Descent into Monstrosity
East of the Carbon Kingdom lay the Dead Sea. Somewhere within it lurked Monster Island.
Even in this ocean teeming with horrors, crawling with every manner of beast, the island stood out as a nightmare whispered in ghost stories. No one knew when it had first appeared, or what truly dwelled there—no official records existed. Vast as half of Jeju Island, its ecosystem was deceptively simple. A volcanic isle rising in elevation toward the center, where the monsters grew proportionally stronger the deeper you ventured.
In the expansive central highlands: ogres. Thunderbirds nesting in high cliff crevices. And the colossal cyclops that occasionally lumbered from its cave to hurl boulders at those nests.
Toward the edges: goblin packs roaming the coastal thickets in search of food. Troll gangs, orc tribes, thunderbirds—all carving out survival in terrains suited to their strengths.
Nor were monsters the only inhabitants. Grassy plains and minor thickets near the shore hosted rabbits, deer, rats, foxes, wildcats. Dense jungle valleys sheltered boars, bears, tigers—predators locked in a delicate balance with the monsters, devouring or devoured.
In that sense...
"Keeek?!"
"Kweek!"
"Kiiit? Kiit!"
...the goblins on the move right now could be called the monsters that best maintained the island's lower-ecosystem balance. Strong enough to hunt rabbits, deer, rats, foxes—but easy prey for troll or orc packs that roamed in similar groups. To survive in that precarious niche, their most developed sense was danger detection.
Hunting under moonlight. Forming minimal groups ideal for stealthy predation, posting their nimblest as scouts. All rooted in that instinct.
"Kigik?!"
But this goblin scout's reaction was off.
"Kikikikigi!"
Wild gestures signaling back to the pack leader in the thicket: Stop.
The pack rebelled.
"Kek?!"
"Kigik! Kikikikigi!"
"Kui! Kuuui!"
"Kiiiiik!"
A wounded fox visible behind the scout. A massive boulder where it limped. Prey bleeding right there—why stop? The goblins pushed through the brush, creeping forward.
"Keeek! Kiiiik!"
The scout frantically signaled back, exasperated.
"Kugik? Kikikik! Kiiiiii! Kwee, kweeeee! Kigigigiii!"
Don't you remember? That guy with the unfamiliar scent. The one who stole our food and ran. Not troll, not orc—but spotted killing our kin nearby. Might be him! Stop!
The warning fell on deaf ears.
"Kigik! Kikikikikikiii!"
Fuck off—you just wanna hog the tasty bits first? One goblin pointed at the boulder behind the fox, signaling that intent. The rest charged past the scout.
"Kugik!"
"Kiii!"
"Kigigik!"
As their yellowed fangs bared in greedy grins, shoulders brushing the scout's...
Crack!
The lead goblin's face hung in midair a moment, then momentum hurled its body skyward before it crashed down.
The pack stared at their comrade's shattered face. As they looked up...
"One."
Thud!
"One-two."
Splat!
From behind the boulder emerged the monster's brutal strikes. Two charging goblins clutched exploding green-smeared faces and crumpled.
The rest gripped dagger-like weapons, battle-ready at the sight.
"Kiiii!"
"Kiririk!"
"Kugik!"
"Kweegik!"
It's him! The freak around here lately! Kill! No fear—he ran from us before! Looks tasty!
Thus, before the goblins—yellow eyes agleam, drool dripping from gaping maws...
The monster.
"......Come on."
...a human form bulging with rugged muscle growled through eyes blazing murder.
***
"Kieeeek!"
The last goblin slammed into a tree and dropped. Its innards ruptured from the back-kick, green blood spilling from its maw alongside the clattering dagger. Combat over.
Splatters of blood pooled. Goblin corpses piled haphazardly atop it. I sat there, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.
"Whew."
A deep breath brought the taste of iron. Nosebleed. I snorted it out in one go, then checked my body. Not just the nose—scrapes on arms to shoulders, abdomen, all beading blood.
"Ha. This is insane."
I grimaced. Not from lack of satisfaction. The muscle flex of each punch, the surge through my body from gut-kicks and spinning elbows—it felt damn good.
"Still a long way to go..."
But against these goblins, I needed to dominate far more overwhelmingly. First time taking a whole pack, sure—but in this novel, goblins weren't major threats. Like facing eight punks with box cutters? Bottom of the island's food chain. Can't ascend without crushing them unscathed.
"Hoo."
Sighing, I eyed my reflection in the blood pool. Pecs gleaming with gore and sweat, cannonball delts, veins bulging on thick forearms. Like a fighter juiced to the max on banned gear.
But still human limits. Not enough.
"Ascension's a pipe dream."
Per the author's comments: survive, ascend, return home. Ascension—a realm from the novel, where elite mages or swordsmen shed human frailty at potential's peak. Familiar to a wuxia fan like me, like becoming an immortal. Not incomprehensible in a world where aura cloaks blades.
But facing down a goblin pack made it real. How brutally hard.
"Hell, just surviving's the issue."
Weeks of training and scavenging had bulked this monstrous body, but progress crawled. I needed to accelerate—way faster. Scouring the island's edge for food revealed its true hellishness.
Swamps: hyena-jawed troll packs.
Plains: stench-belching orc tribes.
Both leagues beyond goblins. Pre-strength gains, I'd dodged goblins only to nearly skewer on a troll sentry's spear.
Even skirting the perimeter, you'd hit a tribe every so often—diverse packs everywhere. If that were all...
Skreeeeee!
A jet-like shriek, then distant goblins and brush pulped to red mist.
Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!
A massive head from a cave afar, shattering an orc barricade, flinging meat chunks.
Thunderbirds. Ogres.
Hahat! Oh, seeing what I slew—thunderbirds, ogres too!
Sub-male lead's ball brag. But described as natural disasters—soldiers in squads couldn't take 'em.
And predators deemed fiercer still...
Ah! Can't forget the cyclops!
Cyclops. Lurking central valleys, hurling house-sized rocks like marbles.
Summary: The goblin pack I just scarred myself over? Bottom-feeders, hunted unilaterally by orc tribes those lunatics solo-wrecked.
No joy in this monster body. At this pace, upper predators or island collapse would end me first.
Realization hit again. How utterly fucked this was. Strength drained from my limbs.
Despair, futility, impatience swirled to drag me down—but...
"...Overcome!"
Slap!
I smacked both cheeks hard. Blood burst in my mouth, mind snapping alert.
"Fuck, you think I'm dying?!"
I'll survive, no question. Shove distractions aside, review the escape plan.
Key: tentacle beasts ringing the isle. Novel hinted cyclops-tier strength. Roots unknown, but one lash sinks a frigate.
Thus...
"Gotta become a monster that surpasses my current self."
Grow cyclops-strong, hurl boulders to smash every tentacle, raft out. Recalling the sub-lead's boast, I plotted acceleration.
The gem in the cyclops's forehead? Worth a palace. Monster meat fetches high for knights, mages—but I slew for safety alone.
Yeah. Purified monster blood and flesh nourished aura/mana wielders.
I eyed the cooling goblin corpses. Thick near-black green blood reeked, assaulting my sharpened nose.
Grimacing, I knelt slowly. Post-fight, tensed muscles screamed faintly.
Fuckin' hell.
Eat now, and this body's hyper-regeneration would explode beyond imagination. Novel said purify first—but...
[Poison Resistance]
[Infection Resistance]
...my experiment-forged body shrugged that off.
Have to, right?
Eyes squeezed shut, I lifted a goblin corpse. Could haul to base, cook—but far off, enemies unknown, fire unwise. And stronger foes loomed daily; better conquer revulsion now.
Thus, eyes clenched, I gaped wide.
Crunch.
Good.
Until now: human realm. From here: beyond.
Tartare. Think tartare. Orc's like pork grilled right. Raw meat's fine. They eat their own raw.
Shoved fallen goblin chunk in, chewed.
Crunch.
Vomit surged instantly.
"Urk—bleeeech!"
Raw goblin flesh unleashed indescribable foulness. Saliva splattered; tears welled. I spat curses.
"Fuck! You fucking shits!"
Then rage and injustice boiled from deep within. Followed by the question.
Why? Why me? Why this?
Fundamentally.
This world I possessed? A romance fantasy brimming with dreams and hope.
Every chapter: at least a page of sweet banter, flirty couples.
The ball introducing the sub-lead boasting island purge? Adorable dances, cute antics. Pouting ladies over cake slices, gentlemen's cutesy swordplay to soothe. That world.
Even elites' monster meat: processed like chicken or pork.
"Why... only me?"
The words spilled from my gore-smeared lips.
What sin? I just fixed that hack author's bullshit training depictions. Nothing else.
So why? Why was I trembling in this survival hell?
Plop. Ass in blood, depths stirred.
"..........I'll kill 'em."
Rage swelled slowly.
"..........Once I'm out, that publisher first."
Then that flower-brained author—make 'em pay, somehow. Ascension or bullshit, whatever it takes! Possible or not, every trick to repay this nightmare!
With that...
..........Crunch.
Vengeance-fueled, I chewed monster flesh.
..........Gulp.
Deep in this cursed body...
BOOM!
Something erupted.