by Iliev, Neven
This clearly did not pan out as she had hoped, for the regent did not down in history as ‘Queen Vasya the Last’ without reason. Unbeknownst to her, Tol-Saroth had worked within the confines of his geas to sabotage the power-mad tyrant, much like a resentful familiar that had an easily-misinterpreted order. In her arrogance, Queen Vasya had used the Authority of the Crown to command Tol-Saroth to ‘assist her in wiping out the enemies of the elven people.’ The ruler had failed to consider that the great sage wholeheartedly believed the biggest threat to his people’s wellbeing had been the Dominion itself.
This had allowed him to work behind the scenes to quietly replace the vast majority of the royal palace’s furniture with camouflaged war mimics. Hundreds of these creatures had woken up almost simultaneously one evening, resulting in the total annihilation of the royal bloodline, along with their advisors, retainers, concubines, and elite guard. It was not known what had become of the Authority of the Crown, as the Phantasmal relic had disappeared seemingly without a trace during the fall of the palace.
The power vacuum left in the wake of Tol-Saroth’s vengeance eventually lead to the authoritarian monarchy’s total collapse. The once-great sage had, for better or for worse, not survived to see this happen. Numerous historical accounts state that, on the eve of the mimic-assisted coup, he had caused a devastating explosion that had gone down in history as ‘The Calamity of Tol-Saroth.’ The blast had scarred the land and poisoned the air in a manner eerily similar to what Boxxy had done at Monotal, though on a smaller scale. The original Calamity had resulted in the total obliteration of Tol-Saroth’s war mimic breeding facility, his research on the subject, and, depressingly enough, the great sage himself.
As for the war mimics left in his wake, they had continued to terrorize the countryside of both the Empire and the crumbling Dominion, though this hadn’t lasted long. While superbly durable and deadly, war mimics had shockingly low lifespans. This, combined with their inability to reproduce, led to the species going completely extinct within a few years.
It was a widely held belief by the modern academic community that these flaws were intentional rather than accidental. Tol-Saroth had gone down in history as a man possessing both a brilliant mind and inscrutable morals. A person whose life’s work had been focused on the betterment of society as a whole, never at the expense of an individual’s life or personal freedom. It was not a tremendous leap of logic to assume that such a person had added planned obsolescence to the living weapons he had been forced to create. It certainly hadn’t been accidental, as many of his original mimics were still alive to this day, over four centuries later.
Yet despite Tol-Saroth’s measures and precautions, dungeon-born mimics like Boxxy still existed. Its particular subspecies began to appear in the decades following the sage’s death. Officially known as ‘Lesser’ and ‘Greater’ Mimics, their kind seemed to be a halfway point between the docile house mimics and the relentlessly savage war mimics. Though the exact reasons behind this turn of events remained a mystery to this day, none could argue that the world would be a better place without this lasting mockery of a great man’s legacy.
Lia closed the book in front of her with a glum expression, while Keira and Rowana looked on in disbelief. This simple, curious inquiry into Minic’s origins had brought to light a somewhat obscure but nevertheless tragic piece of history. One could argue they could’ve quit while they were ahead, but a certain shapeshifter’s insistence had them see this inquiry to its bitter end. Admittedly the story was full of holes, speculation, and assumptions, but it also was a miracle that even this much had survived those turbulent times.
“Our ancestors did some terrible things,” the elf Ranger sighed.
“This is… unbelievable. Are we sure these books are accurate?” Rowana asked with desperate hope that this had all been a big lie.
“Please don’t even suggest that. This library is normally exclusive to members of the Consortium,” Lia frowned. “Adventurers live and die based on the accuracy of information they receive, so I have no doubt these materials are genuine. There’s even some books here that are not publicly available and require special authorization to access, likely due to the sensitive information they hold.”
“The humans are not entirely blameless, either,” Keira interjected. “If not for their warlike attitude, none of that would’ve happened.”
Those were just empty words to move the conversation along. As the one who was the most concerned with these revelations, Boxxy didn’t know what to think. Learning about its origins was harder to stomach than it had expected. It suddenly made sense why it craved human flesh. Granted, it would not turn down the odd elf or dwarf, but humanity was the ultimate delicacy, the race it wanted to devour the most. This was also probably the reason Lia smelled tastier than other elves, as she had stated that her mother was born of a human father and an elf mother. Although the resulting children of such couplings were always the same race as the mother, they still carried some of the father's genes and traits. Boxxy’s preferences were so pronounced that it could quite literally smell the traces of humanity that were passed down to Lia from her grandfather.
Honestly, the idea that some ancient elf was the source of its instincts was more than a little infuriating. Having grown up in a dungeon, the then-mimic had sworn to itself that it would not let anything or anyone control it like that ever again. As it turned out, it had been influenced by some long-dead, pointy-eared asshole from hundreds of years ago this whole time.
“Yip?”
Minic, who sat idly on the table the entire time, was apparently a remnant of Tol-Saroth’s original legacy. Boxxy had the sudden urge to crush this creature there and then, but that whim subsided almost as quickly as it came. This creature wasn’t to blame. If anything, it was a victim. The wannabe-catgirl stretched its hands out and hugged the small creature. Not to restrain it, as it had done initially, but as it out of some bizarre feeling bordering empathy. Rowana embraced her solemn-looking girlfriend from the side in an effort to comfort her. Lia had the same intention, though she felt awkward about touching the couple and instead stroked Minic’s lid.
“Those poor creatures,” Rowana mumbled. “Mimics, I mean. Bred to know nothing but violence and made to kill others until they expire. I can’t even imagine what horrible fate had-”
“Rowana, don’t get the wrong idea,” Lia interrupted her. “Mimics are monsters. Regardless of their origins, they are vile, vicious, and delight in the suffering of elves and humans alike. They have no loyalty, no compassion and would not hesitate to eat you on sight without a single shred of remorse. Do not spare them any pity, they’re not worth it.”
“I see… yes, you’re right.”
“If you’re still going to feel bad about any of them, then be sure to make yourself feel better by spoiling this little guy rotten.”
“Yeah!”
“Thanks, Lia,” Keira said in a low voice. “I really needed to hear that.”
These were Boxxy’s honest feelings. Although her words were meant to be a cautionary speech for Rowana not to ever feel sympathy for a monster, they also became a surprisingly effective pep-talk for the doppelganger. Boxxy realized that it didn’t need to doubt itself or try to change its homicidal ways. It knew who and what it was, and it wasn’t going to let some centuries-old story change that. Besides, it was now intelligent enough to suppress any and all instincts that Tol-Saroth fellow had given it and its predecessors. Therefore, rather than feel conflicted about its past, it chose to focus on its future and redouble its efforts in the acquisition of both tasty and shiny things.
“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” it offered, and the other two agreed. The three of them returned all the books they had borrowed to their shelves and went their separate ways. The couple’s day out on the town had taken an unexpected turn, but it was hardly the waste of time Boxxy had expected it to be.
There had been one more point of interest in Tol-Saroth’s story. I
t was a piece of trivia the shapeshifter was quite surprised to learn, but one that made sense in retrospect. That elf had had many Jobs, but the main one had been that of a Warlock. Although his exact Levels had been lost to history, his biography stated that he was known for having three different familiars under his command, a clear sign of a nearly maxed-out Demonology Skill. This meant the ‘Warlock magic’ stated in the history books likely referred to the reality-warping energies of the Beyond. In other words, all mimics, Boxxy included, likely had a quasi-demonic origin. Perhaps that had been why it got along with its contracted familiars so well, and also why the Goddess of Impossibilities had such an interest in the creature.
That hadn’t been the surprising thing, though. The tidbit that piqued Boxxy’s interest had been the recorded descriptions of the ancient elf’s demonic familiars. Although their names weren’t known, their appearances and actions were. The first two had been a beholder and a fiend, which he had used as a research assistant and bodyguard, respectively. They were ultimately unimportant, as it was the third and final one that caught Boxxy’s attention. She was described as a succubus with the expected nubile proportions. One that had light-blue skin, glowing pink eyes, waist-long hair the color of the night sky, two golden curved horns on either side of her head, and a pair of large red bat-like wings sprouting from her back. These traits were typical for thousands of cerulean succubi, and if it was just for these, Boxxy would not have given this matter a second thought.
However, it couldn’t help but notice the accounts of this particular demon’s exploits suggested she had a manic tendency for burning things to the ground whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Part Three
“Oh, yeah! There was a guy who had furniture like that!” exclaimed Xera.
“Really? That’s all you can say about him?” asked Boxxy.
“Forgive me, Master. It’s just that I really did not care about my masters before I met you, so they all sort of blur together.”
The succubus had a point. Typically speaking, demons didn’t exactly hold mortals in high regard. Even if she was contracted to Tol-Saroth, it didn’t mean she paid much attention to the man.
“Can you at least tell me what he was like?”
“Let’s see… He was insane, the boring kind. He would obsess over one project or another and lock himself in his workshop. He’d usually leave us familiars in the Beyond and only call us out to guard the house and look after his pets. He was also super gay. Never got so much as a semi no matter how many times I thrust my breasts in his face or sensually caressed his back.”
“What about after the Dominion got in his head and forced him to breed living weapons?”
“Did that happen?”
“You tell me.”
“Hmm, he did move to some gloomy mega-tower or something with a whole bunch of other old, boring, scholarly types. I really didn’t pay much attention, but it was fun to see him rip his hair out from all the stress and frustration. It was fun up until he detonated that dungeon core he was experimenting on.”
So it would seem this was what Snack had alluded to when she said she knew what a ‘catastrophic meltdown’ was all those months ago.
“What about the creation of mimics?”
“No idea, Master. Like I said, he did all his research and experiments cooped up in his lab. All I know is his furniture suddenly started moving around and trying to bite me at some point.”
“And your personal opinion on him?”
“Well, I suppose he knew how to ruin someone’s day with Ruin magic. That was fun to watch. I think he’s also where I picked up my staff-twirling habits from, actually. They don’t really do anything, but they’re kinda fun. Huh, I guess he wasn’t too bad a master, all things considered. Not nearly as great as you, though.”
“I see.”
Her words weren’t particularly helpful or insightful, but they were somewhat informative. The only reason the doppelganger questioned her about its ancestors’ creator was out of curiosity rather than necessity, so this much was enough.
“I’ll be coming by the dungeon later. Stand by the core until then.”
“Understood, Master.”
Boxxy cut off the telepathic communication and walked out of the restroom.
“All done, Keira?” asked Rowana with an idle smile.
“Yup!”
The shapeshifter had found out the hard way just how difficult it was to maintain its cover while talking to its minions, Ambrosia included. Splitting its attention between physical and mental conversations was difficult, so it decided it was better to excuse itself for a while rather than space out in the middle of a conversation.
“Where’s Lia?” it asked while looking around.
“Ah, she said she had to run, something about helping her father in the inn.”
“Oh, right. She did say she wasn’t going to stick around long. How’s Minic?”
“Mmm, hugging it like this is a bit uncomfortable, but the little guy seems happy enough so I don’t mind.”
“Yip!”
The mini-mimic gave a small happy-sounding yelp from in between the elf’s arms. She held it against her well-shaped breasts as if it were a precious book, and the tiny creature seemed to thoroughly enjoy the soft sensation pressing against its underside. Boxxy’s own undercarriage had been relatively sensitive during its mimic days, so it understood where Minic was coming from. It also made a mental note to get the little guy a soft pillow to sit on in the future. A cheap one.
“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Shall we get home, sweetie?” offered Rowana.
“Sure,” Keira agreed.
The two of them proceeded to walk down the road while chatting away happily about inconsequential stuff. Boxxy just smiled and nodded for the most part. It realized that Keira really did not have any hobbies beyond being a Ranger, which was perhaps a flaw in her character. It was common for adventurers to pick up a secondary Job, typically a craft-focused one that synergized with their combat-oriented profession. Perhaps this was a good opportunity to make Keira’s Artificer Job public.
Actually no, it was still too early for that. Faehorn told all his students to put off on acquiring a second Job until they surpassed Level 25 of their Ranger Job. After that, he recommended they look into Alchemist, Rogue, or Monster Tamer, as those had high compatibility with the bow-wielding Ranger. It made Boxxy giggle a bit on the inside. A monster with the Monster Tamer Job sounded so ironic that it almost wanted to give that a try for the fun of it. That would be a waste of time though, as the former mimic’s ability and willingness to look after living creatures was quite non-existent.
Besides, Keira would definitely go after the Artificer Job when the time came, and would be aided by a very capable teacher she happened to meet and become friends with after a certain joint training lesson. Speaking of which, Boxxy considered it had to be very careful in regards to what Jobs it got in the future. This wariness stemmed from something it learned quite recently as part of its adventuring studies. Namely, the unwritten rule that an individual could only hold a limited number of Jobs at any time.
This number seemed to vary between various races. Elves, for example, could have as many as eight, while dwarves and gnomes were a bit lower at seven. Humans, on the other hand, could get all the way up to ten and beastkin were limited to six. It was normally hard to find a person who held more than four or five different jobs, so it wasn’t much of an issue for most people. It was, however, an issue for Boxxy. The Consortium’s library had no information regarding the maximum number of Jobs a monster could possess, but records showed Appraisals of creatures that had at least as many as humans. After all, a monster could Rank Up many times during its lifespan, and every new Rank Up could come with a new Job. It seemed logical that they would have more Job slots available every time they evolved into a different species.
The take-away from that was that each creature had a hard Job limit. Even if Boxx
y didn’t presently know its own cap, that still meant the garbage-tier Cat Job was taking up a valuable slot. Both the Attribute bonuses this Job and the effects of its single Skill, Feline Agility, were extremely lackluster. It was also impossible to advance beyond Level 5, likely because Boxxy was not of a feline species.
Boxxy had already looked into whether a Scribe could clean up its Status, but that seemed impossible. The monster would need to find someone who was both capable of Appraising Cat Job and wouldn’t ask questions about how an adventurer would have such a thing. It was also out of the question to try and learn the Scribe Job for itself because doing so involved subjecting itself to regular an anti-shapeshifter shock test as a precaution against doppelgangers. Additionally, judging from what it had heard about it, trying to Level Up the Scribe Job was a maddeningly slow and boring process.
Therefore, Boxxy was stuck with being part cat, at least for the time being. It would need to be very careful regarding Job acquisition in the future, lest it accidentally ruin its chances at Ranking Up into an even more powerful species. The shapeshifter had also been more selective with its Cadaver Absorption targets, as it was wary of being stranded with another subpar Job.
“Keira? You’re spacing out again.”
“Oh, sorry Rowie. I was just thinking about the future,” the redhead replied. “Our future.”
“Oh! Oh my! I-I-I’m flattered, but I- Uhm, I mean… I think it’s a bit too early to be thinking about m-m-marr- Oof!”
Just then, someone bumped into Rowana with a lot of force in a move that Boxxy realized was clearly on purpose. It deftly moved as Keira to catch the platinum-blonde elf before she hit the ground. The man that knocked her over just kept running away at a dead sprint.
“Hey, watch it, pal!” Keira yelled after him, before turning her attention back to Rowana. “Huh? Wait, where’s Minic?”
