put two and two together about the priestess yet. Which meant she also hadn't clocked that Asherah's morality was apparently as bendy as a back-alley contortionist and somehow still divine?

Wait… how does that even work?

Eh. Not my problem.

"Ew."

We all froze.

That hadn't been me. That hadn't been Asherah. That sure as hell hadn't been Miss Holy Stick-Up-Her-Ass.

I slithered enough to the side to get a better look and—oh. A gnome. Nikola?

"…How long have you been there?" I asked, half-expecting some bullshit answer.

"What? I've been with the three of you this entire time. Why?"

"…Oh. Okay. Cool."

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