The oppressive stillness of the swamp seemed to press in on Seraphina, each rustle of unseen life amplifying her naked vulnerability. Her head still throbbed from the blow, and the chill of the damp earth, coupled with the clinging mud, was a constant, vile presence. The thorns that had torn at her skin now burned with a dull ache, but these physical discomforts were distant echoes compared to the raw, paralyzing dread that had just seized her.
Her breath hitched, a jagged, shallow sound in the suffocating silence. A wave of uncontrollable trembling coursed through her, her muscles clenching and releasing in a frantic dance. It was then, as the tremors wracked her body, that a mortifying warmth bloomed between her legs, spreading outward, quickly followed by the sharp, undeniable tang of urine. She had pissed herself. The sheer, overwhelming terror of the Minotaur, that colossal shadow of brute force, had ripped through her composure, shredding every last shred of control.
Humiliation, hot and searing, flooded her. It was a deeper, more profound burn than any thorn scratch, but even that was overshadowed by the stark, terrifying truth. She was Level 0. Naked. A mere tremor of flesh and bone. A single glance from a creature of that monstrous scale, a mere sniff of her, and she would have ceased to exist, reduced to nothing but a bloody, forgotten stain on the swamp floor. The System's infuriatingly detached warnings – about her being the "weakest thing" in this cursed place, about mosquitoes posing a greater threat – hadn't been insults. They had been stark, brutal facts, delivered with a callous disregard for her very being.
This wasn't some convoluted dream from which she could simply wake. This was raw, visceral reality, and she had come within a hair's breadth of annihilation before even truly starting, dissolving into a quivering, incontinent wreck. Nausea roiled in her stomach, a sickening cocktail of fear, disgust, and the lingering effects of the concussion. The anger she'd felt towards the System, though still a simmering ember, was now eclipsed by a cold, hard knot of pure terror and a crushing awareness of her own profound fragility. The primal urge to simply curl into a ball and vanish was overwhelming, but then, through her blurring vision, her amethyst eyes locked onto the distant, persistent blue shimmer of the water icon on the internal map. Cleaning herself, regaining some semblance of human form, was no longer merely about hygiene; it was about reclaiming a sliver of dignity, a minute victory against this relentless nightmare.
Seraphina swallowed hard, the foul taste of bile and swamp in her mouth. The shame of her involuntary release still burned, a branding mark on her soul, but a new, fierce resolve began to crystallize behind her gaze. She was Level 0, yes, a pathetic, trembling creature, but she was alive. And that stream. She needed that stream now more than she needed air. She wouldn't collapse and become another forgotten casualty in this godforsaken swamp, not when a faint glimmer of hope, however repugnant the path to it, pulsed before her.
With a ragged, shuddering gasp, she slowly, meticulously, began to extricate herself from the grasping thorns, wincing as the cuts protested. Her movements remained precise, her amethyst eyes darting into the oppressive shadows, straining for any tell-tale thud or guttural snort that might signal a returning horror. Speed was paramount, but not at the expense of blundering into yet another unseen abomination. She moved with a heightened, almost frantic vigilance, her naked, mud-caked form a silent specter in the inky blackness, driven forward by the desperate thirst for clean water and the desperate, burning need for survival.
As Seraphina placed a particularly cautious foot, seeking to avoid a submerged root, a new, translucent screen flickered into existence directly before her eyes.
"Skill: Awareness Lvl. 1 Acquired," it declared with an almost clinical detachment.
Seraphina blinked, her forward momentum momentarily disrupted. Awareness? Her mind flashed back to the colossal Minotaur, to the primal, desperate instinct that had propelled her into the concealing mud and vines just before its gargantuan silhouette had lumbered past. Was that what this was? A cold, hard acknowledgment of her sudden, acute hyper-vigilance? It certainly hadn't prevented her from pissing herself, but perhaps… perhaps it was the very reason she was still breathing at all. A grudging, almost imperceptible flicker of appreciation for the System's 'insight' mingled with her perpetual, seething annoyance.
The screen vanished as abruptly as it materialized, plunging her back into the oppressive gloom and the persistent internal map. With a renewed, if still trembling, resolve, she pressed onward, every sense now more acutely attuned, painfully aware of the myriad unseen threats that lurked in the dark.
And indeed, as she pushed deeper, a subtle, profound shift manifested. The dense, cloying darkness of the forest, while still profound, no longer felt utterly impenetrable. Her amethyst eyes, already unique, now seemed to discern faint, ghostly outlines where before there had only been an undifferentiated void. The murky shapes of gnarled trees and submerged logs became marginally clearer, allowing her to pick her steps with slightly more assuredness.
Her ears, too, were sharper, almost painfully so. The distant, general hum of the swamp-forest began to disentangle into distinct components: the faint croak of a hidden frog, the almost imperceptible whir of unseen insects, the rhythmic drip of water from saturated leaves, and, most crucially, the minute rustle of unseen creatures moving through the undergrowth – far too small to be a Minotaur, but presences nonetheless. The heavy, damp air, already pungent, now delivered a richer tapestry of scents – the bitter tang of unknown vegetation, the sweet rot of decaying leaves, and the faint, almost metallic whiff of something alive nearby, something she knew instinctively to give a wide berth.
And the instinct that had saved her from the Minotaur? It was now a cold, insistent prickle at the back of her neck, a tightening in her gut, flaring almost violently the instant a shadow so much as shifted too quickly in her peripheral vision. It wasn't a conscious thought, but a pure, primal urge to hide, to vanish, to make herself as insignificant as possible when danger even remotely approached. This raw, unfiltered fear was terrifying, yes, but it was also a shield, a vital, screaming warning system in a world that clearly, unequivocally, wanted her dead.
This was the Awareness skill. Her mind, reeling from the sensory overload, made the stark connection, an undeniable link between the System's message and her newfound, terrifying clarity. It was a cruel gift, sharpening her perception only to confirm the countless ways this world could extinguish her life, but a gift nonetheless. With every heightened sense screaming at her, she continued her desperate, mud-slicked trek towards the shimmering blue icon of the stream.
As if in direct response to her instinctive, sudden halt, two more translucent screens shimmered into existence directly before her, overlaying the dim reality of the swamp-forest.
The first, swift and triumphant, declared: "Skill: Awareness Level 1 --> Level 2."
Simultaneously, her senses sharpened even further, becoming almost unbearably acute. The darkness peeled back another layer, revealing not just outlines but textures, the glint of moisture on distant leaves, the precise twist of gnarled branches. Her ears caught the distant, almost imperceptible scuttle of beetle legs beneath the soil, the faint, high-pitched whine of a single mosquito far off. The swamp's odors, already strong, now separated into distinct, almost overwhelming notes of musk, decay, and the faint, unsettlingly sweet tang of something venomous directly beneath her suspended foot.
The second notification then appeared, providing a stark, chilling explanation for her near-fatal mistake:
"Careful, these are Csytas, highly poisonous small monsters that pretend to be a rock. The needle on top that hides in its shell injects the poison into its victims and prey. However, they can be useful for many things, mostly assassination."
Seraphina stared at the screen, then at the 'rock' beneath her foot. It wasn't a rock. It was a small, mottled grey creature, no bigger than her palm, perfectly camouflaged, its surface indeed jagged and uneven. Somewhere within its deceptive form, a hidden, poisoned needle lay coiled. A shiver, colder than the swamp air, ran down her spine. The Minotaur had been brute force, terrifying in its scale. This... this was insidious, a silent, unseen death waiting to be stepped upon. She took a slow, trembling breath, her foot still suspended, then carefully, painstakingly, lifted it and placed it down a safe, deliberate distance away from the camouflaged Csytas.
A strange, almost morbid curiosity, fueled by her high Intelligence and the System's cryptic hint about "assassination," piqued her interest despite the lingering terror. She scanned the damp ground around her, her keen eyes, now boosted by Awareness Level 2, quickly locating a thin, broken branch long enough to keep her hand clear of the creature. Carefully, she picked it up, the rough bark feeling strange against her mud-caked fingers.
Holding the stick steady, she extended it towards the Csytas. She nudged it gently, a mere feather-light touch.
To her surprise, the "rock" shifted. Tiny, multi-jointed legs, thin and dark like spider limbs, popped out from under its jagged shell, twitching as it began to move sideways, a quick, scuttling motion. As it moved, it reacted to the stick's presence. Faster than her naked eye could have tracked moments before, two praying mantis-like arms, sharp and glinting even in the poor light, snapped out from its armored form. They swiped at the stick with incredible speed, leaving small, shallow cuts etched into the wood where they connected.
Just as Seraphina pulled the stick back, her amethyst eyes wide with a mix of awe and renewed caution, a new text box appeared from the System, almost directly on top of the scurrying creature:
"They use their scythe arms to cut chunks of meat off their prey. Glad to see you're not completely dumb."
Seraphina watched, fascinated and disgusted, as the Csytas, its brief display of predatory agility over, quickly scurried off, vanishing into the indistinguishable muck and shadows. The System's backhanded compliment stung, as always, but it also fueled a grim satisfaction. She wasn't just blindly stumbling through this nightmare; she was learning. Each close call, each painful humiliation, was also a lesson, a step towards not being completely helpless. She just wished the teacher wasn't such an insufferable, snarky void.
Her gaze hardened, the stream's shimmering blue icon once again her singular focus. The dangers were clear, but so was her resolve.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of treacherous footing and hyper-vigilant scanning, the oppressive darkness began to thin. The air grew subtly cooler, cleaner, and the faint, rhythmic sound of flowing water became a distinct, welcoming murmur. The shimmering blue icon on her internal map, which had seemed so impossibly distant, now pulsed brightly, directly ahead.
Seraphina pushed through a final curtain of drooping, moss-laden vines, and then she was there. The stream. It wasn't wide, perhaps no more than ten feet across, but the water, even in the dim light, appeared remarkably clear, glinting with a faint, ethereal luminescence. It flowed with a gentle current over smooth, dark stones, pooling in a small, shallow basin just before her, the surface undisturbed by the swamp's usual murk. The banks were less overgrown here, a narrow strip of firmer, mossy earth before the dense forest resumed. A sense of profound relief, so potent it almost buckled her knees, washed over her. She had made it.
The System, for once, remained silent. No snarky remarks, no condescending observations. Just the soft, inviting gurgle of the water. For a moment, Seraphina simply stood, her mud-caked, trembling body bathed in the faint, cool air rising from the stream, her amethyst eyes fixed on the clean water. The humiliation, the terror, the exhaustion – it all converged into a single, overwhelming need: to be clean.
With her Awareness Level 2 humming, Seraphina performed a thorough, almost ritualistic sweep of the immediate area around the stream. Her enhanced hearing picked up nothing but the gentle flow of water and the usual, non-threatening night sounds. Her keen sight discerned no hidden shapes in the banks, no subtle ripple that would betray a lurking predator. The air, though still carrying the forest's damp, earthy scent, had no hint of the musky reek of the Minotaur or the metallic tang of the Csytas. Satisfied, as much as one could be in this brutal world, she took a hesitant step into the cool, clear water.
A sharp, breathless sound tore from her throat as the icy grip of the stream seized her, then, just as swiftly, melted into a profound, almost luxurious release. The water, a relentless but tender caress, already worked at the accumulated grime clinging to her skin. She lowered herself slowly, first kneeling, then sinking fully, allowing the current to embrace her entirely.
Her hands instinctively rose to her face, working against the caked mud that clung to her skin. The coarse grit loosened under her diligent fingers, dissolving into the pristine current. Then, with a patient perseverance born of grim necessity, she began unraveling the dark, heavy ropes of her hair, teasing out embedded leaves and stubborn knots of earth. Each rinse saw the water run clearer, until the liberated strands, wet and gleaming, slipped through her grasp with newfound freedom, like spun silk.
A raw resolve hardened her features as she turned her full, unwavering focus to her abused body. The cool current was a paradox, both abrasive and soothing against her protesting muscles as her hands moved without hesitation, a methodical assault on the filth. She scrubbed at her breasts, her arms, her abdomen, watching with grim satisfaction as murky veins of mud, sweat, and the indignity of her ordeal bled from her form, swallowed by the indifferent flow downstream. Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath that felt like it purged her very soul, her attention, unwavering, fixed on the most defiled part of her. With a fierce, almost primal determination, she worked mercilessly at the sticky, dried blood and the abhorrent, lingering traces of semen. Every dedicated swirl of water, every deliberate, gentle rub, was an act of brutal reclamation, not merely scrubbing away physical taint but attempting to scour the profound violation from her very being. She witnessed the dark, vile effluence dissolve into the current, surrendering to the night's apathy, until her skin emerged, truly pristine, shockingly smooth, and utterly clean once more.
As she pulled herself from the stream's embrace, the cool night air bit at her freshly washed skin, a sharp contrast to the water's prior balm. Yet, it brought a perverse sense of freedom. Though the physical filth was gone, the tendrils of shame and loathing still coiled deep within, a dull ache in her soul. She stood exposed, impossibly vulnerable, but undeniably pure. And in that raw, primal moment, a flicker—a defiant, amethyst spark—ignited in her eyes, promising a return to self she hadn't dared to hope for.
The fragile peace evaporated in a grotesque explosion. From the placid surface of the stream, a vile, gelatinous mass erupted, surging forward with amorphous horror. It slammed into her, pinning her instantly to the cold, damp earth. Its translucent form rippled and stretched, extruding thick, sinuous appendages. These tendrils coiled around her limbs, brutally forcing her thighs apart with a cold, viscous insistence. Others bloomed from its repulsive mass, two slick, exploring lengths wrapping around her aching breasts, their surfaces chilling as they toyed with her nipples, dragging them into hard, unwanted peaks. A thick, glistening tentacle, dripping with a sickening wetness, slid between her legs, its tip pushing, forcing, invading her most private space with relentless, invasive pressure. A final, vile appendage snaked upward, plunging into her mouth, effectively choking off any nascent scream. The monstrous entity began to undulate, its form shifting, having its abhorrent will with her utterly helpless body. The silence of the night was replaced by the sickening squelch of suction and the raw, muffled whimpers of her utter despair.
The repulsive, slick tendril burrowed deeper into her, a vile invasion, while the one sealing her screams began to pump a warm, thick liquid down her throat. It coursed through her, an invasive flood that bypassed her will, forcing a swallow and igniting a searing, shameful warmth between her thighs. A choked, guttural sound, raw and involuntary, ripped from her, vibrating around the appendage that choked her. Just as her consciousness reeled, a shimmering, translucent panel blazed before her eyes, announcing: "New Skill Unlocked:Pheromones Level 1."
With every agonizing, forceful expulsion of the creature's vile essence, the digital prompt flickered, the skill's potency surging, climbing rapidly through its nascent stages until it neared its peak. The screen flashed once more, proclaiming a new revelation: "Sub-skill Acquired: Pheromones Secretion."
Her very flesh rebelled, a frantic tremor seizing her as her body, traitorous and helpless, responded to the alien violation. A hellish inferno ignited within her, rising like a molten tide. Her skin burned, flushing crimson, her breath caught in ragged gasps, and every nerve ending on her body screamed with hypersensitive, unwanted sensation.
Every brutal thrust of the oral appendage, every sickening pulse of the tentacle lodged within her, created an unholy symphony of violation. It was an obscene, agonizing duet that forced her consciousness into a single, unbearable peak of compelled ecstasy and profound degradation. The slick, invasive proboscis hammered rhythmically into her throat, its relentless motion sending tremors down her spine, each violent lunge stealing her breath. Concurrently, the fleshy invader in her most intimate core thrashed with a savage abandon, stretching her delicate inner walls to an agonizing extent, filling her with a distended, throbbing fullness. This sickening sensation pulsed in time with the relentless digital flashes that erupted before her mind's eye: "Pheromones Level 2… Pheromones Level 3… New Sub-skill: Heat Acquired."
As the vile, gelatinous core of the monster contracted, drawing taut and shuddering above her, milky secretions swirled visibly within its translucent depths. Seraphina, by then, had drifted far beyond the brittle precipice of agony, lost to a deeper, more profound despair. Tears, hot and silent, streamed relentlessly from her eyes. The constricting tentacles binding her thighs tightened, prying her wider still, making way for an even more grotesque, impossibly swollen appendage that thrust into her, pushing her past the familiar boundaries of pain and into a terrifying new realm where agony and an abhorrent pleasure began to inextricably intertwine.
An intense, undeniable pressure coiled deep within her, a sensation disturbingly akin to the desperate need to empty her bladder, yet she knew with a sickening certainty that it was something far more perverse. She was on the verge of an unwanted climax, a forced peak borne from the unrelenting assault she was enduring.
Her entire form convulsed violently, a monstrous wave of sensation cresting, drowning every shred of conscious thought, every desperate plea for cessation. She yearned to unleash a scream, to thrash and fight, to claw and bite at her tormentor, but the viscous tentacles clamped her limbs in an unbreakable, impossible embrace, and the invasive appendage in her mouth muffled any sound to a raw, pathetic whimper. The alien chemistry surging through her veins had rendered her flesh hypersensitive, her mind reeling in a disorienting haze, each brutal thrust of the creature's vile extension sending fresh, jarring shudders through the very core of her being. She could feel the sickening slickness pooling between her thighs, not solely from the monster's abhorrent emissions, but from her own unwilling, traitorous arousal, her body responding to the profound, obscene violation with a dark, shameful eagerness that burned hotter than any pain.
A scorching inferno consumed her: her flesh, her core, her very dignity, all swallowed by the grotesque, pulsating rhythm. The invasive tentacle in her throat intensified its sickening discharge, each violent pump forcing a choice between choking on its syrupy effluent or succumbing to an agonizing drowning.
This, finally, was the ultimate breach. The fleeting terror of the Minotaur's presence, the quiet menace of the Csytas—they paled in comparison. This was not just an attack; it was an unforgivable desecration. A frigid, all-consuming fury, a force far eclipsing any prior fear or humiliation, ignited deep within Seraphina. It was the final shard, shattering the last vestiges of her composure, a dam bursting within the shattered landscape of her soul.
The gelatinous abomination, having seemingly exhausted its initial virile eruption, began to recede, its viscous grip slowly slackening, its tendrils sluggishly attempting to withdraw from her violated form. But it had made a grave, fatal error in its calculation. It had utterly failed to account for the raw, untamed, primal wrath it had just unleashed.
A guttural, almost animalistic growl tore from Seraphina's chest. Her bound hands, inexplicably surging with a desperate, monstrous strength, clamped down with chilling finality on the retreating mass. Her fingers, imbued with a newfound, terrifying firmness, dug deep into its yielding, yet surprisingly resilient, flesh. Her amethyst eyes, dilated and blazing with a terrifying, unholy intensity in the dim, oppressive light, locked onto the retreating creature, a promise of retribution burning within their depths.
"This isn't over," she hissed, a guttural, venomous declaration ripping from her throat, raw and ragged. "Not by a damn longshot, you Fucker. You took your pleasure. Now, it's my turn for recompense."
Without a flicker of pause, propelled by an alien, horrifying compulsion, Seraphina surged. Her jaws unhinged to an impossible width, revealing teeth that had, in that instant, sharpened into predatory points. She plunged them deep into the creature's yielding, gelatinous mass. A sickening, ripping sound tore through the swamp's silence as she began to consume, tearing off great, quivering chunks, chewing with a feral, ravenous hunger that skirted the very edge of sanity.
The air continued to rend with the wet, tearing sounds as her teeth worked through the slime. A horrifying, acrid bitterness assaulted her tongue—a metallic, putrid explosion of flavor—yet beneath it, a strange, invigorating heat began to coil and expand within her. Her gut rebelled, a visceral, instinctive recoil, but the pure, unadulterated fury that boiled within her eclipsed all revulsion. She continued to rip and force the viscous mass down her throat, each swallow burning with an inexplicable, raw energy.
As the final, loathsome vestiges of the devoured slime vanished, consumed utterly, her vision erupted in a blinding cascade of digital notifications, momentarily obliterating the oppressive darkness of the swamp. A triumphant banner blared across her perception: "LEVEL UP! Congratulations: Level 0 --> Level 1!" Below it, a new command materialized: "Please assign unused stats points. Total Stats points: 10."
Almost instantly, another, more intricate interface superseded the first, filling her mind's eye. "New Class Unlocked: Monster Eater," it declared with an almost resounding finality. "Conditions have been met for Class unlock: Monster Eater."
Below this momentous announcement, an astonishing, almost incomprehensible scroll of text unspooled:
Monster Eater: A unique, Triple S-class designation, granting its wielder the extraordinary capacity to consume monstrous flesh without incurring lethal side effects. This class further bestows the ability to assimilate the skills, inherent abilities, and distinguishing traits of all devoured monsters. Acquisition of this rare class necessitates a profound tribute to the shadowy deity Xylos. Only a singular Monster Eater may exist at any given time within this world. There exists no limitation on the quantity of monsters one may consume, nor on the breadth of skills, abilities, and traits one may accumulate.
A stark, urgent query then solidified before her, hovering with an almost palpable expectation: "Process Slime Attributes? Yes or No?"
Seraphina stood there, bare skin streaked with mud, but now, a terrifying, nascent power hummed beneath her flesh. The repugnant aftertaste of the slime still lingered, yet it was dwarfed by the sheer, overwhelming shock and dawning awe of the System's revelations. Triple S-class? The dark god Xylos? The monstrous privilege to devour and inherit? Her mind, already fractured by memory loss, strained to grasp the unfathomable scale of what had just transpired. The profound humiliation, the raw, incandescent rage, the desperate, bestial act of vengeance—it had all converged into this singular, impossible moment.
The pivotal question hung heavy in the humid air: Yes or No? Seraphina blinked, her thoughts still reeling, tangled in the immense implications of this "Monster Eater" class. The System's final, expectant prompt pulsed, unyielding: "Would you like to process the abilities, skills, and traits of the slime? Yes or No?"
A ragged, raw "Yes" ripped from her throat, a stark, desperate vow to this terrifying, uncharted path. The syllable barely escaped her lips before her entire reality detonated. A searing, unbearable torment tore through her, dwarfing the persistent ache in her head since her awakening, assaulting every nerve ending. She crumpled to the damp earth, body convulsing uncontrollably, every muscle locked in a brutal seizure. It felt as if colossal, unseen claws ripped at her insides, attempting to peel her apart from her very core. A strangled, inhuman shriek clawed its way from her throat, raw and desperate. Her vision blurred, then dissolved into a chaotic, agonizing maelstrom of pain. Humiliation, scalding and absolute, layered itself over her terror as her bladder betrayed her, a mortifying warmth spreading beneath her. Her eyes rolled wildly back into her skull, white foam bubbling at her lips, and her hands clenched into grotesque, claw-like contortions. Unbidden, unholy screams tore from her, echoing, bereft of comfort, through the silent, indifferent forest.
Then, with the same startling abruptness it had begun, the torment ceased. Seraphina lay there, sucking in ragged gasps, body still trembling violently, every inch screaming in raw protest, yet the searing, all-consuming agony was gone. Her eyes, still wide and dilated with the aftershocks of trauma, slowly, haltingly, focused on a new wave of notifications that shimmered into existence, each one a stark, chilling chronicle of the horrifying metamorphosis she had just endured.
Abilities, Skills, and Traits Acquired:
Acquire: Slime skill Absorption.
Acquire: Slime ability: Transformation: Slime.
Acquire: Slime skill: Water Resistance.
Acquire: Partial Transformation skill.
Acquire: Shifting abilities.
Acquire: Slime trait: Gluttony.
Acquire: Slime trait: Monster Core Level 1.
Seraphina remained prone, naked and utterly saturated—not merely from the stream, or the lingering shame, but from the sheen of sweat and residual slime coating her. Profound shock still gripped her, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The sheer, visceral terror of the transformation clung to her, a cold, unyielding hand squeezing her heart. Yet, amidst the persistent dread and crushing physical exhaustion, a strange, nascent sensation pulsed within her—a faint, almost alien awareness of her own irrevocably altered biology. She had just gained an incredible, monstrous power, purchased at an agonizing, terrible cost.
Seraphina lay heaving, the phantom grip of her torment still clenching her body, but gradually, a disconcerting new perception began to surface. Her hand, compelled by instinct, rose to her chest, pressing against her ribs. That was when she felt it: a strange, bifurcated rhythm, her heartbeat distinctly doubled. It was a staggered cadence—thump... thump-thump... thump... thump-thump—a peculiar, persistent echo even as her ragged breaths slowly evened out. It felt as though a second, alien heart now beat within her, a delayed shadow to her own.
A chill, sharp as a needle, traced its path down her spine, an undeniable, silent directive from her newly heightened Awareness. Open the stat screen.
"Stats," Seraphina forced out, the single word hoarse, scraped raw from her throat.
The familiar, translucent interface shimmered into being before her eyes, its luminous glow an unnatural beacon against the swamp's encroaching gloom.
Name: Seraphina Brodior
Age: 22
Race: Humanoid Slime
Class: Monster Eater
Level: 1
Health: 15
Agility: 20
Charm: 30
Strength: 5
Defense: 3
MP: 30
Intelligent: 50
Luck: 1
Her gaze, magnetic and horrified, snagged on the line labeled "Race." Humanoid Slime. The words didn't merely appear; they shrieked at her, an incontrovertible, chilling confirmation of the grotesque transformation she had just undergone. She was no longer simply human. She was… this.
The System's interface shifted again, presenting a new directive: "Please assign unused stats points. Total Stats points: 10." Seraphina's gaze fixed on the luminous prompt, her mind a frantic vortex of thought. How would she shape this horrifying new identity? What configuration of strengths would serve a Humanoid Slime, a Monster Eater, in this brutal world? Each precious point represented a fragment of power, a choice that could dictate her very survival.
Her voice, still raspy from the recent agony and the unsettling mutation, a mere whisper against the swamp's quiet, articulated her choice: "I choose Agility... and Health." The vision of herself as a swift, elusive hunter, capable of outmaneuvering threats rather than simply enduring punishment, resonated deeply. Her formidable Intelligence, perhaps, guided her toward amplifying her inherent strengths, trusting in her capacity to adapt rather than to simply soak damage.
As the words left her lips, the translucent stat screen rippled like disturbed water, and the numerical values visibly surged before her eyes. "Stats Updated!" the banner confirmed.
Name: Seraphina Brodior
Age: 22
Race: Humanoid Slime
Class: Monster Eater
Level: 1
Health: 20 (+5)
Agility: 25 (+5)
Charm: 30
Strength: 5
Defense: 3
MP: 30
Intelligent: 50
Luck: 1
A subtle, yet exhilarating, hum of latent energy coursed through her body as the points found their new homes. Her muscles, though still protesting from the recent ordeal, now thrummed with a newfound lightness, a latent springiness that hadn't existed moments before. Her very perception of her body's capacity for rapid, fluid motion sharpened, an acute echo of her enhanced senses. She could vividly envision herself as a wraith, slipping through the trees like smoke, evading any looming peril with an almost effortless grace.
The sagacity of her decision resonated with an almost primal instinct. As a Monster Eater, her destiny unfurled before her, stark and undeniable: to consume, to adapt, to incessantly evolve. The wilderness would yield more monstrous encounters, a relentless supply of opportunities to amass strength, to claim new abilities, and to hoard ever more skill points. This terrifying metamorphosis, this dark genesis, was merely the overture.
Seraphina leveraged herself upright, her nude form a faint, ethereal shimmer in the oppressive gloom. She remained utterly exposed, vulnerable in the predatory maw of the untamed wild, yet her amethyst eyes now held a chillingly self-assured glint. The 'victim' had been shed like old skin; she was now something nascent, something… formidable. The crisp, cold bite of the air raised gooseflesh on her bare limbs, but it also bore the invigorating, earthy aroma of the forest, a gauntlet she now felt marginally more prepared to seize.
Her next immediate imperative crystallized: acquire something, anything cloak her exposed frame. Only then, perhaps, could she truly commence the harrowing exploration of what it meant to embody a Humanoid Slime and a Monster Eater.
Still haunted by the phantom echoes of agony and the peculiar, resonant hum of her newly calibrated stats, Seraphina deliberately eased back into the cool, dark embrace of the stream. The initial maelstrom of her transformation and the System's bewildering pronouncements had begun to recede, leaving in their wake a quiet, swirling vortex of unanswered questions.
"A soft, bewildered whisper escaped her lips. 'Pay a price to the Dark God Xylos... When in hell did I do that?' Her brow furrowed, a desperate crease forming as she grappled with the gaping chasm where that memory should have resided, utterly consumed by the void of her missing past."
With a focused mental command, she summoned forth the System's omnipresent Encyclopedia, her subconscious immediately directing it to the 'Dark God Xylos' entry. Her newly enhanced amethyst gaze devoured the scant lines of text. It offered neither comfort nor clarity—no sweeping history, no intricate lore, and chillingly, no visual representation. Only the terse, unsettling declaration: "God of Mischief and Darkness." The "price" remained an infuriating cipher, a terrifying blank etched into her fragmented recollection.
Her thoughts then slid, unbidden, to the repulsive entity she had just savagely ingested. "What in the damn world was that slime, anyway?" she wondered aloud, the faint, cloying metallic aftertaste still clinging stubbornly to the back of her throat.
The System, perpetually present and possessed of an infuriating, almost snide insight, responded without delay. "That," its voice, or rather, its text, conveyed, "was a water slime. Water slimes are capable of perfectly mimicking aquatic motion, seamlessly blending with water, employing water-based assaults, and are naturally immune to drowning."
A cold, calculating flicker ignited in Seraphina's eyes. "Can I use water attacks now?" the thought formed, a nascent glimmer of offensive potential sparking within her battered mind.
The System's retort was immediate and, as ever, laced with its signature, dry contempt. "...Did any notification for acquiring attacks grace your sight? No, you insufferable idiot. Access to a skill tree is required for such abilities, a feature which, to your lamentable misfortune, remains locked until you attain Level 5. However," it added, a chilling implication, "it is entirely within the realm of possibility that you could utilize your slime form to… drown victims."
The System's condescending tenor scraped against Seraphina's frayed nerves, yet the concluding remark—the chilling prospect of suffocating prey in her nascent slime form—snared her focus. A grim, unsettling smile, utterly alien to her recent terror, ghosted across her lips. It was a profoundly dark, monstrous contemplation, but one that pulsed in perfect synchronicity with the raw, vindictive power now surging through her. The world had exposed its grotesque underbelly, and she, in turn, was swiftly mastering the art of wielding her own nascent shadows.
Her mind, razor-sharp despite the lingering tendrils of exhaustion, fixated on the deeper, more sinister potential of her new attributes. "So, how do I actually turn into a slime?" she voiced aloud to the System, a frigid, clinical curiosity displacing the remnants of her earlier dread.
The System's rejoinder was instantaneous, dripping with its characteristic, dry mockery. "...Hmm, I'm not entirely certain," its textual response projected, "do I appear to be a viscous, protoplasmic entity? Perhaps you might engage your intellect, or, dare I suggest, concentrate on the matter. However, before you embark upon any imbecilic endeavors, it is highly advisable to first educate yourself on your recently acquired properties."
Before Seraphina could even form a biting retort or properly focus her thoughts on the System's insolent suggestion, the translucent display abruptly shimmered. The familiar, stat-laden interface dissolved, replaced without ceremony by an exhaustive catalogue of her newly acquired proficiencies. The System, in its presumed omniscience (and quite evident lack of faith in her immediate judgment), had pre-empted her, forcibly directing her to the skill pages.
Skill: Awareness Level 2
the first entry declared, its glowing text a stark beacon.
Description: Granting heightened perception across all five traditional senses, as well as an awakened sixth sense, allowing for a profound understanding of one's surroundings.
It hummed with a quiet power, a potent reminder of the razor-sharp instincts that had already served as her salvation against the brute force of the Minotaur and the insidious stealth of the Csytas. This was her primordial shield, her infallible early warning, the very anchor of her survival. She knew, with chilling clarity, that mastery of this ability would precede any reckless experimentation with monstrous forms.
The luminous screen subtly rippled, unveiling yet another terrifying acquisition. Seraphina's amethyst eyes narrowed, then widened imperceptibly, as she absorbed the chilling implications of Skill: Absorption.
Description: Bestows the unique capacity to absorb the essence of any being, provided the user holds a superior level. Initially, this skill permits the siphoning of raw stat points from vanquished adversaries, seamlessly boosting one's own attributes. Upon reaching its Zenith, this ability evolves into a full extension of the Monster Eater class, enabling the complete consumption of a monster, significantly increasing the probability of acquiring highly potent or exceedingly rare skills, abilities, or traits from the devoured entity.
A grim, almost predatory curve touched Seraphina's lips. This was it. This, then, was the terrifying, undeniable core of her reborn existence. She was no longer simply consuming; she could literally drain their very life force, their power, growing exponentially stronger with each subsequent victory. The thought of utterly devouring a formidable beast, internalizing its essence, its very being, was a concept both viscerally terrifying and undeniably exhilarating. It was a path paved not just with blood, but with monstrous, insatiable appetites—a brutal, yet direct, route to power in a world that had, until now, only offered her abject vulnerability.
The stream's cool, cleansing water still enfolded her, a stark counterpoint to the burning, savage ambition that now blazed within her. She was pure of body, yet still stark naked. Endowed with a nascent, terrifying strength, yet still dangerously exposed in the unforgiving wild. Her head throbbed, a dull, lingering echo of the agony she'd just endured, but her mind, sharper than any blade, was already calculating, dissecting every new facet of her existence.
The System, unrelenting, continued its macabre unveiling of her new monstrous self. Another line of glowing text solidified into view, detailing an ability that promised a complete, unsettling metamorphosis of her physical form.
Ability: Transformation: Slime.
Description: The user possesses the inherent capacity to transform into a slime.
Seraphina's gaze was fixed on the stark declaration. Transform into a slime. The very creature that had just subjected her to unimaginable horrors, the same entity she had savagely consumed to unlock this very power. A shiver, complex and profound—not entirely of revulsion, but of unsettling, boundless potential—traced its way down her spine. The notion of abandoning her human form, even fleetingly, was jarring, an affront to her very being, yet the sheer tactical advantages screamed their undeniable truth: instantaneous escape, unparalleled stealth, perhaps even novel methods of interacting with her environment, or even, she mused darkly, her next prey.
She was a Humanoid Slime now, her very essence irrevocably altered. This was no mere skill; it was a fundamental, terrifying shift in her being. The capacity to become entirely fluid, to perhaps flow through impossible fissures or absorb blows that would shatter bone, presented a chilling new dimension to her survival. Her body was still, but her mind blazed with the monstrous possibilities of her nascent form.
Another skill detail materialized on the translucent screen, confirming a more immediate, passive benefit of her recent, grisly consumption.
Skill: Water ResistanceDescription: The user is resistant to minor water attacks and magic, and the user also cannot drown in water. The higher this level up or stacked, the user could potentially be resistant against catastrophe levels of water attacks and magic.
Seraphina let out a slow, deliberate breath. The cold comfort of the stream water around her suddenly felt less like a simple convenience and more like an extension of her very being. Not drowning was an undeniable boon in such a treacherous, aquatic environment, and resistance to water attacks, even minor ones, was a distinct advantage. It solidified the notion that her new form, while terrifying in its violent acquisition, was also inherently suited to this damp, treacherous world. Every ability gained was another layer of defense, another tool for dominance, another step toward survival.
She was no longer just in the water; she was partially of it. The grim potential of drowning enemies in her own viscous form, combined with her newfound invulnerability to water, painted a vivid, chilling picture of future encounters.
As Seraphina processed the implications of her full slime transformation, yet another notification flickered onto the screen, this one perhaps even more versatile and disturbing than the last.
Skill: Partial TransformationDescription: The user can partially transform into any monster they consume. For example, if the user consumes a dragon, they can transform their hands into dragon claws. Or if they consume a slime, they can transform a part of themselves into slime-like.
Seraphina's lips curved into a slow, profoundly unsettling smile. This was not merely about becoming a full slime; it was about selectively morphing, adapting, cherry-picking the most advantageous aspects of her prey. The chilling thought of sprouting hardened claws from her fingertips or developing a skin that shimmered with the resilience of a monster's hide was a grim revelation. And for the immediate future, transforming only a part of her body into that viscous, adaptable slime... the possibilities for defense, for offense, for manipulation, were boundless.
The sheer, staggering potential of the Monster Eater class, combined with the grotesque agony of her initiation, was beginning to truly settle in her mind. She was a biological weapon, an evolving predator, limited only by what she could hunt and consume. The nakedness, the biting cold, the lingering fear—it all receded slightly against this overwhelming, almost intoxicating sense of monstrous power.
Just as Seraphina absorbed the implications of Partial Transformation, another, even more startling ability unfurled on her mental screen. This one went beyond merely adapting monster parts; it spoke to the very core of her nascent form.
Ability: ShiftingDescription: The user can change their eyes or hair color; they can also go as far as to grow the opposite sex, sex organs, or get rid of them at will. A higher level of Shifting ability could potentially give the user the ability to change their appearance, or change anything about their body.
Seraphina's breath hitched. Her own amethyst eyes, an unnatural, luminous shade that already stood out, could be altered? Her raven hair, a familiar comfort, could be changed? And then, the next line slammed into her consciousness with the force of a physical blow: Grow the opposite sex, sex organs. Get rid of them. At will.
A profound, almost dizzying sense of absolute control washed over her, chilling and empowering in equal measure. This was not just about survival; this was mastery over her very form. Her physical identity, so brutally violated and then so terrifyingly transformed, was now fluid, mutable, entirely her own to command. The implications were staggering, stretching far beyond mere combat into the very essence of who and what she could become. The world had forced her into a monstrous shape, but now, it had given her the keys to reshape it, to become anything, or nothing, she desired.
The oppressive weight of her nakedness, her vulnerability, began to feel less burdensome, replaced by the vast, terrifying freedom of her new self. The night air was still cold, the swamp still inherently dangerous, but Seraphina was no longer just a victim. She was a canvas, a weapon, a shapeless potential waiting to be defined by her own will.
As if to underscore the fundamental nature of her monstrous transformation, the System then revealed a core trait inherent to her new form, a primal drive that resonated with her very being.
Slime Trait: GluttonyDescription: The trait of all slime, to have the unending ability to consume. It also can break down a being to nothingness, consuming every ounce of their life essence. Higher levels could potentially give the user the ability to recall anything the user consumed in perfect condition.
A shiver of dark understanding ran through Seraphina. This was not just a hunger; it was an innate, profound capacity for consumption, a drive to absorb, to break down, to truly devour everything in her path. The horrifying act of consuming the slime, the rage-fueled, desperate bite, was not just an anomaly; it was the awakening of a fundamental trait, now amplified by her Monster Eater class. The idea of recalling a consumed being in "perfect condition" was unsettlingly powerful, hinting at a future where her consumption could lead to more than just personal power.
She was an apex predator, designed by a dark god and forged by a traumatic baptism of fire and slime. The stream's cool water still flowed around her, but within, Seraphina felt a chilling, growing emptiness that only consumption could fill.
The final notification pulsed into existence, a chilling culmination of all the information Seraphina had just received. This was not just a trait; it was the very essence of her transformation, explaining the strange rhythm now beating within her chest.
Slime Trait: Monster Core Level 1Description: The essence of all monsters, the Monster Core is their main factor in keeping them alive. A monster that devours another monster and obtains its core will have its life extended. They can also inherit that monster's skill tree. This can also cause the double heartbeat, as some monsters who consume another monster's core have grown another heart, making them hard to kill. Depending on how many cores are consumed, a monster can have multiple hearts.
Seraphina's hand instinctively flew back to her chest. Thump... thump-thump. The bizarre, staggered rhythm of her heartbeats resonated with the words on the screen. A second heart. Not merely a bizarre side effect, but a clear sign of increased resilience, a physical manifestation of her newfound monstrous vitality. Her life, so fragile just moments ago, had been inexplicably extended. And the implications of inheriting skill trees from consumed monsters, even beyond individual skills, were staggering. It meant entire new avenues of growth, entire new forms of power awaiting her.
She was no longer just Seraphina Brodior. She was a Humanoid Slime with a Monster Core, a Monster Eater capable of shapeshifting, absorbing, and devouring her way to unimaginable power. The horror of her past violation was still a raw wound, but the future, though terrifying, now glittered with the dark promise of vengeance and absolute dominance.
She was naked, vulnerable in the open swamp, but within her thrummed the power of a nascent apex predator. The stream's cool water was a temporary reprieve, but the wilderness still demanded action.
Seraphina finally pushed herself out of the stream, her bare feet sinking slightly into the damp earth. The cool night air now felt less like a threat and more like a canvas for her new form. Her mind was racing, a tempest of shock, fear, and a terrifying, exhilarating power. She was a Humanoid Slime with a Monster Core, a Monster Eater capable of shapeshifting and consuming to grow.
Her immediate goal solidified: learn to transform into a slime. She needed to understand this new aspect of herself, to master it. A chilling thought, however, pricked at her enhanced awareness—the possibility of higher-level monsters noticing her during such an experimental transformation. It was a risk she'd have to take, but one to be approached with extreme caution.
Before any risky experimentation, however, a more pressing, primal need reasserted itself: clothes. She was still stark naked, exposed and vulnerable in a world teeming with unimaginable horrors.
With a mental command, her map flickered into existence. Her amethyst eyes scanned the glowing display. Her pulsing white dot marked her current location by the stream. Not too far from her, a vibrant yellow exclamation mark pulsed. It stood out against the dark greens and murky blues of the swamp-forest, clearly denoting an area of interest. It could be danger, or it could be salvation. Right now, it was her best lead.
With a destination now firmly in her mind – the promising yellow exclamation mark – Seraphina decided now was the time. Naked and vulnerable, she needed a way to move through this dangerous world unseen, and her new Transformation: Slime ability offered that potential.
Closing her eyes, she focused. The System had been annoyingly vague, simply stating "concentrate on it." She envisioned her form, solid and human, dissolving, flowing, becoming something amorphous and fluid. She pictured the water slime she had devoured, its gelatinous body, its ability to shift and slide. She reached deep within, seeking that alien Monster Core now beating alongside her human heart, feeling for the essence of the creature she had consumed.
A strange, internal liquefaction began. Her skin tingled, then prickled, then began to stretch and pull in impossible ways. Her muscles vibrated, and her bones felt as if they were dissolving, softening, losing their rigidity. A wave of nausea, thankfully brief, washed over her as her human form began to contort. The sensation was profoundly unsettling, like being slowly, painfully unmade.
Her hands were the first to truly change, losing definition, becoming translucent and wobbly. Then her arms, melding into her torso. Her legs followed, her feet pooling into the ground. A soft squish sounded as her entire body collapsed inward, losing all human shape.
In moments, where Seraphina had stood naked and defiant, there was now only a shimmering, translucent puddle of viscous, amethyst-tinged slime, roughly the size of her human form. It pulsated gently, a faint, ethereal glow emanating from its depths. She was no longer breathing, yet she existed, a conscious awareness contained within the gelatinous mass. The world looked different from this new perspective, colors muted, sounds vibrating through the ground more than the air.
She had done it. She was a slime.