Morningwood: Everybody Loves Large Chests (Vol.1)

by Neven Iliev

  The Cryomancer, on the other hand, valued precision. Her main method of attack was launching shards of conjured ice at her opponents. She could also fire an icy beam that froze everything it touched or summon a localized blizzard to blind and confuse her enemy. All of those Spells required a high degree of accuracy to demonstrate their full effect. After all, if a Cryomancer’s enchanted ice pierced a flesh and blood body, it would almost always explode into shards. The unfortunate victim’s insides would be shredded by that frozen shrapnel, causing massive damage. A truly gruesome and ruthless method of attack and one Hargan hoped would be able to subdue this Sweeper.

  A thought he would likely be able to confirm sooner rather than later.

  Another team had sent a flare, signaling they had confirmed its location. That was fifteen minutes ago. Judging from how everyone was told to spread out, Hargan’s team would be the closest one to the distress signal. Thankfully, there was a tall pillar of smoke that rose up from the same direction, so they could easily find their bearings. And half a minute later, they would be at the scene.

  The six of them burst out of the treeline into an unnatural clearing. Nearby was a small village - probably goblin in nature - that was set ablaze. The scenery between Hargan and that rampaging fire bore the scars of a fierce battle that was already over.

  He immediately recognized two of his guardsmen. Mark and Harold were both slain, covered head to toe in wounds and lying in a puddle of their combined blood. It looked like the finishing blows were a sword through the throat for Mark and a small knife in the eye for Harold. The sergeant cursed under his breath. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about those opportunistic adventurers, but losing his men was another story.

  A few meters away from those two was the body of a dwarven priest, his white robes dyed a crimson red. The left part of his head had been blown clean off, most likely by magic. Much like how that elven survivor had described it, the Sweeper had probably taken out the healer first.

  About a dozen meters further away lay the corpse of that Rogue from The Dark Hand guild. Most of his right arm and left leg were gone, probably bitten off in the struggle. He had a small knife sticking out from his left shoulder, identical to the one lodged in Harold’s skull.

  And sitting in front of the blazing inferno, hugging her knees and gently rocking herself back and forth, was the Witch, Xera. The sole survivor was making eerie sounds as she stared at the flames. It sounded like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to giggle or weep. Hargan, as the leader of his squad, signaled the others to move forward. They walked carefully towards her, keeping an eye on their surroundings. There was quite a lot of debris strewn around the place, so there was no telling where the Sweeper might pop out from.

  Xera froze and went quiet when she heard them approach from behind her. After a few seconds she looked over her shoulder at them. After confirming their presence she returned her gaze to the dancing flames. The Witch then held out her right arm and pointed to the side with a slender finger, right at the smoldering lump of something some fifteen meters away from her.

  “It’s dead,” she muttered in a shaky voice. “It was heavily wounded after… killing the others. It tried to run, but I finished it off.” Having finished her bare-bones explanation, the poor woman withdrew her hand and resumed her earlier behavior.

  The six who had just arrived at the grizzly scene shared a few difficult looks. They approached the supposed dead Sweeper. Once they got closer, they were able to confirm it. It was an organic chest with teeth. About two thirds of it was burned to a crisp, letting off a repugnant smell. There were three plain-looking and well-used swords on the ground around it. It sat there perfectly still, not showing a single sign of life.

  Hargan stabbed it with his spear just in case. It penetrated deep into the corpse, causing a small trickle of yellow blood to leak out of the wound. Since he saw no notification that he had dealt a blow, it was certain the thing in front of him was actually dead.

  “Stand down,” he ordered while relief washed over him. The thing that had murdered so many of his men was no more. He turned his attention back to the two dead soldiers. They volunteered for this, just like the others. Mark’s brother had been part of the patrol that disappeared in the cave, so to him this was more personal than to anyone else. Harold acted like he was only in it for the money, but the sergeant knew that man always stood by his friends. So even if these two had to pay with their lives, he hoped they at least passed on with the knowledge they helped bring that monster to justice.

  About ten minutes later, the rest of the punitive force arrived on the scene. Hargan brought them up to speed and informed them of the Quest’s success and the terrible price it took on their side. He directed the rest of his men to throw together some stretchers so they could bring the bodies back to the city for burial. At least they had something to bury this time. The adventurers gave their condolences and lent a hand with the grim task.

  Hargan walked up to Xera who was still on the ground, hugging her knees. The fire had long ago been put out by the Cryomancer to prevent it from spreading to the rest of the forest, but the Witch still stared off into the distance beyond it.

  “Are you alright?” he asked out of genuine concern.

  “I’ll be fine,” came the immediate reply. “Please leave me here. I just… need to be alone right now.”

  The sergeant sighed. Even if this adventurer was a high Level for this neck of the woods, it still didn’t feel right leaving a distraught girl alone in the forest like this. Still, with the Sweeper gone, he doubted anything in here could lay a hand on her. Her voice also seemed to have regained a bit of vigor, so he decided it wasn’t his place to interrupt her mourning.

  “Understood. Please take care. Drop by the barracks later to receive your reward.”

  The beauty looked up at him with a weak smile. She gave him a quiet “Thank you,” then turned her attention back to the frozen ashes in front of her. Hargan nodded and proceeded to lead the rest of the adventurers and guards back to civilization. They moved out while carrying the four mangled bodies on stretchers that were hoisted up on their shoulders. The whole thing could only be described as a funeral procession. Which was, more or less, the case.

  Some half an hour later, the girl stood up. She walked over to a white rock poking out of the dirt and knelt before it.

  The rock sprouted a yellow cat-like eye. The oddly rectangular stone wiggled itself free from the ground and stood up on six black spider-like legs. The coarse white surface melted into itself and transformed into a series of light oak planks bound by fake steel. The Mimic opened its mouth and a long, red tongue wrapped around Xera. Rather than fight or struggle, she just sort of let it happen.

  It lifted her up, then slammed her head first into the ground. She let out a scream of pain while her face was dragged through the coarse dirt, disfiguring it horribly. This was her punishment for nearly messing things up. And, even though she wouldn’t admit it directly, deep down she really enjoyed the rough treatment.

  In truth, Xera the Witch was not a real person. This being currently having her face dragged along the dirt was not even human. Her actual name was Xerababadubuth L’okrelaila, a Cerulean Succubus who served as the Mimic’s familiar.

  When a Warlock or Witch performed Summon Familiar for the first time, they were given a choice. They had to pick which species of demon would best fit their needs. Four of their five options were the naturally large and tough fiends, the many-eyed floating heads called beholders, the vicious canine hunters known as hellhounds and the mana-devouring spider-like stalkers. The one this particular Warlock chose was the final one - the conniving and treacherous succubi.

  Succubi were demons that could alter their appearance through the Shapeshift Skill. They were well suited to infiltration, deception and taking advantage of the desires of others. It was a type of demon that was very close in its hunting habits to mimics. One could say that the only real difference was the type of chest tha
t was used as bait. In short, the succubus seemed like the perfect partner-in-crime to this enterprising spider-chest. And the one it was bonded to was Xerababadubuth L’okrelaila, or Xera for short. She was a Cerulean Succubus, which was a sub-species that relied on magic in combat and was capable of manipulating the minds of mortals by tampering with their dreams.

  The bonding of a demon to a Warlock was, in essence, a magical contract with iron-clad fine print. The Warlock wanted to use the demon’s power, and the demon wanted to play around in the physical realm. It was a compromise both sides would need to accept. Except that demons were by nature devious, prideful and greedy. They hoped to exploit the loophole whereby if their master or mistress had died while they were summoned, then they would be free to do as they pleased for as long as their physical bodies held out.

  Objectively speaking though, the demons saw the whole bonding thing as little more than a way to stave off their boredom. Xera was no different, which was why she eagerly accepted the contract when the chance presented itself. She had dreams of killing off her master, who she imagined to be some snot nosed ugly virgin who didn’t know any better, and setting herself free. Even if she was unable to attack her master directly, she could still seduce or entice him with her wiles. With his judgement clouded and his reason stripped, it would be a simple task to have him meet with an ‘accident.’ She had already done so several times in the past, so she was confident it would work this time as well.

  However, such thoughts came to a grinding halt when she was materialized in a forest next to a couple of dead bodies. She stared blankly at the being that had summoned her, silently cursing her rotten luck. Her master was a Mimic, a barely sentient box that had absolutely no sex drive or reproductive organs to speak of. How the hell was she supposed to seduce something like that? How did this thing even manage to summon her in the first place? And while she was quietly lamenting the bad situation she had gotten herself into, it abruptly got worse.

  The Mimic bit off both her legs, crippling her before she could even speak to her new master. This attack came without warning and for a completely idiotic reason. Her master was simply curious if demons were tasty. And, much to Xera’s horror, it found her legs to be to its liking. It gobbled up the rest of her in three big bites.

  When a demon’s physical body was destroyed, its spirit would be sent to the Beyond - a realm of thoughts and dreams that was halfway between real and imaginary. Demons were immortal beings to begin with, so defeating them in the real world simply sent them back home. One had to try really, really hard to permanently destroy a demon, so what had just happened to Xera was not actually as fatal as it may appear.

  If she had a jaw in this realm, it would undoubtedly be hanging open. She simply could not believe what had just happened. She was dragged into a completely different reality just so she could be pointlessly devoured. Was her new master really that big of a moron? Or was it simply that cruel?

  Unfortunately for her, the answers to those questions were ‘yes,’ and ‘yes.’

  Once the Mimic’s MP had recovered, it summoned her again, only to instantly eat her up. This happened over and over. No matter how much she protested or struggled, she was powerless to stop it. The creature simply wanted to enjoy the taste of her conjured body, as it was incredibly sweet and pleasingly chewy. It had a lot of fun while eating her, but it was still flesh born of mana. No matter how many times it ate her, Xera’s body parts would dissolve into nothing within a minute. It couldn’t sate its hunger or even use Cadaver Absorption under these circumstances. It was something the Mimic realized by the third time it summoned her. Still, it didn’t see that as a reason to stop. If anything, it seemed like a reason to take things slower and savor the taste more.

  The proud demoness was reduced to little more than a monster’s plaything. Here she was, an immortal demon capable of reaping the souls of mortal men, and what was she being used for? Junk food. Her uncaring master gave no fucks about her suffering and tortured her for its own pleasure.

  Xera was mortified at this realization. Her pride and willpower helped her withstand the humiliation and abuse, but that was only at first. Even if the body was fake, the sensations she felt were very much real. The pain of having her flesh stripped away and the agony of her bones shattering time and time again chipped away at her psyche. The overwhelming horror of being eaten alive every time she ‘woke up’ etched itself into her very soul.

  Under such extreme treatment, she began to change. The fifth time she was summoned, she completely gave up on turning the tables on that heartless monster of a master. Her pride and willpower were long gone before the painful summonings even reached two digits. About the thirteenth time she was being devoured, she felt herself getting aroused. On the sixteenth devouring, her lower lips were absolutely drenched from start to finish. And then, on her twenty-third time being summoned, she actually had an orgasm while the Mimic was ripping off her breasts. From that point on she came at least once every time the Mimic sank its teeth into her soft flesh and ripped apart her sensitive skin.

  The boundary between extreme pain and extreme pleasure was paper thin, and Xera could no longer tell the difference between the two. The systemic abuse had already broken her, perhaps forever. Rather than suffer through the pain, her tortured mind embraced the pleasure with open arms. Under the Mimic’s unceasing assaults, she transformed into a hardcore masochist who longed to be hurt and abused by others. Truly befitting of a demon that fed off men’s perversions.

  And so, on the thirty-fifth summon, it finally stopped eating her. But the damage was done. The haughty demoness that looked down on others was nowhere to be found. Instead what stood in her place was a panting pervert with a glazed look. And the reason the Mimic finally stopped munching on its new, favorite snack was because it actually had a use for her now.

  The monster didn’t just sit idle while it was waiting for its MP to recover. It had followed after that elf who escaped its murderous rampage from earlier. It couldn’t quite track him, but it could still walk in the same general direction. Eventually, it found the nearby city of Monotal. However, it dared not go near it. After all, those armed guards at the gates looked exactly like the five men it killed on its way out of the dungeon. It wanted information, but was too conspicuous to pass through that checkpoint. It didn’t have to though - that sort of thing was why it bonded with a familiar in the first place. A succubus was pretty much perfect for this sort of infiltration. And so, it summoned Xera and used the telepathic link between them to give her its orders. She was to disguise herself as a human, enter the city and feed it information.

  The succubus, despite her newfound eccentricities, was still very good at doing her job. She assumed the guise of a wandering adventurer and entered the city without much incident. The Sweeper subjugation Quest was big news, so she found out about it immediately. This information was relayed to her master through their mind-link. The Mimic then quickly realized it was in deep trouble. It was sure those people would not rest until they hunted it down, and judging from Xera’s reports there were going to be a lot of very dangerous people coming after it.

  In truth, it had overestimated their conviction. If it had just escaped far away, then there was no way they would have been able to track it down. It had convinced itself a confrontation was inevitable, so it started preparing. The Mimic ordered its familiar to keep gathering information while it hunted in the forest to raise its Levels and Skills.

  The Mimic may have been a natural genius when it came to ambushes and exploiting weakness in combat, but succubi were just as devious when it came to deception and conspiracies. The succubus inadvertently gave her master a suggestion. She would infiltrate the punitive force in order to help the Mimic fake its death. If things went well, she might even bring it some powerful adventurers on a silver platter. That way it could get more powerful, lose the heat and get paid all in one go. It questioned the importance of money at first, but that quickly changed once Xer
a explained money could be exchanged for delicious things.

  And so, with her master’s approval, the succubus got busy. The first obstacle was the mandatory Appraisal check. Adventurers had to go through it to prove they met the Level 20 minimum requirements of the Sweeper subjugation Quest, but doing so was bound to reveal Xera’s true nature to these mortals. However, Cerulean Succubi were very good at controlling the hearts of men. The middle-aged official who was doing the examination was no match for the demoness, who made lewd promises in exchange for forging her paperwork. The pent up government worker had taken those sweet words hook, line and sinker.

  After getting what she wanted, Xera put him to sleep with magic and activated her Dreamweaver Skill. She then wiped the memory of their encounter from his feeble mind before walking out of his office as if nothing had happened. It was her way of erasing the witness without leaving behind a dead body. It was a good thing the one doing the test was a weakling with pitiful or non-existent Mental Fortitude and Wisdom, otherwise the succubus would not be able to manipulate him as easily as she did.

  From then on it was a simple matter of blending in with one of the parties and feeding her master information about it through the mind-link. When the time came, the Mimic invited them to a suitable kill zone. Xera then made a distraction with the Inferno Spell, allowing her master a free shot at the party’s healer. That’s when that troublesome Rogue interfered and ruined the ambush by saving the troublesome Priest’s life.

  It didn’t matter though. Since all the humans were focused on the Mimic, Xera was able to hit Koross with a point blank Fireball to the head. The Spell exploded, enveloping the dwarf’s head in flames and ruining his focus. He didn’t die on the first hit, but then came a second and a third before his head finally burst open. Much like the scene with the janther, the front line noticed too late that their healer had died. Betrayed, demoralized and without magical support, the other three had no chance of victory.