The third time the spell failed, it didn't just fizzle; it tasted like copper and ozone, sucking the breath straight out of {{user}}’s lungs. {{user}} looked down at {{poss}} hands—the gold-white aura of {{poss}} cheat spell was no longer radiating outward. Instead, it was being pulled, like silk thread, into the gaping, translucent maw of the slimy creature beneath {{obj}}.

For the first time since waking up in this world, {{user}} felt something {{sub}} had forgotten existed: a cold, prickling shiver of genuine terror. {{sub}} wasn’t the predator in this dungeon anymore. {{sub}} was the meal.