by Neven Iliev
However, going down that route would interfere with the three goals Fizzy wanted to accomplish. First of all, she wanted to resume mastering her Artificer Job. That would require resources and materials that were immensely difficult to obtain in the wild. Second, she wanted to advance her Paladin Job in order to faithfully carry out her duties as Champion of Chaos. Churchill had proven himself as her saviour and benefactor, so it was the least that she could do in return. And last, but certainly not least, was her Pledge of Arms to Boxxy. If the Mimic was planning to infiltrate a human city, then it was her oath-bound duty to be right there with it, providing support as best she could.
She had even come up with two separate plans to deter any nosy guards that might question her appearance. The first was to simply tell them a modified version of the truth – that she was a gnome Paladin who had been transformed into a golem by a powerful curse and was currently looking for a way to change back. Such fantastical stories weren’t exactly unheard of in a world where magic ran rampant, so she was almost certain that it would work. If not, then she could just pretend to be the Mimic’s loyal servant golem, which was more or less the case, anyway.
However, none of her plans were likely to succeed if she ran around naked like a feral creature. One had to wear clothes if they wished to manoeuvre in civilised society, which meant that she would have to find a way to contain her stripping impulses. She was confident that she could do it, now that she had realised their source. It was simply a matter of forming the right habits, and forming habits was something that she was very good at.
Therefore, the question wasn’t whether she could avoid stripping, but whether she should.
“Could always try and ask the boss, you know,” suggested Kora, noticing Fizzy’s hesitation. “It’s pretty clever, even if it is just a box with teeth.”
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right? Alright then. Any idea when Boxxy will be back?”
“Hold on, I’ll ask.”
The fiend stared into the distance and sent a telepathic communication to her master.
“Hey boss, are you two, uh, still busy?”
“Yes,” came the immediate answer.
“How long will you be? The little one wants to ask you something.”
“Fizzy?”
“Yeah, her.”
Boxxy quickly checked its status. It had three quarters of the XP needed to reach Level 50 of its Mimic Job, and its Shapeshift Skill Proficiency was two-thirds of the way to Level 10. The former was relatively easy since it just involved killing things, but the latter was proving more difficult, even with all the practise. Still, it had been experimenting with new techniques for three hours straight, so it decided that now was a good opportunity to take a break. It probably shouldn’t overdo things and potentially collapse from exhaustion, even if the Rank Up was so close that it could practically taste it.
“Okay. Bring her here.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
The Mimic released Xera from its tentacles and waited patiently for the two to arrive. The succubus was a little out of it at the moment, though. Having received Boxxy’s undivided attention for so long had left her as little more than a soggy, unthinking sow drowning in pleasure. Especially since the Mimic had taken to trying out various bondage and torture methods that had sent her into what could only be described as sheer carnal bliss.
Boxxy had considered using Valeria as an additional practise partner but had ultimately decided against it. It just couldn’t get over how utterly foul she tasted, whereas Snack was as deliciously sweet as ever. It could, of course, form appendages devoid of taste buds, but it saw no reason to pass up Xera’s succulent flavour, not when the option was available.
That was why it had sent the lich off to make herself useful by raising her Level. Valeria had claimed to be better at fighting beings of flesh and blood rather than golems, so the Mimic was allowing her to do her own thing outside the dungeon.
It did mean that the lich was nowhere in sight, but Boxxy felt confident that it could handle any scheme she might come up with. The domineering chest was in possession of her phylactery, after all, meaning that any signs of rebellion would be met with her instant destruction. It saw no issue with letting her roam unsupervised for a bit so long as she continued to diligently raise her Levels.
As for the reason it was forcing her to do that, it was because, unlike Fizzy, Valeria’s only value lay in her ability to fight. If she started slacking and fell behind Boxxy in terms of power, then she would naturally have to be disciplined appropriately. There was no point in keeping a servant who refused to fulfill their purpose. Boxxy was therefore quite pleased with the golem’s rapid development. Her new habit of rushing head-first into battle with that charging Skill of hers would probably need to be corrected at some point, though.
The Mimic quietly contemplated how to best put its minions to work until Arms and Fizzy found its resting spot about ten minutes later. Navigating the area was a lot simpler now that the maze’s auto-repair function was no longer working. The golem and the fiend simply had to follow the trail of freshly-burned hedges until they found Boxxy and its pyromaniac familiar.
“Hey, boss, we’re here!” Kora greeted it.
She glanced over to Xera, who was still wallowing on the ground and looking indecently blissed-out, her body still spasming lightly from the aftershocks of Boxxy rocking her world.
“Can I get sloppy seconds?” she asked hopefully.
“Not now.” Boxxy turned its attention towards the pint-sized Paladin. “What is it, Fizzy?”
The golem tore her curious gaze away from the insensate succubus and explained her conundrum. How she wasn’t sure whether she should accept her monstrous side or cling to the remnants of her dignity as a person. Her concerns, however, were a bit too complicated for the simple-minded Mimic to comprehend. Or rather, it failed to see why there was any dilemma in the first place.
“You need to wear clothes when talking to people, right?” it asked, just to confirm.
“Yeah,” answered Fizzy.
“But you think that not wearing them is tastier.”
“Uhm. That is one way of putting it, yes.”
Boxxy certainly had to agree with her on that point. Clothes were bothersome things that got in the way of its shapeshifting, so it disliked the idea of them on principle. And yet, it still couldn’t see why this was even a question.
“So why not do both?”
“… Huh?”
“Wear clothes when you’re around people. Don’t wear them when you’re not.”
“But… there’s no point if I’m not seen…”
Her impulse wasn’t just to be naked, it was to show off her naked body. Which demanded the attention of others. Many others.
“I’m here, and I can see you,” the Mimic pointed out.
“Well, yes, but I don’t think that’ll be enough. Something tells me I won’t be satisfied unless… Wait… Hold on a minute!”
A thought had just occurred to Fizzy.
Mimics were creatures that, barring some skilful shapeshifting, typically lacked eyes or ears of their own. Instead, they relied on a sort of magical sonar which allowed them to perceive the sounds, shapes and colours around them. Although the ability had limited range and could be fooled under certain circumstances, it was nonetheless extremely accurate and was capable of ‘seeing’ through most surfaces. That was at least partly why Boxxy was so skilled at being an Artificer. In fact, its steadily growing PER Attribute boosted the accuracy of its magical perception field even further, allowing it to perceive the otherwise-invisible fluctuations of mana in the air.
Fizzy had learned all of this over the course of the past month. How could she not, after spending so much time with the creature? The details had somehow slipped her mind in all the excitement of being reborn, but now she suddenly remembered.
“You- you can see inside me, can’t you?” she asked in a strangely shaky voice.
“Yes. Actually, it looks different from yesterday. Especially in the shoulders, knees and elbows. Did something happen?”
“Y-yeah. I got a new Skill that upgraded them.”
“I see.”
“How- How much of my body can you see?”
“All of it.”
“Even my c-c-c-core?”
“Yes.”
A complicated emotion took hold of Fizzy. The Mimic before her was able to perceive her steel frame in its entirety in a way that went well beyond simple nakedness. Every fibre of her being right down to her innermost depths had been laid bare before it, and yet she didn’t feel repulsed, disgusted or creeped out. In fact, she was filled with an odd sense of confidence and joy.
“What do you think of it?” she asked, almost giddy with happiness. “My core, I mean?”
“Complicated. Round. Sturdy. Shiny.”
Those simple words sent a wave of euphoria washing over the ex-gnome, making her entire body shudder with delight. The deepest, most precious part of her had been seen and praised by someone who was truly able to appreciate its glory. She knew right away that this was a sensation that no faceless masses could ever offer her. To even think that a bunch of common plebeians were capable of truly comprehending the work of art that she had become was almost an insult.
No, the only gaze that mattered was that of Boxxy T. Morningwood.
Part Three
[Level up!]
[Congratulations, you are now a Level 50 Mimic! All Attributes +2.]
“YeSHAAAA!”
Boxxy cheered as the final statue crumbled within its spike-covered tentacles. It had at last reached its maximum Mimic Job Level at the end of the fourth day of stalking the crippled dungeon’s hedge maze. All that was left now was to raise Shapeshift to Level 10 and the Mimic would finally, at long last, be able to Rank Up.
“Congratulations, Master!”
“Yeah, way to go, boss!”
“Ahh, my darling is splendid as usual!”
“Nice one, Boxxy!”
The creature’s unlikely entourage, having been ordered to follow it once the Mimic had reached ninety percent XP, all congratulated it in their own way.
Valeria’s newly-created undead regiment was also skulking around the place. She had gone for a mix of Death Knights, Dullahans and a whole lot of Skeletal Archers, a configuration well suited to hunting wild beasts in the woods. Boxxy had also discovered, much to its disappointment, that the lich-created undead yielded no XP when slain. Which made sense, as they were beings made up of more mana than flesh, not dissimilar to the Mimic’s own familiars.
“What happens now?” Fizzy asked.
“Shapeshifting practice.”
Valeria and Xera’s faces lit up like dogs offered a treat, though the golem and the fiend had no interest in taking part.
“In that case,” Fizzy said, “I’m going to go and raise my Level a bit.”
Unlike Kora, who was only opposed because she didn’t get to be ‘on top,’ the Paladin was not even remotely interested in such things. While there was the matter of her traumatic experience, it was also that her steel body simply had no sex drive to speak of, similar to a certain animate chest. Even the pleasure she got from being ‘seen’ couldn’t be considered sexual. It was more akin to the feeling of satisfaction and giddiness one would experience after eating a sumptuous meal followed by a few glasses of wine. Therefore, she saw no reason to stick around.
Unfortunately, Boxxy had other plans.
“Fizzy, I need you for this one.”
The golem froze. Whatever thoughts she may have had were forgotten, replaced by a single troubling idea.
It couldn’t seriously mean that, right?
“W-why do you need m-me?” she asked stiffly.
Boxxy explained its problem. Simply put, it needed to keep trying out new things if it wanted to increase its Shapeshift Skill Level, which was only reason that it had engaged in the lewd ‘activities’ in the first place. The sheer amount of biomass, complexity and movement involved had provided it with lots of proficiency, resulting in a tasty net total of fifty-six percent progress towards Level 10.
But it would appear that that method had reached its limit, as the Mimic’s last few training sessions had been extremely disappointing. It had gained merely a single percent Proficiency after a whole two hours of practise. It seemed that there was little more that it could learn there, so what it needed right now was a brand-new direction towards which it could focus its shapeshifting. Unfortunately, it was somewhat lacking in imagination, which was why it had decided to ask its minions.
The golem and the fiend both breathed sighs of relief upon realising that they wouldn’t be roped into anything unpleasant again. The Slobbering Slut Squad, as Kora had taken to calling the other two, was understandably disappointed. Not only because there would be no happy fun times with Boxxy right now, but also because the implication was that there would be no happy fun times with Boxxy ever again.
“You can turn parts of your body into metal, right? Have you tried producing Artificer-made goods from it?” was Fizzy’s initial suggestion.
The Mimic responded by instantaneously covering its faux-wood shell in dozens of Bladeblossoms, demonstrating that it had not only tried, but mastered the skill. Fizzy was quite impressed with the sheer speed with which it could produce them, not to mention the number, but ultimately the things would be of little use in combat. The petal-shaped blades would return to soft flesh the instant that they were separated from the main body, meaning that setting them off would merely cover the area in strips of shapeless flesh-goo. Something that nobody present particularly wanted to see.
“What about imitating someone who isn’t that dimwitted succubus?” asked Valeria. “Or, more specifically, me!”
Boxxy’s lid flew open and a pure white replica of the lich’s upper body sprang out.
“Humanoids are all the same,” it commented. “There’s nothing more I can learn there.”
“What about skin colour, Master?” Xera chimed in.
“What about it?”
“Pigmentation is important for infiltrating a city. We talked about this before, remember.”
“Oh, right.”
It had nearly forgotten that particular lesson in blending in. Truthfully speaking, it mainly continued to create the chalk-white skin simply because colouring it was a tricky, annoyingly lengthy process. It wasn’t that the Mimic was lazy, it just found it unnecessary to put so much effort into something that it personally considered to be of trivial importance. It hadn’t even bothered with colouring the skin of its hybrid form back in Erosa because its height was already much too conspicuous anyway. But, as Xera had pointed out, getting the colouration of the skin, eyes and hair right was extremely important to inconspicuously blending in with civilised society.
The only time Boxxy had even attempted to fully colour itself in was when it had had to pretend to be Fizzy, and it had messed that up badly. Its skin had been slightly too tanned, the eyes an unnatural yellow and the hair had been closer to purple than pink. The only reason that it had managed to fool the one human that had seen it was because he’d been a random passerby with no idea of what the gnome had actually looked like.
So, Boxxy decided to give altering its pigmentation another try. Splotches of beige appeared on the imitation-Valeria’s body, expanding through the white skin like globs of ink spreading across paper. The twin-tail hairdo gradually turned black, looking much like Valeria’s original, human appearance.
“How’s this?” it asked once it was done.
“It could… use some work, Master.”
That was an understatement. Objectively speaking, Boxxy’s attempt at skin pigmentation had failed horribly. There were various differently-coloured patches of flesh, giving it the freakish appearance of skin sewn together from multiple corpses. Even the hair was noticeably darker on one side.
“Okay, I’ll practise this part later,” Boxxy decide
d.
Shapeshifting proficiency aside, it did need to master this if it wanted to be able to move freely within a city. It was quite pleased with Snack’s input, though. She really knew her stuff when it came to infiltration. As expected of a conniving, backstabbing and malicious demon.
As for Valeria, she was at a loss for words. Allowing Boxxy to use her physical appearance had been nowhere near the vaguely-romantic gesture she’d had in mind when she’d suggested it. In fact, she was understandably disturbed, but it was only natural that seeing a parody of her old human form would strike a nerve. Xera had been in the same boat back when Boxxy had first begun using her image to cast Spells, but she had since grown more or less accustomed to it.
“Oh! I know!” Kora shouted. “How about combining things?”
“Combining things?”
“You know, like a whatchamacallit! A chimichanga?”
“… Do you mean a chimera?” Xera corrected her.
“Yeah, that!”
“What’s that?” asked Boxxy.
“It’s a monster created by mortal Alchemists, Master,” the succubus explained, “usually by combining the traits of several existing creatures into one. For example, a beast with the head and forelegs of a janther, the body and hindlegs of a goat and a snake for a tail.”
“So, it can be other things?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Is it a shapeshifter?”
“Not exactly,” Xera pursed her lips. “It’s just that elves and humans like to do weird experiments and sometimes wind up producing different combinations. I think those griffins the Empire uses might be a type of chimera. I mean, they certainly weren’t around a few hundred years ago and new monster species don’t just pop out of the blue like that.”
