I was trapped.

  I had no idea how many days I had been wandering through those corridors — hungry, furious, and exhausted. Every path led me into a dead end. The catastrophe monsters in this place were weak, no different from ordinary prey. Their frail bodies were mostly covered in corrupted matter, which my fangs tore through without effort.

  I ate and ate endlessly, yet I was never satisfied. I could stuff my jaws with that substance dozens of times — the very matter that coated everything around me — and still feel as if I had eaten half of a scrawny rabbit at best. Hopeless. After what I estimated to be about a week, I had devoured most of the corrupted creatures nearby: mutated snakes, rabbits, and bizarre half-fish, half-mantis abominations slithering across the dark-violet ground.

  All that remained was to eat, and eat, until I grew numb from it. No matter how much I consumed, I was never full. Over time, the weak aura contained within that matter accumulated inside me until I could feel it attacking me from within. The pain was immense, yet I had no choice but to eat whatever was at hand. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, and hours into days…

  Even as an extreme introvert by nature, I felt unbearably lonely. I even found myself missing that scheming vampire woman. Maybe — just maybe — she would have come up with something.

  Inside this place, I had far too much time to think. Too much. I imagined that once I escaped, I could live as a god of the goblins, lounging comfortably inside a secure stronghold, casually chewing on weeds and raw meat.

  Time passed, and I began to notice the change in myself — dark violet veins spreading across both heads and down my neck, my body soaked in the corrupting aura that seemed to saturate everything around me. I felt… different. Somehow, the dungeon itself seemed to recognize me less as an intruder, its monsters hesitating before attacking. My senses sharpened; I could perceive the faint traces of corrupted creatures from farther away, their presence a whisper against the background of the dark, oppressive corridors.

  It made descending to the lower levels slightly less perilous — though the air grew heavier and fouler with every step. A stench clung to the walls, thick and choking, and the oppressive aura pressed down on my chest like molten iron. I felt it in my lungs, burning with every breath. The matter covering the floor was hot and oozed a sickly steam, saturated with the same corrupting energy.

  I had never felt this terrible since awakening as a hydra. Even when I was burned alive during the battle by the river, the suffering and fear had been lesser than this. My eyes remained shut, my entire body ached, and breathing itself was agony. The aura of the wild dungeon crushed me, overwhelming my very being.

  Was this where I would die?

  That question echoed endlessly in my mind.

  I refused to rot here and dissolve into nothingness. I began biting and devouring as much of that heated, aura-filled matter as I could. I was struggling to stay conscious. It took countless hours to force myself to consume that filth. It tasted like crumbled stone and reeked of gasoline mixed with rotten slop.

  Disgusting.

  I was fighting myself. Back when I was human, I had read Goggins’ “Can’t Hurt Me” and other self-improvement bestsellers during my darkest moments, yet I had never been able to change for long. This time, I couldn’t afford failure.

  The hunger of a hydra was beyond comprehension. I no longer had the strength to control my second head and stop it from devouring the malicious, hellish matter soaked in ominous aura. I fought against the foreign energy invading my body, against the pain filling every corner of my existence.

  I did not let it kill me.

  Through sheer cursed stubbornness, I forced my body to adapt to the overwhelming corruption. The burning pain in my insides eased slightly — not gone, but more bearable, as if the poisonous aura around me had lost some of its sting. That small relief, however, was enough to give me the strength to push onward, step by agonizing step, until I finally emerged from the miasma-choked depths. At last, I could open my eyes without clenching my teeth in unbearable pain.

  I emerged into a place resembling a vast forest — yet still part of the wild dungeon. It was filled with corrupted matter, aura-tainted waters, and monsters only slightly weaker than myself. Without my newly acquired skills and resistance, I would not have survived long. The plants were poisonous and alive, attacking me in an attempt to devour me. Some were massive and hard as stone. More than once, I broke my fangs and claws on them, smashing them with my tail and slamming them into the ground until they finally yielded and could be eaten.

  I was so weakened that even walking felt difficult. I truly believed I am done for.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I felt like I spent most of my life within that inescapable prison. I hunted small but incredibly fast catastrophe creatures and plants above level twenty. Without my advantage in speed and mobility, I would have starved to death. Consuming matter had become like drinking sweetened water — I grew hungry faster than it could sustain me. I had long since lost the path back to the miasma. The dungeon itself was alive, constantly shifting its structure, leading me astray. It behaved as though it wanted me dead. Only a hydra’s instincts kept me alive.

  After a long time, I felt something change within me. My senses sharpened, fear no longer gripped me as easily when danger approached, and I could instinctively sense the presence of the more dangerous creatures around me. I could tell which monsters were mere weaklings, barely worth my effort, and which posed a real threat. This awareness saved me countless times, letting me conserve my strength and avoid unnecessary injuries that might have ended me in this cursed place.

  When I reached level [27], I finally felt strong enough to cross a poisonous river as wide as the Nile during a flood. Mutated fish gnawed at me beneath the surface while the current dragged me sideways, yet I refused to spend even one more hour in that cursed forest beneath a ceiling dripping with scalding, aura-filled sludge.

  Pushing myself beyond every limit, I found a way to endure the river. The crossing took what felt like an eternity—perhaps an hour, though it stretched like a full day — but I survived that cursed stretch.

  My body had adapted. I could move through the poisoned waters with a strange, fluid strength, and even the corruption that seared through the river’s depths no longer slowed my healing. Each step, each bite against the current, strengthened me in ways I had never expected. By the time I reached the far shore, I could feel the dungeon’s taint twisting less violently against my flesh, as if it had learned to accept me, at least a little.

  On the other side awaited a desert of pure catastrophe matter. It was the densest, most potent aura imaginable, and absorbing it felt like my insides were being seared with molten iron. A cursed land. I slowly lost myself — consumed by hunger, thirst, and above all, despair.

  I gazed toward the horizon and saw nothing but an endless dark-violet mass. No auras. No structures. Like a desert beneath a sealed sky. I trudged forward like a ship on an infinite ocean, the sludge splashing beneath my paws. My second head lost consciousness, and at some point, I felt a breath on my back.

  I sensed that I was being watched.

  I collapsed completely, surrendered, and waited for the end. Then I saw something extraordinary — something like a dream.

  A beautiful woman with a slender figure approached me barefoot, dressed in an ash-gray gown. A scar marked her neck, and she held a wand in her right hand. Her long raven-black hair and eyes contrasted sharply with her pale skin. She crouched before my head and laughed softly, as if she were looking at a helpless child.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve already given up, Mr. Oskar Zelek,” she said in a gentle, warm, almost angelic voice. “I thought you were capable of more. You possess potential — it’s a shame you hesitate to use it. Know this: among hundreds of millions of souls, I choose yours. There is something within you that longs to break free.”

  She raised her left hand, and a massive mirror emerged beside her. Within it, I saw myself from my previous life. I stood beside a beautiful woman hidden behind a veil. We rode in a luxurious Bugatti through breathtaking landscapes. I could not see her face, yet even as gray overtook my hair, she remained by my side. We were surrounded by numerous healthy children and grandchildren — smiling, happy. A fireplace crackled, marble walls bent beneath shelves of books, and a dog lounged on the rug.

  I felt bliss — something I had always wanted: peace, fulfillment, respect.

  Then the mirror shattered into thousands of fragments, vanishing into the filthy sludge. I could not force a single word from my throat. I was dying in both body and soul.

  “Well then… that is how your life could have turned out,” she said softly. “Could have? Or perhaps it still can? Who knows… Do not waste your second chance, and everything you dreamed of today may yet come true. My loss. I will help you one last time — only once more. For the second and final time.”

  She blinked, stuck out her tongue playfully, and waved her wand. In that instant, uncontrollable darkness swallowed my body. I felt cold — then warmth again. Something called out to me from afar…

  “Artax! Artax! You idiot! I told you to run — this is all my fault! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

  The vampire woman was crying. I saw two massive wounds torn open in my chest, a vast pool of blood beside me. A great catastrophe monster lay dead nearby, its body pulverized by countless strikes from Valeria’s summoned monsters, which now circled loyally around us.

  “I thought you were dead… You weren’t breathing. You weren’t responding. Swear to me you’ll never do this again!” she shouted, shaking my neck desperately, demanding comfort and a promise.

  Meanwhile, still overwhelmed by everything that had happened, I barely heard her words. Sensation slowly returned to my body. My second head gradually regained consciousness. The words of the mysterious woman echoed endlessly in my mind — I could not forget her gentle presence.

  Was it a dream?

  A dying hallucination?

  Madness?

  I checked my status and saw level [28], along with all those improvements and skills I had acquired during that hell.

  “What happened? Are you alright?” I finally managed to ask, still sprawled on my back. All I could think about was standing up, sealing this cursed place, killing the boss — and helping not only Valeria, but myself as well.

  “Forget me! I dealt with that beast quickly. What matters is you! What happened to you!? How are you alive!? That monster’s strike could have wounded a true wyvern!”

  I rose onto all my legs and looked around. Dozens of monsters lay dead. A massive half-boar, half-hedgehog creature lay shattered, its spines broken. Lost in thought, furious at my own weakness and starving, I lunged at it under Bloodlust, tearing it apart from below and devouring every morsel greedily.

  Valeria wiped her tears — the first I had ever seen from her.

  “I had a strange dream… I’ll tell you about it someday. For now, I need to become stronger and help you defeat the boss of this hell. Let's make you a queen — not just of goblins, but of all monsters. Shall we together obtain everything we desire in this life?”

  The vampire nodded, tightening her grip on her weapon.

  Together, we headed toward the boss’s lair.