Oh yes, I admit it—I was throwing a tantrum worthy of a toddler on pixie sticks, all whiny theatrics and dramatic foot-stomping for maximum giggle effect. Not that I'd admit that out loud to my current audience—please, I have some reputation to uphold. Sanity forbid anyone realized half my mania and taste for dramatics were just a performance I got off on. Literally and metaphorically, of course.

"Anaaaal-lyth, I wanted to kill them!"

I kept whining and pouting like a brat denied her favorite murder toy.

But in truth?

I was utterly delighted. I'd officially corrupted Miss Prissy Goody-Two-Shoes into murdering her own kind—or, well, former kind… or friends? Allies? Acquaintances! Whatever—point is, she killed 'em. Granted, it was a mercy kill… but hey, totally counts!

Yes, my apprentice—I mean, Champion—come to the dark side. We have cookies!

And blood. Mostly blood… oh, and intestines! Delicious, squishy, slurp-worthy intestines!

But also, cookies!

Right. Cookies. Ha. Silly us.

"Must you be—"

I cut her off with glee, grinning wide as I jumped in to finish it for her.

"—What? Adorable? Stunning? Fun? Exciting? Drop-dead sexy?"

"Petulant," she deadpanned.

"Heyyyy! I am not… petulant!"

My smile collapsed into a theatrical pout, lip jutting out like a kicked puppy as I crossed my arms and muttered, "Maybe a bit insane, sociopathic, psychotic—sure—all neatly bundled under a borderline personality disorder umbrella, but petulant? That's just rude."

I shrugged after a moment of consideration. "Yeah, okay, that's fair—but I'm also adorable, so shut up."

With all the pouting and teasing shoved aside, I finally turned my attention to what really mattered—me. Specifically, the glorious chaos I'd unleashed during that last fight.

And oh yeah, I did a lot—in case you hadn't noticed.

Time to sift through the wreckage. See what skills I'd tinkered with, what worked, and what I should probably tweak before the next blood-soaked performance.

My Selectable Skill Points hadn't grown—no surprise there—since I was hard-locked at level 25 until I found a dungeon to level in… or stumbled across some system users. Which also meant no new skills. Total bullshit, honestly. But at least I had a hefty backlog of previously unlocked options to choose from.

Turns out, I could deactivate existing skills to free up slots—just couldn't have everything available at my beck and call. Not that it really mattered anymore. I'd been learning how to use my skills without the system's help, relying on ambient mana instead—and you know what? My magic was way stronger without those stupid training wheels. The system's casting felt like finger painting. Mine? Full-blown nightmare oil on canvas.

So, I'd swapped out three of my skills—Spirit Vessel, Silk Webbing, and Terror's Infusion. The first one, Spirit Vessel, had been fine for stuff like what I pulled with Olin's phylactery, but beyond that? Meh. Not pulling its weight. Sure, system skills could be twisted and reimagined—open to interpretation, which was half the fun. That's why the descriptions were always so vague. A basic Fire spell, for example—one caster might imagine it as a flamethrower, another as a soft little candlelight in their palm, and someone else? Boom—explosive fireball of death. It was all about intent, mental imagery, and desire—though, mostly imagery… or imagination, I suppose. But desire too. Okay, all three are important.

Wait… intent isn't the same as desire, is it?

Ugh, whatever—truth be told, I'm still figuring this shit out. But I've got the basics down. I think.

But with Spirit Vessel? Yeah, I was coming up brain-dead on new uses—unless I planned on becoming a full-time lich-wrangler. And let's be real—I already have plenty of undead drama in my life. (Mostly in the form of snacking on every corpse I find.)

So, out it went.

In its place? Phantasmal Mist. Not to be confused with Ethereal Mist—that one temporarily turns my body into vapor. Honestly, I don't use it enough. The curse of having too many damn skills.

That said, Phantasmal Mist? Now that one was interesting.

V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE

SkillDetails

 

[Phantasmal Mist]

Description: Summon the essence of the Dream Realm as an enigmatic mist, distorting reality and cloaking the surrounding area. This mist confounds and ensnares the senses of anyone engulfed within it, blurring the lines between dreams, illusions, and waking reality. While it serves as a potent weapon, leaving foes vulnerable and disoriented, use it wisely—it underscores the fickle nature of dreams and nightmares.

 

Status: Active

Type: Spell

Activation: Cast

 

Unselect [Phantasmal Mist]?

> YES

> NO

 

V:\>

Sadly, I'd only used it as a means to separate and disorient those three soldiers—but I knew the potential could be so much grander. My mental imagery had actually been based on The Fog—the movie, not the book. I hadn't read it, but I remembered how disorienting it was for the victims, how it pushed them into fear and panic. That was what I'd been aiming for.

But I was only scratching the surface here—the spell's potential was so much more than just cheap horror fog. I needed to keep refining it, to shape a sharper mental image—something better, something truly nightmarish.

I lingered on the spell's description, particularly one line: blurring the lines between dreams, illusions, and waking reality.

That's where I needed to concentrate my imagination next time.

As for Silk Webbing—I ditched that one because I was casting it so naturally, it had become second nature. Subconscious. Automatic. Like muscle memory after carving up one too many bodies—you stop thinking about where the knife—acidic tentacle—goes and just let your hands do the work.

Jeffrey Dahmer and Albert Fish would be so proud of what I've become.

Though, those amateurs have nothing on me.

Where was I going with this? Oh, right! Silk Webbing. Keeping it on my skill sheet felt redundant. So, out it went.

And in its place? Threads of Horror.

V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE

SkillDetails

 

[Threads of Horror]

Description: Weave ethereal threads from the very fabric of nightmares. These beautiful yet terrifying strands manifest as whispers, ensnaring the senses of all who encounter them, drawing from the darkest corners of the mind to captivate, bewilder, and control.

 

Status: Active

Type: Ability

Activation: Cast

 

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Unselect [Threads of Horror]?

> YES

> NO

 

V:\>

Now, I hadn't really tapped into the control aspect of the description when I first imagined using the skill. I was mostly picturing something dramatic—ensnaring victims and dragging out their worst nightmares from the darkest corners of their minds. Apparently, it had entangled them… just not the way I expected. It dug up buried memories that haunted them instead.

Not quite what I intended—so yeah, my imagery might need a revamp. But still, the potential was there. Deliciously so.

I had noticed the threads were a lot sturdier than my usual silk…

I wonder if I could craft stronger materials—like actual teeth. Real ones. I've been rocking silk caps in my mouth that were all show, no bite.

Something to consider later.

The last skill I'd swapped out was Terror's Infusion. Honestly? Redundant as hell. I already had Fear itself—and that beauty was an area-of-effect masterpiece, flooding everything around me with dread, horror, and crawling unease. Sure, Terror's Infusion was more precise—more surgical, if I wanted to selectively inflict nightmare fuel one victim at a time.

But here's the thing—I don't care who gets caught in my Fear aura. Friend, ally, enemy? Let them all choke on it. I live for that sweet, delicious scent of terror wafting off everyone in the vicinity. The panic. The trembling. The wide-eyed horror.

Who needs worshipers when their fear is so much sweeter than prayer?

So yeah—Terror's Infusion was useless to me. Too polite. Too clinical. And I'm anything but.

And with that, Nightmare Dominion took its rightful place.

V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE

SkillDetails

 

[Nightmare Dominion]

Description: You have become an entity reborn into that of nightmares. You wield considerable influence within the Dream Realm. Wherever you may go, you can call forth this realm's essence to you, amplifying your innate potential. Consequently, the strength of all your skills swells within your dominion.

 

Status: Active

Type: Spell

Activation: Cast

 

Unselect [Nightmare Dominion]?

> YES

> NO

 

V:\>

This one was rather simple—or at least, my mental image of it was. A buff. A delicious little enhancement to all my skills. When I applied it with Phantasmal Mist, everything I did inside that fog got juiced. My Fear? Turned into full-blown piss-yourself, scream-for-mama, claw-your-own-eyes-out nightmare fuel.

Could it become something more? Something grander? Sure. Maybe.

But honestly? My imagination wasn't there yet—not when all I really wanted was to gorge myself on my victims' dread.

Now though, the real question—what should I swap out next, and for what? My remaining available skill options were still annoyingly long: Acid Breath, Birthright, Devourer, Disintegration, Dull Corrode, Fear Harvest, Fortress, Heiress, Leap, Phantasmal Nightmare, Poison Spit, Shield Proficiency, and Surge.

Some of them were already giving me that same limp, redundant vibe as the ones I scrapped earlier. Surge, for example—meh. I've already got Burst, and I adore that one… even if I keep forgetting to use it. Not like I'm some twitchy little arena fighter desperate to end a battle in five seconds flat. That's not my style.

No—I'm here for the agony. The performance. The long, drawn-out dance of dread and decay. I want my prey squirming, sobbing, begging before I even get to the real violence. Quick kills are for amateurs. I'm here to make art.

Because let's be real—I'm not some guy trying to blow his load the moment things get exciting. Fighting should be foreplay. It's tension. Tease. A glorious, blood-soaked buildup to the final scream.

However, before I did anything, I needed to deactivate—Unselect—a few skills to free up some available slots. It wasn't exactly a hard decision. It just came down to what I could already cast without the system's hand-holding, and what I simply wasn't using. Simple, right?

Corrosive, Polymorph, Thermal, Blight, Fear, Life Drain, Mana Focus, Necrotic Flame, Paralysis, Burst, and Venomous all went up on the chopping block. Maybe I was getting a bit too zealous with removing my passives, but I'd been activating and deactivating most of them so instinctively, I was pretty sure I wasn't even using the system anymore.

Life Drain? Barely used it. I mean, I'm a gooey mess of a body—hard to tell if I'm healing or just jiggling weird. Sure, I'd first used it against the undead in the dungeon, but now that I think about it… was I absorbing health or mana? Either way, useless skill for an eldritch abomination like me.

As for the rest, I dropped them without much hesitation. Necrotic Flame? Loved it—one of my favorites. Well, besides Fear. Gods, I've really been vibing with Fear lately.

Thermal, though? That one was practically useless now. With Mana Focus and the way my desires twist reality around it, I had zero interest in some clunky military-grade black-and-white vision mode. Seeing the world through mana was far more vivid—far more me.

All in all, I was happy with my choices. Eleven freed-up slots for my thirteen remaining options. I hadn't touched my Insights—they stayed right where they were. I didn't even fully understand how they worked, but I was pretty sure they were doing something useful in the background, helping me master my skills without the system's hand-holding. That was reason enough to keep them.

As far as selection went—I picked them all, except Devourer and Dull Corrode. I mean, Dull Corrode? Seriously? That skill felt like an insult. What's next—Mildly Annoying Rust? No thank you.

But Devourer…

I stared at the description for a long time.

Too long.

Something about it just… gnawed at me.

V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE

SkillDetails

 

[Devourer]

Description: Devour the essence of powerful foes by consuming mana-rich organs from their corpses, with a slight chance to acquire a portion of their arcane and combat proficiency. Stronger and more skilled enemies increase the odds, though success is rarely guaranteed.

 

Status: Inactive

Type: Racial Skill

Activation: Passive

 

Select [Devourer]?

> YES

> NO

 

V:\>

It was a lot like my Absorb skill. But Absorb had become utterly useless outside of a dungeon. Still… I couldn't bring myself to let it go. I hadn't used it enough to figure out how to cast it without the system's crutch, and there just weren't enough—or hell, any—dungeons around to make it worth keeping. Ugh. So frustrating.

I'd already selected my new skills, could see them listed neatly on my system sheet, but my eyes kept drifting back to Devourer.

It would probably end up just as useless as Absorb—but I wanted it. That chance to gain new skills, that sliver of unpredictability? It was too damn tempting.

But what to swap out?

There was no way in hell I was removing any of my three Unique skills. Divine Stellar Core was too new, too OP, too damn useful to even consider unselecting. Same with Phantasia. And Polyglot? Yeah, that one's staying. It's literally my universal translator skill. What, am I supposed to just go learn languages the hard way now? Pfft—no thanks.

My eyes kept drifting to my Selectable list as I mulled over what to do.

Selectable Skills:

- [Devourer]

- [Dull Corrode]

 

V:\>

I stared at my last two—

"Wait!" I screeched, loud enough to make the elf flinch. She'd been casually keeping watch while I'd been lost in deep contemplation, but now she jumped like I'd just lobbed a grenade.

"Why are there only two skills left in my Selectable list?!"

My eyes snapped to hers, wide with panic. Full-blown meltdown mode engaged.

Anlyth gave me a flat expression, her voice even flatter than her tits—okay, yes, that's a lie. She had those perfect, perky C-cups worthy of motorboating.

"What do you mean?" she asked, tone deadpan.

"I had—what? Sixteen total skills? Right? I think? I unselected three before the fight, picked three new ones, and just now I—I unselected like ten—no, wait—twelve? Eleven?!" I grabbed my head, fingers clawing through my hair. "Shit, don't make me do math right now!"

"How did you—?! Wait. That's ridiculous. How did you have so many skills to choose from?"

"I Absorbed them! Okay?! In the dungeon! It doesn't matter!" My voice shot up an octave as I jabbed violently at the air in front of me. "Where are they?! Where the fuck did all the unselected skills go?!"

My chest hitched. Breath came fast and sharp as I stared, wild-eyed, at the system sheet. "If I unselected them, they should be there! They should be in the fucking Selectable list, ready for me to re-pick, not just—just—gone!"

I was practically vibrating now, twitching between her and the empty spaces on my list like a broken compass. "This doesn't make any sense! They can't just vanish! That's not how this works! That's not how anything works! RIGHT?!"

A ragged, manic laugh tore out of me—too high, too sharp—as I stared at the high elf, hoping for something resembling sanity.

She blinked.

I blinked.

She answered—

"I didn't even know you could unselect skills. I've only ever been offered three to choose from at any given time, so hearing you had that many… I don't even know what to say."

—I screamed.

Some time passed before I finally calmed down. Sort of. I'd unselected Shield Proficiency in exchange for Devourer—figuring, hey, might as well double up my chances of stealing skills. Not that it matters much outside a dungeon, but a girl can dream she'll get lucky with a Champion or an Ascended, right?

That aside, my bad mood only got worse when Shield Proficiency didn't reappear on my list. I sobbed. Like, actual black tears for that poor, now-extinct skill. Gone. Forever. You'd think the system would offer some kind of grace period—like a 30-second return policy or a "whoopsie" button—but nope. Just existential regret… and a full-foot-deep kick to the cunt.

A few moments later, I cursed myself for not ditching Surge instead. Ugh. Why did I keep that bargain-bin knockoff of Burst? Idiot.

But regrets aside, my skills were locked in. Set. And I was very ready to go fuck up whatever camp or forward operating base that patrol had slithered out of.

I didn't even care about corrupting the elf right now. Nope. Not in the mood. Anal-lyth didn't look too pleased either—boohoo—but I was in a shit mood and deeply craving a little casual murder.

Sure, I was probably making another dumbass decision right now. And yeah, maybe I should have spent a little more time going over my skills—especially with two shiny new Unique ones I wasn't exactly giving the attention they deserved.

But hey, I'm more of a learn-on-the-fly kind of girl. Trial by chaos, baby.

V:\Ascension>SAFE_MODE

CharacterStatus

 

Name: Blake

Race: Eldritch Horror

Subrace: Black Pudding

 

Concealed Race Designations Found.

Hidden: Titan

Hidden: Demigoddess

 

Class: Nightmare

Level: 25

 

Titles:

- [Death's Disciple]

 

Racial Skills:

- [Absorb]

- [Arcane Insight]

- [Devourer]

- [Disintegration]

 

Spells:

- [Astral Insight]

- [Fear Harvest]

- [Nightmare Dominion]

- [Phantasmal Mist]

- [Phantasmal Nightmare]

 

Abilities:

- [Acid Breath]

- [Ethereal Mist]

- [Fortress]

- [Leap]

- [Poison Spit]

- [Spider Walk]

- [Spores]

- [Surge]

- [Threads of Horror]

 

Vulnerabilities:

- [Fire]

- [Holy]

 

Immunities:

- [Acid]

- [Darkness]

- [Disease]

- [Dread]

- [Fear]

- [Poison]

- [Sleep]

- [Sorrow]

 

Unique:

- [Birthright]

- [Divine Stellar Core]

- [Heiress]

- [Phantasia]

- [Polyglot]

 

Selectable Skills:

- [Dull Corrode]

 

V:\>

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