Green slime splatter, out on the ground, with every step I took. My deep breath echoed through the cavern. And The teeth on my feet scratched against the floor, making a deafening screech.

As I walk forward, the abominations, known as the dungeon creatures, groveled before me. Filthy beasts. All they care about it eating, fucking, and killing each other, and the ones from above.

“But”, one of them said. “Isn't that a little incongruous?”

So it is. Ironic, more, really. To hate that which you are yourself. I am just like them, those monsters, who only live for their forever unsatisfied urges.

It wasn't always like this, of course. Before, I was one of the others, looking down from above, with disgust clear in my face.

“To become what you always detested”, they said, a perfect harmony to their voices. “Fitting end, for one so grand as you.”

Want me to erase your existence? All it would take me is but a simple thought!

“We wouldn't mind, really”, they said. “If you sink the ship, we both go down. After all these years, we have yearned one single, simple thing. Your demise.”

With my anger rising, I behead those, who showed their necks. Trust is never something you should give. It is only something to prey on.

But, it seemed the memories were resurfacing. I dreaded being reminded of it all, sure, but it was good to remember who to kill first. Just the thought of it made me giddy.

Where did this whole endeavor start? I guess, it started a long time ago, with a noisy screech signaling the instant it began. That is the wail of my newborn son, Hel. The first and last child I ever had. Oh, that son of a whore, both literally and figuratively.

At first, Hel seemed to be an ordinary, and completely normal, kid. Nothing special about him. Then, his Talent awakened. I had hoped that he would follow after me, and become a Morpher, a bender of Reality itself, but fate wasn't kind to me that day. Hel awakened something that, I later would know, was called the Soul Talent. It was one of the rarest Talents, up amongst the Talent I had and was a privilege to have. A Talent directed at looking within, directly opposed to My Talent, with it being directed at looking outside oneself. Our Talent were opposites.

All of this had been fine by me. While I wouldn't be able to let him walk in my footsteps, he could always be my Apprentice out in the field. But, as the last time that I had hoped for my way, Hel found his own. Instead of being taught by me, a world-renowned Mage, he chose to be taught by Terry Pratchett. Terry Pratchett, the old man who couldn't even see without glasses, and couldn't walk without somebody to guide him. Pratchett was a genius, sure, but the man was without a Talent. Even his Mana Talent was classified as terrible.

When I learned of my son's choice, I had felt abhorrence from it. He would choose a peasant from a Royal? An untrained from a master? An ant from a god? I couldn't believe the arrogance of my own son. Surely, he would realize his mistakes, and ask for forgiveness.

But, he never did, and, as time went on, I began to realize my mistakes. The old man wasn't a genius. He was a prodigy! While never having experienced the feel of my Mana itself, the man taught Channeling techniques that he had created himself. I had used decades making a lesser Channeling Technique. In just a few months, the old man had made three of master quality, specifically made for Hel. Oh, how jealousy filled me when I heard of the old man's abilities. I wanted some for myself. Wait, no, scratch that. I wanted EVERYTHING for myself.

So, I asked the old man for it. I offered many things, with every new offer being better than the last. First, I offered pure silver, but he refused, stating that material wealth did not interest him. Then, I offered him untainted gold, but he simply refused again, stating that material wealth did not interest him. After that it was power, and then a longer life. After that, I even began lying in the hopes that anything would interest him.

But, the old man caught on by the third line. He chuckled at me and stated; “Only a worthy man shall get a worthy reward. You, my friend, is the most unworthy of all.”

I, of course, didn't take kindly to those words of his. How he even dared to talk down to me, after I offered to trade instead of simply take, baffled me.

Not wanting to be killed for my actions, I destroyed the body with my powers. Wouldn't be good enough burying the body. The Seers would find it in no time, and find me responsible. I was never caught for what I had done, luckily for me. But, it wasn't as happy an ending as I had hoped for. Hel somehow figured out my actions. He never told me, of course, but one look into those eyes of his, and you could see the somehow-restrained fury hiding behind them.

Maybe it was because of this that caused his massive power-spike, or maybe it was something else. One thing's for certain, though. In a single year, he accomplished what took me a century. His Talent and Power was unrivaled for his age. Even climbed the ladder with that accursed wolf of his. It was a mystery how he tamed that accursed beast.

As the years passed, Hel grew closer and closer to my levels of power. I think it was there that I began feeling something that had gone unfelt for almost a century.

Fear. The knowledge that you would properly soon die. It was obvious, who would be the bringer of that faith. My son, Hel.

I knew that I had to do something, or my son would take his revenge. His Talent had been the most frightful. He didn't kill anybody. No, he did something much worse. He made them kill themselves. He made them dig out the inside of their throat with their own fingernails. Nobody really understood why he did this. But I did. He simply wanted to show me. Show me what would soon be my fate.

Because I felt as if I simply had no choice. Remember the weaker Channeling technique I had created? Well, it wasn't weaker because of the power you gained from it. No, you actually gained power in mass with it. It was the side-effects that you would gain.

The technique focused on one concept. Assimilation. Specifically, the Assimilation with magical creatures. To extract the powers and abilities of others, and assimilate them into my own.

For me, and my Talent, it was unsuited. Every time I trained, it would be in the outside world. Anything other than myself. Every time I tried anything on myself, I would simply grant myself massive agony, without any result to show for it. My Talent technically allowed for it, but I never trained myself in it.

Then, when I needed it, I regretted never learning its ways. If I had, its effects could have been lesser. Maybe I could have stayed even remotely human.

You see, I didn't only acquire the power and abilities of the creatures. I also acquired their mind, their traits, their likeness, and their very souls. With each creature, I luckily only gained scraps of each. A small patch fur there and a lizard finger there. But, like everything they began adding up. I stopped going from monster to monster. Instead, I simply went over massive areas and Assimilated with EVERYTHING. Each time, nothing would be left over. Nothing but a dead, barren wasteland.

But, did I really care about the destruction I caused? Of course not! Why would I?

And, after only months of this, my goal had been reached. After all those souls I had assimilated with, my soul had become indestructible. When Hel tried to kill me, he could do nothing. For him, it must have been like he was trying to control a country's worth of people at once. An impossible task for one man alone. My son fled, with me laughing in at his back as he did.

Now, did I stop Assimilating after my goal had been reached? Looking back, I probably should have. But, the gains in power had become like an addiction. Each new injection seems less powerful than the first.

I needed to up the doses. Before I simply destroyed a couple hundred creatures each time. Simply doing it one at a time had become meaningless. I needed something better. But, it would be impossible to further my reach. So, that meant that I needed something that was stronger individually. Then it came upon me. Why not hunt other Mages? They had more than plenty of power. They could share a little. Maybe half. Maybe All.

So I did. The first city to go was my hometown. Never liked the place. Better for me to get powerful than for them to live. After that, it was simply the next city. And the next. And the next. And the next.

Some tried to stop me, but they couldn't. Before they neared me, they would be Assimilated into myself, a small part of them screaming while they felt the agony of being split up in two. It was annoying to hear all those voices every time I assimilated, but I learned to ignore. Small price to pay for power.

With that, I simply continued on. With each thing Assimilated, I would grow less human, and more monster. Some, before dying before me, called me an abomination. They didn't understand. It was simply a price for the power. In my place, they would have done the same.

As the years passed, my power grew and grew. It had grown to over a thousand from when I first started multiple times. My son had long since given up on revenging the old pricks death. Nothing could kill me. I was simply too sturdy. My soul was simply too sturdy.

But, alas, my increases in my powers did not grow unnoticed. The elders saw the potential monster I could become, and immediately stopped any chance of becoming it.

They couldn't kill me. Any chance of killing me had disappeared long ago. That didn't mean I was untouchable to them, though. They easily stripped me of neigh all of my powers. Only scraps of what was remained, when they were done with me.

After being done with me, they left me on the ground. I was a weakling once more. Once a zero, then a hero, and then zero again.

Many people came after me when they heard the news. Almost all of them wanted my death. Others weren't so… nice. They all had ideas that they wanted to test on me, such as; How long until a monsters mind breaks. They never really got the answer to that one. Gave up after a decade. By the end, I wished I had gone insane. The voices didn't let me, though. Before, they had no control over me. They couldn't touch me. Now, they forced me forwards, as if I was a puppet.

It was then after people had grown bored of me being tortured, that one of the people got a great idea. Why not put me in one of my dungeons? I could serve as the final boss, for as long as the universe would exist. Oh, how I hated the bitch that came up with it. I never learned of her name. The only thing I knew about her was her rusty colored hair.

The others thought it would be a great idea, and put inside right away, locking me in a cage, where I would be able to spend the rest of my days. Just so they knew I would have it comfortably. They made a clock that would spew a new kind of acid on me every hour. Fun.

In that cage, I spent a long time. How long I don't know. I don't wanna know. I think the voices counted, but they don't wanna tell me. “Let us surprise”, they would always say. They said that to most things. How I almost yearn for that surprise.

Now, though, I am free. I was set free.

It's time to begin the feast once again.