by Neven Iliev
First it tried pushing its body through the gaps in the grate, but they were too small. Although it could shapeshift, it was still a Lesser Mimic that couldn’t abandon its chest-like body shape. Only something like a Slime would be able to pass through these. Impossible things were impossible, so it gave up on that and decided to try brute force.
It spat out a sword from its Storage and gripped it with a red tentacle-like tongue. It swung its weapon repeatedly against the grate. The metal-on-metal impacts caused bell-like noises to reverberate through the cave while sparks pierced the darkness. But, as expected, the forged steel bars did not budge a single bit. If anything, it was the iron sword that was getting bent out of shape instead.
After a while, it gave up. Wasting stamina like this was counterproductive. Ideally it would just eat this obstacle, thus killing two goblins with one Fireball. But since it couldn’t even chew up the solid iron armor and weapons in its Storage, something like forged and enchanted steel was way out of its league. It tossed the slightly chipped blade into the air and swallowed it back up, sending it to-Swallowed?
The creature was suddenly struck by the first epiphany of its life. So far, it had opted to ‘swallow’ whenever it encountered something it couldn’t eat. The obstacle before it was something it couldn’t eat. Therefore, why not try to ‘swallow’ it instead?
[A special action has been performed. WIS +1.]
Now this was promising! The ‘special action’ that made its WIS Attribute rise was undoubtedly that of ‘getting a brilliant idea!’
Emboldened by this wild assumption, the Mimic backed off from the grate, turned around and opened its mouth. A swirling purple abyss appeared inside and started spewing out dozens of items, one after the other. It was about to swallow a circular mass of steel two meters in diameter, so it needed the extra room in its Storage. By the time it was done, the Mimic had created a pile of bloodstained metal almost as tall as it was. All that was left in its pocket dimension were three swords and a dagger.
It faced the grate again and tipped forward on its spider-like legs. Opening its maw, it put both its lower and upper sets of teeth against the steel rods as if trying to bite them. It mustered up part of the MP it had remaining and opened a Storage portal so that it overlapped with the metal bars. But try as it might, the swirling hole refused to grow larger than about forty centimeters.
“HUCK!” it cursed again while still clinging onto the infuriating metal rods. Being as dumb as it was, it failed to realize the obvious difference in size. Disappointed, it pulled itself away from the troublesome cage, causing the Storage portal to abruptly collapse.
And then a sharp pain permeated through the monster’s entire being. The Mimic hissed and screamed with a high-pitched howl as it thrashed about in agony. Every part of its rectangular faux-wood frame convulsed violently, as if it was trying to rip itself apart.
[Your Storage Skill has backfired due to improper use. Your body suffers from the feedback. HP -100.]
Magic was not a toy. Improper use of it could carry dire, sometimes lethal consequences. And something like ripping open a hole in reality was no exception. In fact, it was especially true for spatial manipulation magic invoked by the likes of the Storage Skill. What the Mimic had unintentionally done just now was equivalent to trying to shut a door with its metaphorical foot in the way. If this sort of thing happened with more powerful spatial magic, such as the Teleport or Gate spells, there would have been very little left of the poor thing.
It wasn’t like this moron actually understood the basic principles of magic, though. It had simply accepted the Storage portal opening inside its jaws as ‘a thing that happens when I want it to.’
“Heeh. Heeh. Heeh. Heeh,” it panted.
The Mimic had collapsed next to the pile of discarded weapons and armor, still reeling from that unbearable moment of pain. The monster then felt anger wash over it. Why did this stupid hard thing have to be in its way? In a fit of rage, it stretched out its tongue and wrapped the tip around a small round shield resting on the pile of pilfered armaments. It flung the disk-like object at the steel bars with full force as if they were somehow responsible for its misfortune.
The iron-reinforced wooden shield flew horizontally like a frisbee, crashing into the steel grating and falling to the ground, making an awful racket in the process. Then a part of said grating slowly fell backwards, making a small clanging sound as it also hit the stone floor.
The Mimic was speechless. Not that it could actually speak properly in the first place. The newly made hole was just over forty centimeters in diameter. The steel rods looked like someone had severed them with an extremely clean sword strike. In truth, the Storage portal did actually remove some of the forged steel grating. The gateway’s sudden collapse practically disintegrated a very small amount of matter around its edge, cutting through a portion of the metal rods. Since that one area of the blockade was technically no longer attached to the rest of it, it just needed a small jolt to tip over. Something that the Mimic’s rage-fueled shield throw inadvertently made possible.
[A special action has been performed. LCK +1.]
If the Mimic was aware of the concept of dumb luck, it might have been insulted at this message. Instead it was simply happy at the sudden, albeit completely inexplicable, Attribute gain. It picked itself up off the ground and turned itself sideways to squeeze through the gap. It then continued on its way with a spring in its step and a smile on whatever it had that passed for a face.
Part Six
The Mimic patiently awaited its prey. It sat there, unmoving. Although part of it wanted to ‘get up and go,’ in the end it followed its hunting instinct and stood still. The ground in this area of the dungeon was fairly flat, but it was far from being smooth. Of particular concern was one nasty bump that seemed to dig into the creature’s underside, causing it to remain slightly tilted to the side.
This was more than a little uncomfortable. Physically, there was no pain, but standing slightly lopsided felt wrong. Unnatural. The fact that a chest could even feel discomfort in the first place was already unnatural enough to begin with, so it really had no room to complain. It could reposition itself to be more comfortable, but it was unwilling. At least, not right now. It was a very bad idea to be doing something like that with those heavy footsteps steadily approaching it.
Five humans turned a corner and proceeded down the straight section of tunnel that the disguised monster was in. This particular stretch of cave was roomier than your average dungeon passage. It was eight meters wide and just over four meters tall. It had plenty of space to allow two big parties of adventurers to pass by each other without worry. However, these five were definitely different from the newbies that frequented this part of the dungeon. Their equipment clearly set them apart.
The one in front was a grizzled, middle-aged man. His torso was protected by a solid steel cuirass that glistened in the light from the lantern in his hand. His other hand was gripping a sturdy looking wooden spear with a steel tip. Iron plates protected his shins and forearms. A simple iron helmet encompassed his scalp, with chainmail hanging from its rim like a curtain, covering the sides and back of his head. It rattled obnoxiously with each step, but it was something this man had long gotten used to.
He was a guard, just like the four identically equipped people behind him. Although adventurers were common, they were still but a fraction of this world’s population. Not everyone wished to go off and die in some hellhole while chasing a misguided thirst for adventure, gold and glory. Many were content with simply accepting a weekly wage for mundane hard work, and living out relatively peaceful lives while protected by sturdy walls.
So why were these five peacekeepers in a dungeon where they clearly did not belong? Because they got word of strange noises coming from the direction of the sealed-off portion of the Green Zone. The mayor was a notorious cheapskate, so nobody in this armed detail was surprised he sent them rather than qualified adventurers to look
after the bloody thing. Granted, all of these men were between Level 10 and 12, so it’s not like something in here was a real threat to them. But they still had to waste valuable time on something that was clearly just greenhorns getting scared at things that go bump in the dark.
This was the third time this week they had to walk down this dank and musty cave just because some greenhorn raised a fuss. It would just be another giant rat that got stuck while trying to fit through the metal grate’s gaps. After all, nothing in there could break that enchanted steel with brute force. The artisans who made it assured the mayor it would need to be attacked by something that was at least Level 30. Anything weaker than a certain threshold wouldn’t even leave a scratch on it. Therefore, this entire patrol was a pointless endeavor the mayor ordered just so he could save face. The recent string of disappearances was more than enough to make people question his so-called leadership, so something like putting on a pointless show of force came naturally.
But still, these five got paid to follow orders, so they kept on marching.
The Mimic they were rapidly approaching was, simply put, scared shitless. The loose group of guards walking silently down the stone corridor gave off an extremely intimidating air. Running away was not an option - it would be immediately spotted and killed. Fighting was an even worse idea. Hiding had very little chance of success, but it was a chance nonetheless.
So it hid. It remained looking like a perfectly unassuming and completely ordinary wooden chest, in some vague hope that it would be overlooked. The armed patrol approached the monster, unaware of what it was. The man in front gave the out-of-place box a sidelong glance before moving on. The next pair of guards did the same. The fourth one had a different idea. He mercilessly thrust his spear into it. It pierced the faux-wood shell and drove deep into the monster.
[You have suffered a devastating blow. HP -53.]
[You died.]
It died instantly, without even getting a chance to scream in pain. Its killer withdrew his spear all at once, causing yellow blood to splatter all over the floor.
“Hey, come on man!” complained the man behind him. “Why’d you do that?! Now I have monster blood all over my trousers! My wife’s gonna kill me!”
“Again, Roger?” let out the man at the very front. He was peeking back at Roger over his shoulder. “You know full well killing that thing wasn’t worth the trouble, right?”
“Yeah, I know my Job won’t go up much from these Level 1s and 2s, but at least my Spear Mastery is growing steadily,” explained Roger.
He wasn’t wrong. While Jobs would progress very little if one picked on opponents much weaker than them, Skill Proficiency was another story. As long as one met certain conditions, their Skills would steadily climb in power. Granted, it took more and more work to attain the higher Levels, but Mastery Skills were easy to train. As long as one dealt damage to a living thing with the appropriate weapon or school of magic, the relevant Mastery Skill would go up. A difference in Levels didn’t matter in this scenario.
“Don’t fuck with me,” spat out the squad leader at the front. “I know full well you just like stomping on ants.”
“Ah, ya got me there, chief,” shrugged Roger. It was the truth. The excuse about his Spear Mastery was valid, but it was just that - an excuse. He was just a malicious prick and a natural bully.
His squad leader scowled at the insubordinate subordinate. “Whatever. Come on, let’s get this over with,” he ordered. There was a time and place for discipline and this was neither of them. They went on their way, forgetting about the dead Mimic.
The other Mimic that was following them, however, would not forget. They had just murdered its kin in cold blood. Cold, tasty, nourishing blood. The half-spider half-chest had been stalking them quietly for the last several minutes, looking for a chance to kill and eat them. At first it was wondering if it could take them, or whether it should just let them be. However, it couldn’t quite bring itself to turn around and seek easier prey. But that was then, this was now.
And right now it felt like it absolutely had to murder the shit out of them. Although it didn’t particularly know or care for its dead kin, was there any living being that can stand idle after watching its kind slaughtered? Probably, but this wasn’t one of them. The monster screwed up its determination and prepared to attack the patrol. Even if there were five of them, it was still a higher Level. If it could take out a few of them before the rest could respond, then it would surely be able to clinch victory.
It opened its mouth and spat out its long, thick tongue. This part of it was extremely dexterous and malleable - perfect for the Shapeshift Skill. The flat mass of flesh split into three separate tongues, connected at the base. It then accessed its Storage and took out three plain swords - one in each tongue-tentacle. It did not want to waste mana gobbling up all that worthless trash it left behind, so the only thing remaining in its pocket dimension was a curious dagger that was especially shiny.
Now armed, the Mimic activated its Stealth Skill and crept up on the patrol. It glided silently towards the still-bickering pair of guards at the very back. Engrossed in their conversation about who was going to be on armor-scrubbing duty, they failed to realize the threat approaching them. The casual pace of their walk did not help matters much, either, since it allowed their stalker to rapidly gain ground on them. Although the Stealth Skill drained its MP with every step, the monster still had more than enough to fulfill its purpose.
Having gotten about half a meter behind them, the Mimic reared up slightly on its imitation spider legs and raised two of its armed improvised tentacles into the air. Now that it was this close, it perceived a gap in their armor. A strip of sweat-stained underclothing was visible between the steel cuirass and the iron helmet, exposing the base of their necks and a bit of their shoulder. It angled the blades downwards and, after a momentary pause, thrust them accurately and smoothly into that opening.
The twin blades dug into both guards’ collarbones from above with very little resistance.
[Assassination Skill triggered. Your attack has dealt 200% more damage. Target HP -107.]
[You have slain your target in a single strike. Assassination Proficiency increased.]
[Assassination Skill triggered. Your attack has dealt 200% more damage. Target HP -82.]
[You have dealt a devastating blow. Target stunned for 5 seconds.]
Ignoring the familiar messages and even more familiar screams of pain, the Mimic pulled on the two swords still lodged inside its victims. Continuing the downward stabbing motion, it used the power and momentum of that thrust to throw them both to the ground.
The rest of the squad turned around immediately when they noticed their comrades yell out in pain. The first thing they saw was two armored guards being thrown viciously against the stone ground. Their metal-clad backs made audible thuds as they smashed into the stone floor. In the next instant, a sword fell on the one on the right - likely Roger - stabbing him clean through the throat. The three men in front stared in mute horror as a trio of bloodied blades were retracted from the bodies of their friends. The weapons almost seemed to dance in the air for a moment. And then they noticed it. A creature like no other.
It had the body of a simple treasure chest. Its lid had been opened to reveal numerous dagger-like teeth. If it was just this, they might assume it was a Mimic. But this was nothing like the monster Roger had slain a minute ago.
The wood-like surface was tattered, cracked and splintered all over. It looked like someone had kicked this particular box down a very long flight of stairs. The various gaps and holes in it revealed a brown mass of slightly pulsating muscle underneath. Anyone who glanced at this appearance would immediately realize it was no simple chest. Well, it was still simple, but that’s beside the point.
Six long, slender legs jutted out from its undersides, completely mismatched with the main body. It was as if someone had glued a pig-sized spider’s legs onto the monster as a sort of prank. B
ut the way they made very slight, almost automatic adjustments to support its body were natural enough to make one think this monster was born with them.
And worst of all, growing out of that tooth-filled abyss that passed for its maw, were three meter-long tentacles. The bright red flesh undulated in a disgusting manner, the tips of each horrific limb gripping tightly onto the handle of a sword. The same weapons that had just robbed two men of their lives before they could even ask for help. They were attacked with no warning and for little reason. Only a monster could be this cruel.
“KEHAAAAAAAAHH!” it yelled. Its putrid breath washed over the stunned humans, enhancing the surreal sight before them. The nightmarish creature began bearing down onto the closest guardsman while brandishing its trio of swords. The simple man who was used to scolding troublemaking kids or chasing pickpockets was frozen in terror. The worst thing he’d ever faced was a duo of armed bandits, but at least those were human. That situation was something he had trained and prepared for. The veritable storm of steel and teeth that was hurtling towards him was so bizarre that he doubted anyone could be prepared for something so absurd. He made a panicked attempt to ready his spear and ward off the assault, but the Mimic was already upon him. The three blades made sharp sounds as they drew wide arcs in the air.
Having to split the muscles of its tongue in three made each of the Mimic’s blows significantly weaker than they would be otherwise. The fact that it was slashing rather than stabbing meant that its DEX attribute was not helping right now, either. However, it was using three weapons instead of one. The sheer number of blows it could make meant it could deal out a steady stream of punishment that whittled down and exhausted its prey without giving it any room to breathe.
