by Neven Iliev
“Wait, you didn’t make your open-air dungeon a no-fly zone?” Lunar asked after a few minutes. “What was the purpose of that maze if you were going to allow that sort of thing?”
“… Okay, I admit, I should have taken flying invaders into account,” Goroth conceded. “What’s with that lich though? Where did she even come from? And why does she keep calling the chest with legs ‘darling?’”
“Ah, long story,” Joey waved his sunflower. “Let’s just say the two have a history and she’s not exactly right in the head.”
“Good thing Morty isn’t here to see this,” Lunar chimed in. “He’d flip his lid if he saw that thing.”
“You seem okay with it, though,” Jeffrey pointed out.
“Intelligent undead have contributed to the study of magic in their own way, you know.”
“Hoh-ho! I see! I guess you can get a lot of work done when you’re able to study day and night without food or sleep, huh?”
Indeed, many of the mortals who turned to lichdom did so with the intent to continue studying and mastering the arcane arts without fear of old age. And as Lunar had stated, quite a few had contributed to the development of magic as a result. Unfortunately, whether they were noble or selfish in origin, such pursuits did not stand the test of time. As the years and decades went by, liches would inevitably succumb to the spiteful, power-hungry nature of their undead species. Their conjured bodies would reflect this change in mentality, with each reincarnation looking less like a person and more like a skeleton held together by cloth and chains.
Valeria as well would have eventually turned into such a ghastly construct had her un-life not been ended so abruptly.
“Anyway, this part is a bit repetitive, so let me just skip ahead to the first boss fight.”
Linda snapped her trees once more and the images on the screen changed to display Boxxy’s troupe taking down the trio of gargoyles with relative ease.
“Wow, okay,” Goroth admitted. “That was impressive. The monster’s shapeshifting was accurate and quick. Good dose of creativity, too.”
The Earth God appreciated art in all forms. To him, sculpting one’s own flesh was no different to carving an image from wood or stone. The Mimic’s smooth transition from weaponising its tentacles to sprouting wings to glide through the air had had a certain kind of beauty to it. Although Goroth was far from Boxxy’s biggest fan, he couldn’t deny that its shapeshifting expertise was likely the result of intense practise and effort.
“Geh, that child used curse magic, didn’t she?” Lunar said sourly. “How many times do I have to tell people!? That sort of thing just gives birth to even more monsters!”
“But… they’re in a dungeon. There’d be monsters there anyway,” Sam pointed out.
“That’s not the point! If she’s using it in the dungeon, then she’ll use it outside of it, too!”
“Yeah, okay. You don’t need to worry about that, though. That lich is super dead now. Like, dead-dead.”
“Come on, Twitchy! Spoilers!”
“Oh… oops.”
“Well, whatever. At least I won’t need to send my hex-hunters after her.”
Hex-hunters were an order of Paladins in service to Lunar, whose Champion of Magic Skill gave them a frankly-unfair advantage when tracking and confronting wielders of cursed items or Hexcraft magic. Lunar tended to get so up in arms about it because curse magic was – in a way – anathema to holy magic. Something so vile that she deemed its use worthy of the same disdain as necromancy.
“Looney. Not cool.”
“I know, I know. Sorry about that.”
“What’s that… thing doing?” Goroth asked, disbelievingly.
The other two turned back to the screen. It was currently relaying the scene of the Mimic slobbering all over the solid-gold treasure chest.
“Kya! How lewd!”
“Don’t go ‘kya’ like that, you old hag! It’s not cute at all!” Augustus grumbled.
“No, but for real. What’s it doing?”
“It’s just appreciating the workmanship on the chest, it’s a mimic thing,” Kevin explained. “Come to think of it, what’s with the pointlessly-decorative item containers? I can understand the golden ones, but even the stone ones?”
“Well. Just because they only appear for a short time doesn’t mean that they can’t be superbly crafted.”
Kevin rolled his bacon. Of course this artsy-fartsy blockhead would do something unnecessary like that. But the sight had made the him laugh like a maniac for a good twenty minutes the first time he had seen it, so he withheld from chastising the Earth God. The vaguely-disturbing image soon moved on to the climbing of the Black Stairs and subsequent destruction of the entire swarm of crystalline insects with a single Sonic Scream.
Josefina elected to fast-forward through the boring bits up to the confrontation with the Jade King, which was ended in nearly an instant thanks to Boxxy unleashing all its mass-produced Spell Crystals on the golem at once. Goroth had fallen oddly silent by this point, watching absentmindedly as the dungeon core was violently dislodged, kicked unceremoniously down the steps and carried outside the dungeon’s sphere of influence. At that point, the recording cut off.
“Well,” Amanda spoke up. “Did you see any illusions or indications of tampering, Looney?”
“Nope,” the Goddess of Magic and Learning replied. “Seems legit to me.”
“Satisfied, Goroth?”
“… Yes. I apologize for raising such a fuss earlier.”
The Goddess of Chaos stared dubiously at the pile of rocks next to her.
“You’re usually more headstrong than this. What gives?”
“I just… Did you know I spent a good three years fine-tuning that Jade King encounter until I had it just right? It was supposed to be an absolutely epic battle with five phases and various different subordinates joining the fight, giving their lives to support and restore their regent. And yet…”
“And yet a single monster blew it all away before the guy even got a chance to show off.”
“Yeah.”
For a being who valued hard work, having his own efforts so thoroughly wasted was a strangely humbling experience. The fact that his ‘finely-crafted’ encounter had been blasted to smithereens by a four-month-old mimic was perhaps the biggest blow.
“I understand what you meant now. That dungeon was pretty shit, wasn’t it?”
“Nah, I wouldn’t say that,” Lunar butted in. “It’s just that they had the proper tools to deal with it. Compatibility trumps raw power, that’s just how it is with dungeons, you know?”
“I suppose. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and review my other dungeon designs.”
The deity’s stone avatar stood from the couch, turning to face the God of Luck. Or at least, that’s what Thomas assumed, considering that the moving pile of rocks didn’t actually have a face.
“Goodbye, Victor. This has been… educational.”
Goroth flickered out of existence, presumably returning to his own Divine Area.
“… Those kids were a little too well prepared, weren’t they?” Lunar asked after a moment of silence. “The lich in particular seemed like she did most of the work.”
“Oh, not you too! I already said I had no hand in what happened to Blockhead’s dungeon!”
“Listen here, Twitchy, you might have been able to convince Goroth that it was all his fault, but please don’t try to pull that shit on me.”
The Goddess of Magic and Learning and the Goddess of Change had more in common than one might think. Though it wasn’t readily apparent at first, both deities placed a great deal of value on information. Admittedly, they used different methods and certainly had different goals, but the starting point was the same. That was why under normal circumstances they got along fairly well. Which was, in turn, why Lunar was so familiar with Darren’s personality.
“I know you far too well to believe that you didn’t orchestrate this entire thing just to k
nock Gorey down a peg,” the Moon Goddess stated confidently.
“Ahhh… found me out, did you?”
It was hardly a stretch. After all, Boxxy wouldn’t have been able to leave Goroth’s dungeon in ruins if it hadn’t managed to find it in the first place, and it couldn’t have done that if Valeria hadn’t been there to show it the way. And of course, the Mimic and the lich had only been reunited because of Lamar himself. Indeed, merely sending Boxxy and Fizzy on that Hero Quest had set off a chain of events that, factoring in all of the variables, had had a greater than ninety-nine percent probability of resulting in the Spire’s destruction.
Which, technically speaking, was still, as Thomas had told Goroth, a ‘non-zero chance.’
“Well… he has been getting awfully full of himself these past twenty years,” Amanda smirked. “A little humility will do him good.”
“Honestly, how are you still this rotten?” Lunar shook her head. “You shouldn’t toy with your fellow gods like that!”
“And where would be the fun in that? It’s far more entertaining to mess with these snot-nosed brats that think themselves superior just because they’re popular.”
“So you keep saying… Anyway, do send me a G-mail the next time that Hero of yours does something interesting, will you? I’ve become rather curious about it myself.”
“Sure. Just don’t get any funny ideas about making it the Hero of Magic. You know that won’t end well.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, I already have a capable youngster of my own. My interest is more curiosity as to what it’ll do next. And I honestly don’t see it inventing new Spells or anything like that.”
“Well, actually-”
“Twitchy! Spoilers!”
“Oops. Sorry, Looney.”
The goddess shook her head in fond exasperation.
“Whatever. I’ll be going now.”
“Sure thing. Thanks for dropping by.”
“Anytime, just please cut down on the pranks, alright? You’re the eldest of us, you really should act the part.”
With that, Lunar disappeared much like Goroth had, leaving Jason unobserved and allowing him to return to his true form. He sat back down on the couch, conjured another box of popcorn and resumed observing the doppelganger mimicking a mimic mimicking a chest. He was hoping for something exciting to liven his mood, as Lunar’s parting words had left him feeling slightly sour.
Did she not realise how thoroughly boring the world would be if the God of Chaos actually acted like he was the eldest? Did she expect him to suddenly start taking part in that prick-waving contest those upstarts were calling a power struggle? It was a thoroughly banal competition that was not only extremely dull, but also served absolutely no purpose in the grand scheme of things.
After all, when was the last time any of the other members of Terrania’s pantheon had done something as significant as creating the Beyond and filling it with demons? That’s right – never. It was an objective fact that, based on results, the God of Chaos was the hardest-working god in existence. Frankly speaking, the rest of his peers entirely misunderstood why it was he found their little game to be so utterly boring.
It was honestly simple: he’d mop the floor with them if he decided to really put his back into it. Teresa, Axel, Nyrie, Lunar – none of them would last more than a few decades if ‘Twitchy’ truly set out to make his religion the dominant one. In fact, he could probably cut that down to about eight or nine years if he wanted. He could kick their asses so hard that they’d literally cease to exist.
Just like the previous generation of gods.
Chapter Four
Death Comes in Many Shapes
Part One
The village of Carran was a remote settlement housing just under three hundred residents, although it would be a lie to call it a peaceful place. The village was located at the foot of the Sawblade Mountains, and as such often found itself under siege by packs of monsters overflowing from the treacherous peaks. Consequently, the people living there had erected high wooden walls around the village, as protecting themselves otherwise would simply have been impossible. Fortunately for them, they had more than just bare walls to rely on.
Common logic dictated that, wherever monsters cropped up, adventurers would soon appear. And wherever monster hunting professionals went, their guilds would surely follow. Even this isolated little hamlet wasn’t exempt from this unwritten law since as many as fifty adventurers from three separate guilds had made their homes here. The rest of the populace earned their livelihoods tending the fields just outside the walls or digging metals from the mine running underneath the village.
As a tiny settlement, they didn’t have guards, exactly, but instead relied on a local militia comprised of about two-thirds of its resident adventurers. These people had taken up the dangerous profession out of necessity, the desire to protect their friends and family trumping selfish pursuit of wealth or glory. The rest had fewer ties to the village and were simply drifting through or earning their livelihoods, but nevertheless they all contributed to the safety of the region in one way or another.
Even the outsiders would sometimes take night shifts watching the wall for no pay, thanks in part to Flanne, the local innkeeper’s daughter. She would often bring them a homemade breakfast first thing in the morning to reinvigorate their bodies, and her lovely smile was capable of melting even the coldest of hearts. Her kind demeanour, superb cooking and wholesome beauty had made her the most eligible bride in the village, despite her being a member of the village’s sole elven household. Even the local housewives looked favourably upon her. She was a central figure in the closely-knit community, a shining demonstration that humans and elves need not hate one another.
It was therefore a crying shame that, on this windy summer night, Flanne was about to pass away in her sleep of natural causes.
[Assassination Skill triggered. Your attack has dealt 500% more damage. Target HP -1,482.]
[You have slain your target in a single strike.]
Or at least, as natural as being stabbed through the heart could be. Statistically speaking, assassination by doppelganger was already the leading cause of death in the village, as the girl was Boxxy’s ninety-fourth victim of the night. The spider-chest withdrew its mithril dagger from her body, shaking the blood off and then moving methodically towards the next room to silently dispatch Flanne’s father, mother, younger brother and all seven of the inn’s guests.
Once everyone in the inn was dead, Boxxy made one more round in order to devour or absorb all of the corpses, then left the building and crept silently into the house next door. After murdering and ‘processing’ its residents, it moved on to the next dwelling, and then the next after that, each never taking more than a few minutes.
Fizzy and Kora had been instructed to stand by outside the village wall since they were ill-suited to sneaking around. One was a loudmouthed mountain of muscle and violence, the other a half-mad lump of steel. To say that subterfuge wasn’t exactly their strong point would be putting it mildly.
As for Xera, while she was adept at moving stealthily, she also lacked a means of silently executing her victims. She had therefore been relegated to scouting duty, keeping an eye on things from the sky to ensure that no nosey neighbours or night watch raised an alarm. While Boxxy was reasonably confident of its ability to take on the entire village, that didn’t mean that that was strictly necessary. Not when it could simply slaughter everyone in their sleep without suffering a single scratch.
Peaceful solutions really were for the best.
Besides, it was possible that one of the villagers or adventurers would escape in the confusion, which was something to be avoided at all costs. They would doubtless alert other settlements to Boxxy’s presence, the news of which would assuredly reach that terrifying Spymaster in no time flat. Granted, he was bound to eventually discover that Boxxy had been behind the massacre, but later was better than sooner.
When the sun finally rose,
Carran village had become a ghost town. Every last one of its residents had been added to the writhing flesh-abyss of Boxxy’s body. The monster had gorged itself upon nearly a hundred bodies before it had felt truly full for the first time since its Rank Up. Even then, it had kept eating. While its hunger had technically been sated, that didn’t actually mean that it had eaten its fill, as it appeared that a doppelganger demanded significantly more sustenance than a mimic. Either that, or Boxxy was still suffering from post-Rank Up hunger pains. Only time would tell.
It hadn’t eaten all of the corpses, though. The fifty or so adventurers living in Carran it had used as fodder for its Cadaver Absorption, resulting in Attribute gains of +37 AGI, +28 INT and +31 STR, as well as an extra two Levels’ worth of Sword Mastery Proficiency. Several of the tastier-looking bodies had been stowed into its Storage for later, and the rest were gobbled up without a single hair left behind. Overeating like that had made Boxxy feel somewhat bloated, but the gluttonous box had never been one for moderation. It could have used Cadaver Absorption on the bodies of the villagers as well, but had decided that raising its Biomass Skill Level was more important, as that would be necessary for its next Rank Up.
Besides, it was every child’s duty to eat heartily in order to grow up big and strong – even if said child happened to be a juvenile doppelganger.
And grow it certainly had. Although outwardly it had chosen the same appearance that it had had prior to its Rank Up, its body was easily four, maybe even five times heavier than it had been. The dense tissue could be expanded outwards to roughly the size of a horse with little to no difficulty, though doing so would make the shapeshifter a bigger target.
That was why it preferred to stick to the relatively-compact shape of a spider-legged chest. It could theoretically have taken the smaller form of a nine or ten-year-old child, but Boxxy just didn’t feel right outside of a chest-based shape. It would have to break the habit eventually if it wanted to integrate itself into society, but at the moment there was no particular rush.
