Cannibalism, the abject, and queering the narrative in Delicious in Dungeon

Content warning: body horror

Spoilers for Vol 1 – 14 of the Delicious in Dungeon manga and Season 1 of the anime

Eat or be eaten: this is the mantra that propels the heroes of Delicious in Dungeon through their adventures into the depths of the titular dungeon, dining on monsters in their quest to save their party member, Falin, from being digested by the mad sorcerer’s red dragon. Food and eating are unmistakably a crucial part of the manga and its anime adaptation. While I could ramble for aeons about the various dishes used through this series, the meals in this essay will explore a different set of ingredients—the characters themselves, and the way eating and consumption are tied into ideas of identity and intimacy.

Julia Kristeva’s theories of abjection will be used to further explore how direct interaction with the taboo, or that which is instinctually “horrific” can be a means of pushing the self into internal confrontation, or for characters to confront one another. In Powers of Horror, Kristeva defines the abject as “what disturbs identity, system, order” and fails to “respect borders, positions, rules.” The abject is linked to our confrontation with death and bodily breakdown, evoking both horror and fascination as it “draws [one] toward the place where meaning collapses”. In Delicious in Dungeon, Kui Ryoko reflects this concept as characters blur the line between human and monster, challenging the boundaries between life, death, and humanity, thus engaging with the abject in a literal and visceral sense.

The plot of Delicious in Dungeon is not inherently abject; though aspects of horror such as cannibalism, necromancy, and even death are used through the series, they often platform comedic and comforting developments for the characters. How is it therefore that Kui is able to utilize that which is perhaps repulsive to both characters and readers alike to instead convey ideas of growth and love?

An abject adventuring party

The characters of Delicious in Dungeon embody ideas of the abject through their interactions with the dungeon and its monsters. It may be argued that the dungeon itself serves as a representation of the abject by acting as a liminal space where the boundaries of life, death, humanity, and monstrosity collapse, forcing characters to directly confront the taboo within themselves and their environment. According to Kristeva, the abject evokes horror by revealing the fragility of societal structures and perceptions of the self; the dungeon exemplifies this as it is both a place of opportunity and destruction, where the traditional binaries of “order”—human versus monster, alive versus dead—are destabilized. Moreover, the dungeon challenges the main party’s sense of humanity; by consuming monsters and incorporating their essence into their own survival, they metaphorically and literally confront their own “monstrous” potential, crossing the border between self and the Other. The dungeon forces this confrontation by placing them in situations where their moral frameworks and personal boundaries are tested, whether that’s through early comedic scenes of Marcille’s revolted refusal to eat monsters, or later, more emotionally heavy moments such as the flashbacks to the self-destruction and loss of Senshi’s dwarven party. Thus the dungeon acts as a physical manifestation of the abject, confronting characters and readers with the visceral collapse of boundaries and inviting them to question the stability of identity and humanity.

Not only can the main party’s descent into the depths of the dungeon be symbolic of this exploration into the taboo, the characters too grow more entangled with the abject as the reader is exposed to more of their backstories and inner workings. Though seemingly ordinary at first, perhaps even perfectly mirroring an archetypal Dungeons and Dragons-esque adventuring party, Kui gradually teases the ways in which each character is “abnormal” and potentially even monstrous within their contemporary world. As the central protagonist, Laios lays the basis for the main cast’s own relationship with the abject throughout the series. While initially established as a means of survival, Laios’ fascination with the consumption of monsters reforms this action into an active breaking of taboos. His “love” of monsters is not merely an intellectual curiosity but a challenge to the rigid societal rules that view them as inherently evil or lesser beings. Ill at ease with social mores in human society, Laios is freed to show his expertise and passionate knowledge of monsters in the dungeon setting. Rather than eating out of necessity, the physical ingestion of their monstrous ingredients may be said to become a metaphorical incorporation with that which is abject—Laios confronts ideas of humanity and the self by interacting with the abject so enthusiastically, symbolically challenging perceptions of the self and what it means to be human. Himself abjected by the world above, he is free to embrace joy in what many consider a frightening space. 

Marcille’s relationship with the abject emerges not from a fascination like Laios’, but from a deep-seated fear and moral rigidity. At first glance, Marcille embodies the archetype of a noble, rational high elf mage, challenging the party’s taboo behaviours and habits, even at the cost of going hungry by refusing “weird” meals. Kui very quickly subverts this—Marcille’s apparent rigid morality bends in the face of her desire to save someone she loves, whether that be through un-ladylike, explosive spells, or defying death itself with ancient magic when Falin returns in more than one piece. This is, however, a facade altogether, as Marcille was already engaged in studying the benefits of taboo magic before the story begins, a pursuit she is free to put to use in the liminal world of the dungeon. Her very existence is itself abject, caught between two worlds as a half-tallman-half-elf, creating a very literal isolation through her incredibly long lifespan. The dungeon forces Marcille to confront her own liminality and embrace the mutability of the supposedly immutable borders and binaries of the world above.

As a living ecosystem, the dungeon’s cycle of consumption and decay mirrors the abject’s association with bodily breakdown and death as described by Kristeva, and Senshi perhaps understands this more closely than any of the other characters. Senshi’s liminal existence as a member of this system—a person who lives in the dungeon, rather than simply visiting it from above—alienates him from general society. Chilchuck too initially holds an ambiguous identity, consistently on the periphery of those close to him and, it turns out, similarly alienated from the normative structures of the world aboveground by him breaking (the fantasy equivalent of) the nuclear family structure. Rounding out the adventuring party after her introduction in Volume 7, Izutsumi’s chimeral identity exists as a physical manifestation of an abnormal identity, paired with her dual nature and changeable personality. The main cast all cross, blur, or sit outside of social norms in some way, engaging in some taboo or another—heroes on the margins who are uniquely placed to engage with the abject horrors of the dungeon and transform them into something else through their unique, outsider perspectives.

Confronting a dragon

The central plot drive of Delicious in Dungeon is rescuing Falin, first from the belly of the red dragon, and later from her transformation into a chimaera who serves the series’ villain. Falin is introduced initially as an object of desire; in the quest to rescue a trapped party member, as a beloved friend, and as an object of romantic interest for characters such as Shuro. Yet in the face of abjection, this desire becomes transformed. Her consumption by the “Other,” the red dragon, instigates a break within Laios’ party. Marcille crosses the delicate boundaries between life and death by resurrecting Falin, using dark magic that is explicitly marked as horrifying—abject—within the story’s world. When Falin is transformed by the mad sorcerer, Laois’ party is still determined to save her, though other humans greatly protest against her rescue when her new form is made known to them; even Shuro, who claims to have loved Falin, expresses explicit distaste with their mission. In becoming entangled with the abject, Falin herself becomes abject, and in turn what Kristeva would call “repellent and repelled.” This however does not deter Laois and his party, who, with renewed determination, find a new solution to save Falin—consuming her. 

Initially, Delicious in Dungeon proposes eating as a mechanism for survival and bonding. Readers are given a break from intense lore explorations and conflicts through the  slice-of-life-style interludes where the party cooks and bonds over shared meals. Each meal showcases a new side to a character: Marcille and Senshi bond through the use of kelpie meat, Izutsumi learns trust through mushroom risotto, and even the notoriously guarded Chilchuck opens up in pursuit of a bicorn. Throughout this, readers are introduced to the idea of the dungeon as an ecosystem that consumes and repurposes everything within it, with Senshi emphasizing that travellers must only take what is needed. Eating is a means of sustaining the self rather than for pleasure. Likewise, the food gathered must adhere to a sense of recognition and morality and the party must avoid slaying and eating humanoid creatures. Laois questions this largely unspoken boundary, for example when he points out that fishmen are more fish than man in terms of biological makeup and intelligence. Chilchuck tries (with limited success) to explain the deep-seated moral impulse (“It just… feels nasty!”) not to eat something human shaped. In this exchange, facilitated by Laois’ unique and taboo perspective, Kui lightly foreshadows the moral quandary of the permeable border between monster and human, “us” and “Other.” 

The quest to eat chimaera Falin juxtaposes all of what we have been introduced to so far—along with Falin’s nature as a sweet, softer character now being that of a rampaging beast, saving a party member now involves destroying her in the process. Consumption here becomes a means of indulgence and desire, rather than necessity, and the lines between food and friend, monster and mortal, become blurred entirely. 

Kui’s use of cannibalism is unconventional in that consumption has become an act of giving Falin back her agency over her body rather than taking it away. To consume another becomes an act of love and community, subverting traditional power dynamics and expectations in overall fiction but also within the ecological laws of the dungeon. In this sense, it may be said that cannibalism becomes a metaphor for an emotional consumption; in order to separate the self (Falin) from the Other (the red dragon), a direct, uncomfortable, and visceral engagement with the abject must be undertaken. Through this act, the narrative reframes Falin’s abjection not as an endpoint, but as a conduit for intimacy and restoration. Instead of benefiting the consumer, consumption becomes empowering to the consumed. 

The party’s ultimate decision to eat Falin encapsulates this idea of transgressing societal boundaries—it is Senshi, after all, who is the first to propose cannibalism after soothing his deep fear of it from his past. Each party member, marked by their “monstrous” traits, finds solidarity in their shared otherness. This collective marginalization fosters a bond that empowers them to defy societal norms and embrace actions deemed unthinkable by conventional standards. If they are already taboo, why not embrace the abject entirely? 

Kristeva defines the abject as that which is “repulsive, and yet nurtured,” embodying both rejection and development of—perhaps even enjoyment of—the taboo. The party’s encounter with the abject reshapes their relationship to it; having confronted these transgressive elements before, each of them develops a unique resilience, enabling them to face such challenges again with resilience. This familiarity with that which may at first be horrific unlocks solutions that elude others bound by societal conventions. Kui shows a more hopeful side to “confronting the abject”—in successfully doing so, individuals are able to emerge stronger.

Queer themes and body horror

Fantasy provides a platform for playing with (and making literal) metaphors about identity and intimacy. Cannibalism in fiction can be a means by which one can reflect on the nature of desire, closeness, and the self. It can be seen to represent both the intimacy and necessity inherent to love, as well as the loss of self and “consuming” tendencies it holds. The focus on cannibalism as the main form of abjection may not only be built from the culinary focused plot, but provide a deeper exploration of real-world struggles and bids for connection. 

Marcille’s relationship with the abject is intertwined with her relationship with Falin. It comes to a head when the party reunites with Falin—or rather what is left of her. Falin’s resurrection serves as the thematic and emotional crux of Delicious in Dungeon, marking a profound turning point in both the characters’ and readers’ relationships with the abject. This pivotal act not only transforms their personal arcs but also establishes the narrative’s broader exploration of morality, identity, and survival. Her resurrection signifies the ultimate breach of moral and natural laws. Marcille’s use of necromantic magic to restore Falin’s life—an illegal breach of both law and societal expectations—is not so much an action Marcille feels forced into as much as something she can justify under the same morals that forbid her from eating “humanoid” monsters. In the face of abjection, Marcille willingly engages with death and monstrosity to save someone she loves. By bringing Falin back in a state that is neither fully human nor entirely monstrous, Marcille symbolically collapses the boundaries she once upheld, reshaping her understanding of morality and selfhood. 

The interactions between Marcille and Falin are graphic—the revival is the first instance of true abjection readers are exposed to in the series, the first hint of the darker world that exists within the canon universe. This fixation on saving Falin is not one of the desires easily consumed, but rather the one used to later propel her into the Winged Lion’s palm (paws?), where she too perhaps became part monster through their shared deal. Kui shows an overwhelmingly strong expression of emotion through Marcille, to the point she not only engages with the abject alongside the party in eating Falin, but as an individual, she is prepared and willingly becomes, herself, abject. 

Beyond this connection between the characters, it is also easy to draw a connection between the abject in fiction and within real world contexts. While the relationship between Marcille and Falin is not canonically romantic, reading their dynamic through a queer lens opens up dialogue about the themes of otherness, the taboo, and potentially “monstrous” desires that would be repressed outside the context of this fantasy element. Where the “abject” in Marcille and Falin’s relationship (romantic or otherwise) is rooted in the fantastical elements of monsters and magic, it can be interpreted as a reflection of the real-world abjection faced by queer communities in contemporary society. Marcille’s devotion to Falin and her willingness to defy moral and natural boundaries highlights the lengths to which one might go to in the pursuit of a forbidden or marginalized love. This dynamic, when viewed through the lens of the abject, speaks to the rejection and othering that queer individuals often face in heteronormative societies.

In communities where love and intimacy is often seen as abnormal, Kui provides validation for suffering through visually exemplifying these traits, providing a fantastical yet more tangible representation of the difficulties often faced by queer individuals. The in-universe “otherness” of Dungeon’s main cast opens the possibility for resonance with a variety of marginalized readers, making it part of a grand literary tradition of fantasy and horror that are ripe for queer readings and welcoming to the real world’s so-called outsiders.

Conclusion

Kristeva describes literature as a “means of purifying the abject”—fantasy becomes a didactic tool used to rationalize these often disturbing confrontations in ways that are palatable, and at least in the case of Delicious in Dungeon, even comforting. Kui portrays the abject not as an obstacle, but as a source of empowerment, showcasing a world where survival and love defy the limits of traditional morality. Her use of fantastical characters, concepts, and plotlines allow for an in-depth exploration of the abject, and a tangible representation of the other, thus readers can engage with these concepts directly and safely. 

Kui brings readers on an adventure in confronting the abject when it invades that which we love. Falin is not “consumed” in the traditional sense, but rather “consumed” by love; cannibalism becomes mimicry for closeness, consumption that of a metaphorical wholeness. In Delicious in Dungeon, confronting the abject is a union between self and Other, transforming one’s perception of the real and coming out stronger, and perhaps even closer to those we love.