Picture this

The third world war is coming. Guns, tanks, nukes—the entire lineup. Imagine knowing that in a few years, everything you knew would turn to ash, including yourself . You don't know the exact date, only knowing that it will start in a few years.

And then, imagine having a god-given ability to grow impossibly, non-scientifically, stronger by doing push-ups. Without limits.

If someone found themselves in such a situation, the smart, mathematically sound option wouldn't be debating politics, seeking peace, or hoping for miracles. It'd be push-ups—relentlessly—until they could tank nukes and parry bullets with their dick.

Distractions? Luxury. One misstep, and you could miss your shot at immortality. 

A funny thought, really. It was a nice analogy to my situation. The world war being the Promised Day the Dungeon hammered into my skull when it mind-raped me, and my push-ups involving much more munching. Other than that, it was mostly identical.

I ignored the pitiful cries of the mutilated Silverbacks, Hard Armoreds, Orcs, and Bats on the ground as Golbin prodded them with his knife. Thankfully, he wasn't sadistic—this was necessary to keep them squealing. The 12th floor was massive, a sprawling cavern of stone and mist thicker than cotton, and I wasn't about to waste time hunting monsters one by one. The dying screams of their brethren worked as well as any bait.

"All right, that's enough. There are a few more heading over. Leave these to me. Go kill an Orc and come back, then we'll move to the 13th floor."

He nodded, his eyes a mix of fear and obedience. I knew he didn't understand why I had him do these odd tasks, but he was too wary to argue. I couldn't blame him—if someone resurrected me and I knew for sure they could banish me back to the shadow realm with a slap, I'd keep my mouth shut too.

He was useful, if nothing else, as proof of concept. I could do some wacky soul manipulation on xenos (couldn't figure out how to do the same on regular monsters no matter how many times I tried). And there was potential—his stats were inching closer to peak level one, but the difference between that and the growth monsters experience when devouring cores was a mystery. 

Hopefully, the philosophy I was teaching him would allow him to realize if he wanted to be a goodie-two-shoes and praise the sun like the other xenos, in which case he was vulnerable to protagonist charisma and thus needed to be put down like a dog with rabies.

A blur of white fur jolted me from my thoughts. A fist, thrice the size of my head, streaked toward my face, propelled by a silver-furred behemoth. Silverback. Fast enough to make anyone scream—but my eyes were closed. Even so, I heard the wind, knew the trajectory, the mass behind it as it cut through the air. Just like I sensed everything moving within a dozen meters, a web of vibrations painting the picture. Beyond that range, things got hazy. It was weird, this Echolocation, but nifty as well.

The fist crashed into my head.

I could write a thesis on the impact alone. The kinetic energy collided with keratin plates covering my skin—thicker than rhino hide—and dispersed. Muscles tightened, anchoring me as my heels dug into the ground, countering the force. The punch barely pushed me back. Honestly, it didn't even tickle. Of all my body parts, my head was the most resistant to blunt trauma these days. 

I didn't give the Silverback time to regret its decision. Orc-strength arms—thick as tree trunks—rose, claws slicing through the air. They dug into the beast's massive hand, obsidian-black, sharp as razor wire. Flesh parted like warm butter; bone shattered under the pressure. It roared, a sound that died as quickly as it came when my claws found its throat.

No point in savoring victory. I plunged my hand into its chest, fingers closing around its magic stone. The life faded from its eyes as I yanked it out, crushing it between my teeth in one swift bite. A rush of mana swirled within, fueling that ever-familiar warmth as my body absorbed the energy. Quick. Efficient.

It was a nice feeling, how easy it felt to grow. The thrill of devouring something and becoming more. But I knew this would plateau. Stats slowed down when hunting things weaker than myself. Level two monsters would soon be the new menu.

As the dust settled, I glanced at my claws. They'd changed, a darker sheen coating their surface, the edge honed finer than before. 

An interesting piece of knowledge I'd picked up: traits affecting the same body part could merge, creating something superior. A simple tug at my soul strings, and the grafted abilities were all too eager to mingle. Painful as hell, but worth the effort.

Obsidian Kobold Claws

Obsidian Kobold Claws - The claws are dark as obsidian and possess a razor-sharp edge, capable of slicing through most materials with ease. The claws grow denser and sharper as one strengthens themselves.

Very nice.

Now, where was that little green critter?

.

---

.

A hundred or so meters on the vertical axis, within the Loki Familia's manor, Riveria Ljos Alf, the strongest Mage alive, maintained a polite expression as she listened to Ais's description of a black-masked adventurer. 

Outwardly, she appeared attentive, but inwardly, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement. Was she truly expected to keep track of every single rookie who wandered into the Dungeon? Adventurers came and went daily; some made waves, most disappeared as quickly as they arrived.

Ais, however, seemed persistent, and Riveria, ever the attentive listener, nodded along. 

"He's strange," Ais continued, her tone as neutral as ever. "I've seen him grow stronger in just two weeks… as much as some do in years."

Riveria's eyes widened, her relaxed posture stiffening as she processed the statement. "Excuse me, what?" she asked, the amusement vanishing from her mind. 

 "Describe him again. Every detail."

.

.

.

.

.

.

----------------

Choose 2 :

Silverbacks - 15/100

.

1. Silver Fur - The user's hair turns a metallic silver, gaining properties similar to thin armor. This fur provides a protective layer, increasing resistance to slashes and minor punctures. Low resistance to magic attacks.

.

2. Hand-Eye Coordination - Dexterity increases by 20%, enhancing the user's precision and control over their movements. Significantly improves accuracy in attacks, the ability to catch or deflect incoming objects, and fine motor skills necessary for delicate tasks or rapid maneuvers.

.

3. Sharp Teeth - The user's teeth transform into blade-like fangs, sharper than steel. These teeth are capable of tearing through flesh and even biting into armor. 

.

---

.

Choose 2:

.

Hard Armoured - 13/100

.

1. Hard Shell - The user grows a shell similar to that of an armadillo on their back. This shell is tough, providing substantial protection against slashes, stabs, and blunt force. 

.

2. Stab-Proof Hide - The skin thickens to such an extent that common blades are unable to pierce it. It also offers increased resistance to tearing and impact.

.

3. Minor Heat Resistance - The user's internal organs adapt to withstand heat, allowing them to endure high temperatures for a period of time without suffering damage.