System Notification: [Void-Touched Black Bear: Status — Dead]
[+50 XP | +11 Mana | Loot Available]
[Critical Kill Bonus: +12 XP, +6 Mana for Dungeon Core Slayer Action]
The experience flooded into me like a goddamn truck of pleasure. Pure, unfiltered, starburst-in-your-nerves pleasure. A deep, white-hot flush that ran from the soles of my feet all the way to my core. It wasn’t just a notification or a number. It was a wave. Then the mana hit me like a drug. No, like heat, like sunlight pouring through every nerve ending I didn’t know I had. It wasn’t clean or clinical, it was carnal. A radiant pressure filled me from the inside out, tingling along my skin, flooding my chest, curling low in my belly. I could feel it swirl and pool around my core. I could feel an ache in my breasts, and an urge to feel them. Then a wave of thick and golden and greedy, and I wanted more. My breath caught on a laugh, half-choked and half-wild, because how could anything so violent feel so good? The pleasure wasn’t just in the power; it was in claiming it. In knowing I’d earned it with blood and victory and pain.
I staggered back from the desk, both hands catching the edge. My knees buckled.
And I gasped.
It wasn’t pain. It was the greatest pleasure.
“I—” My breath hitched. I clutched my chest like I could hold it in. “It’s—inside me.”
“Whoa,” Bookbite said from his perch, his ears sticking straight up. “You alright there, boss?”
A sound broke out of me. A weird little hiccup of laughter.
And then I started laughing for real.
A long, breathless laugh that curled up from somewhere deep and dangerous inside me. I laughed until tears stung the corners of my eyes until my ribs ached, until I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
“Alright?” I said between gasps. “I feel amazing.”
Bookbite narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re not gonna go full Dark Queen on me, are you? I’m still waiting on my minion dental plan.”
I pressed my hand against the monitor, staring down at the corpse on the map. The bear was already dissolving; black and red haze smeared across the tiles. And I felt it. Not just the power. Not just the experience. The rightness. It had tried to hurt me. Hurt my creations. Invaded my dungeon. And I’d taken it down. I had taken it down.
“I get it now,” I whispered.
Bookbite’s tail swished. “Get what?”
“This feeling.” I looked up at him, grinning. “This power. This vengeance.” I tapped the map where the bear’s body was vanishing. “I was scared before. But the second it died. The second I won, everything made sense.”
My grin widened. I felt like a lightning bolt wearing skin. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
Bookbite leaned back slightly. “Well, that’s ominous.”
“Not evil,” I said, though I couldn’t stop the laughter from curling back up in my throat. “Not yet. Just… thrilling. Satisfying.”
I turned back toward the map. My first room—the front lawn, the bus loop—was clear.
“You felt that rush too, right? That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t just numbers. That was a high.”
“I didn’t feel it, but I saw you,” he said slowly. “You’re different now.”
I nodded. “Good.”
Deep in my chest, deep in the crystal burning inside my chest, something purred. Like it was hungry again. Like it was waiting. They’d come again. More beasts. More monsters. More adventurers. Thinking they could pass through me. But this was my dungeon. And I was ready.
I watched the bear dissolve like wet paper in a bonfire. First the fur, then the muscle, fat and other flesh of the beast sloughing off into a black mist that hissed. The air crackled. My skin buzzed. The scent of copper and mana filled my lungs as if I’d just stepped into a lightning storm and screamed back at the sky.
Then came the ping.
System Notification: [New Pattern Unlocked: Black Bear (Tier E)] Basic physical blueprint stored. Essence classified. Usable for summon variants, crafting templates, and terrain features.
I let out a gasp, okay, maybe a moan. No one was judging. Except Bookbite.
“Well,” he drawled from atop the filing cabinet, “you sure know how to celebrate an invasive species getting murked.”
“Don’t start,” I said, breathless, grinning. “That was better than coffee.”
I blinked, mouth dry, mana still humming like an electric current down my spine. “Wait… I get that? Like, the bear’s mine now?”
Bookbite gave me a toothy little smirk as he sauntered down from his favourite spot on top of the filing cabinet. “Welcome to pattern harvesting, boss. Anything non-intelligent that dies in your dungeon: wild monsters, animals, enchanted objects with no brain. You don’t just kill it. You keep it. Or the pattern of it”
I turned back to the scorched ground where the bear had died, half-expecting to see a save icon spin in the air. “So it’s like… bear loot?”
“Better than loot. You got the pattern. You can rebuild it, summon something like it, fuse it with other things… I dunno, stick its claws on a raccoon if you’re feeling spicy.” He gave me a wink. “Welcome to dungeon customization: goblin-abomination edition.”
I snorted. “Great. Just what I always wanted. The power to turn wildlife into horrifying murder plushies.”
Bookbite cackled. “Don’t tempt me with a void-touched beaver. You laugh, but territorial dam-monsters sell.”
System Notification: [New Features Available – View Details? Y/N]
“Ohhh yeah,” I whispered, hitting YES with all the excitement of a kid scratching a loot box ticket.
The notifications cascaded like confetti:
[New Room Type Unlocked: Predator’s Lair]: A forested cave-dwelling filled with natural obstacles. Boosts stealth and tracking bonuses for beast-type monsters. Intimidates intruders. Smells vaguely like a wet dog.
[Environmental Upgrade: Claw-Scratched Walls]: Aesthetic and functional. Sharp ridges now decorate dungeon corridors. Enemies take minor bleed damage in narrow passageways. Also looks super metal.
[Monster Pattern: Bear (E-tier)]: You may now spawn corrupted bears. Warning: not huggable.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
[Dungeon Trait Gained: Consumption Surge]: Passive. You gain double mana and XP when defeating non-intelligent wild beasts. 10-minute cooldown between triggers.
[Genetic Hybridization (Basic) Unlocked]: You may now attempt to merge pattern traits. Results may vary. Warning: Do not apply bear logic to goblin brains.
[Trap Blueprint Learned: Bone Claw Trap]: Trap that explodes upward with sharpened bone claws. Powered by muscle tension. Screams optional. (Fun addition: Screams, not yours.)
I spun around to Bookbite, still giddy. “Tell me that wasn’t worth it.”
“Worth what? Getting mauled, violated by mana, and now having a brain full of bear parts?” he said, eyeing me. “You’re glowing. It’s disturbing.”
“I feel like I could suplex a tree,” I laughed. “Or a principal. I’m unlocking bear physics, Bookbite.”
He smirked. “Well, got any plans for your new murder cub?”
I blinked. “I mean… no. I hadn’t gotten that far.”
“Oh come on,” he said, hopping down. “You could mount the pelt in the nurse’s office, use the head as a hat for a goblin chieftain, or, hear me out, construct a bear-shaped bathroom that just growls when someone sits down.”
“…Why does your mind always go to the toilets?”
“Because goblins are creative, Chloe. They’d worship a flush god if you let them. One even pitched a ‘bear biathlon’ where they ride mini bears with knives taped to the paws.”
I stared. “That’s horrifying.”
“And innovative. Think of the branding.”
Before I could respond, another ping popped up in my interface:
System Notification: [Loot Gained – Bear Remains]
- [Hardened Claws] x2 – Can be forged into weapons or trap triggers. Extremely sharp, slightly cursed.
- [Matted Hide Scrap] x4 – Good for ugly cloaks, ugly rugs, or ugly monster armour.
- [Bone Fragment (Dense)] x7 – Can be carved into crafting cores or rude statues.
- [Lingering Essence: Wild Hunger] – A rare crafting reagent. Smells like meat. Growls when shaken.
I couldn’t stop smiling. From fear to fury to this… this. Power, growth, chaos. I was starting to get it. And the best part? There were so many more things left… Kiley’s voice came from somewhere. Was it from behind my teeth? Grinding, constant. Is she always going to be there? Or… Always there when I wasn’t ready for it. Always smiled too wide when she twisted the knife. Oh my god, Chloe, are you seriously wearing that? I’m just trying to help.
She’d been helping since middle school. Helping teachers "understand" when I was having a bad day. Helping other girls laugh behind cupped hands. Helping me disappear one shove at a time.
I stood at the edge of the predator’s lair, mana still pulsing hot through my veins, the claw-scratched walls practically humming with leftover hunger. I could feel the shape of it now. The bear, its weight, its fury, its simplicity. There was no judgment in the way it tore things apart. No passive-aggressive whispering. Just blood and truth.
I imagined her stepping through the dungeon gates, blinking in confusion at the air, thinking this was some kind of twisted VR field trip. Her voice rose in that fake-innocent way. Hello? Is anyone here? Chloe? This place smells like wet dog and Axe body spray.
And then it would find her. That thing born from void and memory and now me. No buildup. No warning. Just claws, teeth, and silence.
I wouldn’t stop it. I wouldn’t want to.
I’d watch her vanish under the weight of my monster’s jaws, dragged screaming into the tunnels. She’d mock me, let us see how she likes to become bear shit. And when it was done, when the blood was part of the stone and the echo of her last insult was gone from my ears—I’d feel clean. Light. Rebuilt.
It wasn’t just vengeance. It was designed. My dungeon design, I didn’t need to be fair, she never was. It needed to be honest. And this—this was honesty in motion.
Bookbite let out a low whistle beside me seeing the expression on my face. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
I smiled, slow and sharp. “Don’t worry. You’re useful.”
He gave an odd weird goblin laugh as if I suggested feeding him to kindergarteners. Taking a breath, I went back at it. My mana was full, after all.
I squinted at the glowing screen still floating in front of me, the edges pulsing with a faint desire to start building. “Hey, Bookbite? Did the system always sound like this?” I waved a hand through the notification, mimicking its smug tone. “Like it’s… I dunno—trying to sell me blood-flavoured cereal?”
Bookbite didn’t even look up from where he was stitching together a goblin sock-puppet for reasons I refused to investigate. “Mmm,” he hummed, then giggled. Actually giggled.
“Wait—do you know something?” I asked.
“Oh, I know lots of things,” he said with a grin full of secrets. “But about this? Nope. Nada. Can’t say.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Yes.”
I rolled my eyes. “System-fucker.”
He bowed, dramatically. “That’s Mister System-Fucker, thank you. But I like it too—it’s got spunch now. Who knows, maybe the eye guy is watching you.”
I rolled my eyes, the way only a teenage girl could. I might be turning 19 in a few weeks, even if this body was in its 20s, so I could give as much attitude as a goblin. “Spunch isn’t a word.”
“It is now,” he said, as he started to tap like an Irish dancer.
I turned back to my User Interface, my desk or UI for short, my heart still pounding. The bear’s shape had already been folded neatly into my library. Tier E. Low rank. But it was mine. My dungeon had killed something real. And now I had its blueprint tucked away like a pressed flower between the pages of some ancient, evil scrapbook.
“I… think I like this,” I said, mostly to myself.
Bookbite gave me a slow nod, his grin turning conspiratorial. “Of course you do. Power’s like chocolate, boss. A little makes you curious. A lot makes you hungry.”
I laughed, just once, sharp and breathless. “Then I hope the next poor idiot who wanders in brings snacks.”
Bookbite stretched out on top of the old metal filing cabinet like a lazy cat, arms folded behind his lumpy head, one knee bouncing absently. “So,” he said, eyes gleaming, “you gonna do anything with that bear? Or just let it sit in the pattern vault like a dusty trophy?”
I frowned at the UI, the faint outline of a bear hovering there like a wireframe ghost. “I don’t know. I mean. It’s huge. It’s strong. But it also nearly turned my Windigo-Moms into chew toys. I’m not sure I want something like that loose again.”
Bookbite perked up. “See, that’s the wrong way to think about it. It is your bear, just like the moms don’t attack you. It doesn’t have to be the same bear. It can be bear-adjacent. Bear-flavored. You could summon a smaller version. Give it, I dunno, legs made of lockers, or glowing red eyes and a cafeteria tray for a jaw.”
I stared. “That’s… specific.”
“You haven’t lived till you’ve seen someone get mauled by a bear with a food court aesthetic,” Bookbite said, completely serious. “Or—ooh! Make it a mount! Goblins love mounts. Slap a saddle on it, duct tape a javelin rack to its back, and you’ve got a budget war beast.”
I tried to picture it. One of Bookbite’s kin riding a bear like a rodeo goblin from hell. “That sounds horrifying.”
“Which means effective. Or hey, it could be a terrain feature. Make it a half-buried statue in one of your outdoor rooms. Maybe it growls when people walk past. Real classy. Real museum-of-regret vibes.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “You're just throwing goblin fever dreams at me now.”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “That’s goblin dungeon design, boss. You’ve got a bear blueprint. Might as well get weird with it. How else am I going to evolve with you?”
I glanced back at the pattern. Yeah. Maybe I would.
Bookbite sat up as if he’d been personally invited to the Goblin TED Talk on “Creative Chaos 101.” He jabbed a clawed finger at the UI. “Okay, okay, hear me out. Bear… but it’s wearing a little principal’s vest. Maybe a tiny tie. Call it Vice Principal Maul. It patrols detention rooms and mauls anyone who skips class.”
I snorted. “That’s unhinged.”
“Exactly. Discipline with claws! Or… or, wait, make it part of a trap room! Bear statue, right? Kids walk in, and read some creepy plaque like ‘Do Not Tap the Bear’—boom. They tap. Bears explode out of the wall like a birthday surprise from hell.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You're describing a horror version of Build-A-Bear.”
“Build-A-Bear… but it builds you into regret. And what if you split it in half and use just the top part as a security system? Like it’s crawling out of the floor eternally. ‘Help, I’m half bear!’” He flailed his arms around dramatically.
I laughed despite myself. “That sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“Only if they survive to file one!” he shot back with a grin. “Ooh, how about a goblin jousting bear mounts? We give the bear rollerblades and make it part of a sports arena. Goblins zooming around, smacking each other with yardsticks. I call it Bear Derby.”
“You’re not allowed to name things anymore,” I said, still grinning.
Bookbite flopped back against the cabinet with a satisfied sigh. “Chloe, you’ve been given the void equivalent of a LEGO set. You have to get weird. If I had that pattern, I’d already have three versions: one full-size, one toaster-sized, and one that only attacks people who wear crocs.”
I wiped a tear from my eye. “Why Crocs?”
He looked at me, dead serious. “Because fashion has consequences.”