More food
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 8
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Emberlynn stood in the center of her glowing bedroom, chest still heaving from the last rush of stolen power. A wicked, arrogant smile curled her black-painted lips. “Pathetic little snacks,” she muttered, voice dripping with snobbish superiority. “But I’m still hungry. So very, very hungry.”
It wasn’t food. Her stomach wasn’t empty. This was deeper—a ravenous, aching void inside her bones that screamed for more eldritch essence, more raw, cosmic power. She placed one hand on her newly curved hip, the other tapping her long, elegant fingernail against her chin.
She glanced at the heavy black book lying open on the floor. Then she laughed—a low, haughty chuckle that rose into her familiar high-pitched squeal. “Oh please, as if I need you anymore, darling. The spell is right here.” She tapped her temple. “Burned into my perfect little mind. Just like that smug witch from that one manga I adore—the one who looked down on everyone while the world burned around her. That’s me now. Except I’m going to be so much better.”
With a theatrical flick of her wrist she sent the book sailing through the air. It landed softly on her bed. Emberlynn stepped forward, arms akimbo, chin lifted, the picture of arrogant command. The salt circle still shimmered faintly. She raised one long, feminine finger toward the center, licked her lips slowly in greedy anticipation, and spoke the incantation she now knew by heart, each syllable dripping smug confidence.
“Ia! Ia! Rise, you worthless worm of the outer dark! Come to your new mistress—now!”
She braced her stance, pouring every ounce of her fresh power into the call, willing something bigger, something worthy of her greatness.
A savage gust of wind exploded through the room, whipping her hoodie and skirt, scattering papers and making the fabric tentacles thrash like living things. Emberlynn’s large brown eyes flared bright, vivid purple, glowing like twin stars for nearly a full minute as the rift tore open.
The thing that tumbled through was… exactly the same size as the last two.
A stinking, quivering lump of rotting fish-fat blubber, slick with slime, studded with thrashing octopus tentacles that smelled of brine and decay. It had no face, only a cluster of gasping mouths and one furious, bloodshot eye.
Emberlynn’s glowing eyes dimmed. She stared in pure, snobbish disappointment.
“Ugh. Seriously? Another one of these?”
The abomination roared and lunged, tentacles flailing. It slammed into the invisible wall of the circle and rebounded with a wet slap.
Emberlynn crossed her arms over her fuller chest, furious. “How dare you show up looking like that? I asked for power, not garbage. You’re barely a snack.” She waved one long finger dismissively, then snapped it. “Come here.”
The creature shrieked as its essence ripped free. Emberlynn snorted in contempt, head tilted back, lips parted in disdain while the monster’s screams filled the room. She absorbed every drop without even blinking.
The same thing happened four more times. Each new abomination was identical—small, smelly, furious, and trapped. Each time she summoned one with the same arrogant flick of her finger, the same haughty command, the same contemptuous snap. Each time she drank its energy like cheap wine, growing more annoyed.
With every absorption her body changed, though the shifts were now subtle, almost teasing. Her hair spilled farther down her back, the turquoise and pink slowly bleeding into a soft, luminous light purple that shimmered like starlight. Her waist cinched a little more, her hips rounded, her breasts lifted and swelled gently against the now-looser hoodie. Her skin paled to flawless porcelain, her legs toned with a faint athletic grace beneath the stockings. She looked more feminine, more sensual, more dangerously sexy with every passing minute, yet she noticed none of it—only the gnawing hunger that refused to be satisfied.
After the fifth small monster vanished, Emberlynn finally stopped. She stood panting in the circle, fists clenched, purple eyes blazing with rage and despair.
“This is ridiculous!” she shrieked, voice cracking high. “I’m supposed to be ascending! Becoming a goddess! Not nibbling on these… these pathetic little fish blobs! I want something huge! Something that will make the stars scream! Why is everything so small?!”
She spun, stomping her foot like a spoiled child. “I need the book. I need better spells. I—”
She raised her hand without thinking.
The heavy black tome lifted from the bed, floated across the room, and slapped neatly into her palm.
Emberlynn froze. Her rage vanished in an instant, replaced by wide-eyed, delighted shock.
“Oh… oh my god. Did I just…?”
She flexed her fingers. The book obeyed, pages riffling open on their own. A warm, electric thrill raced up her arm. Pure, raw eldritch energy danced at her command.
For a moment she forgot her frustration entirely. A wicked, triumphant grin spread across her face.
“Well now… that’s more like it.”
She opened the book wider, flipping through the linen pages with growing excitement. Most of the text was still locked—twisting, incomprehensible glyphs that made her temples throb. But a few lines here and there now shimmered into clarity, as if the book itself was slowly deciding she was worthy.
Emberlynn’s purple eyes narrowed with fresh, arrogant hunger.
“Fine,” she whispered, licking her lips again. “If the little ones won’t satisfy me… I’ll just have to learn how to call something bigger.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed, the glowing purple-pink light of her room reflecting in her eyes like distant galaxies waking up, and began to read the few unlocked passages with the smug confidence of someone who already knew she was unstoppable.
What she do now?
It wasn’t food. Her stomach wasn’t empty. This was deeper—a ravenous, aching void inside her bones that screamed for more eldritch essence, more raw, cosmic power. She placed one hand on her newly curved hip, the other tapping her long, elegant fingernail against her chin.
She glanced at the heavy black book lying open on the floor. Then she laughed—a low, haughty chuckle that rose into her familiar high-pitched squeal. “Oh please, as if I need you anymore, darling. The spell is right here.” She tapped her temple. “Burned into my perfect little mind. Just like that smug witch from that one manga I adore—the one who looked down on everyone while the world burned around her. That’s me now. Except I’m going to be so much better.”
With a theatrical flick of her wrist she sent the book sailing through the air. It landed softly on her bed. Emberlynn stepped forward, arms akimbo, chin lifted, the picture of arrogant command. The salt circle still shimmered faintly. She raised one long, feminine finger toward the center, licked her lips slowly in greedy anticipation, and spoke the incantation she now knew by heart, each syllable dripping smug confidence.
“Ia! Ia! Rise, you worthless worm of the outer dark! Come to your new mistress—now!”
She braced her stance, pouring every ounce of her fresh power into the call, willing something bigger, something worthy of her greatness.
A savage gust of wind exploded through the room, whipping her hoodie and skirt, scattering papers and making the fabric tentacles thrash like living things. Emberlynn’s large brown eyes flared bright, vivid purple, glowing like twin stars for nearly a full minute as the rift tore open.
The thing that tumbled through was… exactly the same size as the last two.
A stinking, quivering lump of rotting fish-fat blubber, slick with slime, studded with thrashing octopus tentacles that smelled of brine and decay. It had no face, only a cluster of gasping mouths and one furious, bloodshot eye.
Emberlynn’s glowing eyes dimmed. She stared in pure, snobbish disappointment.
“Ugh. Seriously? Another one of these?”
The abomination roared and lunged, tentacles flailing. It slammed into the invisible wall of the circle and rebounded with a wet slap.
Emberlynn crossed her arms over her fuller chest, furious. “How dare you show up looking like that? I asked for power, not garbage. You’re barely a snack.” She waved one long finger dismissively, then snapped it. “Come here.”
The creature shrieked as its essence ripped free. Emberlynn snorted in contempt, head tilted back, lips parted in disdain while the monster’s screams filled the room. She absorbed every drop without even blinking.
The same thing happened four more times. Each new abomination was identical—small, smelly, furious, and trapped. Each time she summoned one with the same arrogant flick of her finger, the same haughty command, the same contemptuous snap. Each time she drank its energy like cheap wine, growing more annoyed.
With every absorption her body changed, though the shifts were now subtle, almost teasing. Her hair spilled farther down her back, the turquoise and pink slowly bleeding into a soft, luminous light purple that shimmered like starlight. Her waist cinched a little more, her hips rounded, her breasts lifted and swelled gently against the now-looser hoodie. Her skin paled to flawless porcelain, her legs toned with a faint athletic grace beneath the stockings. She looked more feminine, more sensual, more dangerously sexy with every passing minute, yet she noticed none of it—only the gnawing hunger that refused to be satisfied.
After the fifth small monster vanished, Emberlynn finally stopped. She stood panting in the circle, fists clenched, purple eyes blazing with rage and despair.
“This is ridiculous!” she shrieked, voice cracking high. “I’m supposed to be ascending! Becoming a goddess! Not nibbling on these… these pathetic little fish blobs! I want something huge! Something that will make the stars scream! Why is everything so small?!”
She spun, stomping her foot like a spoiled child. “I need the book. I need better spells. I—”
She raised her hand without thinking.
The heavy black tome lifted from the bed, floated across the room, and slapped neatly into her palm.
Emberlynn froze. Her rage vanished in an instant, replaced by wide-eyed, delighted shock.
“Oh… oh my god. Did I just…?”
She flexed her fingers. The book obeyed, pages riffling open on their own. A warm, electric thrill raced up her arm. Pure, raw eldritch energy danced at her command.
For a moment she forgot her frustration entirely. A wicked, triumphant grin spread across her face.
“Well now… that’s more like it.”
She opened the book wider, flipping through the linen pages with growing excitement. Most of the text was still locked—twisting, incomprehensible glyphs that made her temples throb. But a few lines here and there now shimmered into clarity, as if the book itself was slowly deciding she was worthy.
Emberlynn’s purple eyes narrowed with fresh, arrogant hunger.
“Fine,” she whispered, licking her lips again. “If the little ones won’t satisfy me… I’ll just have to learn how to call something bigger.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed, the glowing purple-pink light of her room reflecting in her eyes like distant galaxies waking up, and began to read the few unlocked passages with the smug confidence of someone who already knew she was unstoppable.
What she do now?
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June 13
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